Page 75 of The Shadow Sanctum

“I’ll see you soon,” she tells me with a brush of her hand along my shoulder.

She pushes past Thorne without a glance, but the hurt on his face could be felt throughout the building. He lingers in the doorway a moment longer, like he wants to say something. His jaw works, eyes flicking from me to the hall, but then he mutters something under his breath and follows after her.

Silence crashes down in their wake.

I stay perfectly still, listening. Their footsteps echo down the corridor, Luna’s sharp and fast, Thorne’s heavier, deliberate. Only once the sound fades do I swing my legs off the bed.

My hands drag down my face. The taste of bile lingers at the back of my throat, and the echo of Luna’s kiss is hot on my lips. If she knew that I’m the reason those kids are coughing themselves half-dead, she’d scrub herself raw.

I shove the thought down; force myself upright. One step at a time. Get control of the chaos before it spreads too far.

Step number one: find Angel. He’s the only one who can help me stop this before the whole compound turns into a pit of plague.

I dress fast—pants, shoes, hoodie—and rake my hair back with shaking fingers.

The hall outside feels colder than it should. Two Cultivators loiter at the far end, whispering low. Their eyes snap to me before they skitter away.

I don’t slow. My strides carry me straight to Angel’s quarters, and the unease in my stomach curdles tighter with every step.

The door stands slightly ajar. I press a palm to it, push inside.

Empty.

The bed is made, the desk cleared. No sign of him.

“Fuck.” I scan the room like a wishful idiot then slam the door closed.

I flag down the first body I see—a Seraph with her arms full of linens. “Have you seen Mr. Sanchez?”

She blinks at me, surprised for some reason. Then she shrugs and shifts the load in her arms. “I think he already left for the day.”

He left…

Where the fuck would he have gone?

I force a nod, my throat tight. She bustles on unconcerned.

Turning on my heel, I head for the exit.

Hoping he isn’t hard to find.

CHAPTER 22

LUNA

The deeper Thorne and I go into the mines, the worse it smells.

At first it’s just damp air—thick with stone and mildew. But soon the scent sharpens to a sour bite that curls at the back of my throat. Thorne keeps pace at my side. He’s a silent shadow with his torch lifted high, the golden glow catching on the damp walls and glistening rivulets that trickle down to the floor.

By the time we reach the cells, the stench is undeniable. Rot, vomit, sweat baked into the air so infectiously it feels alive. It clings to my lungs with every breath and coats my tongue until I have to fight a gag.

The coughing hits me next. A low chorus that echoes from the barred doors on either side. Wet, ragged, some punctuated with a choking rattle that makes the hairs on my arms stand straight.

I force myself to keep walking, even when the torchlight catches sight of one Dreg curled tight in his corner. His body shakes with every rasp, and his skin is sheened in sweat. Another lies still, head tilted at an unnatural angle, his lips cracked and blue.

“Lord have mercy.” Thorne’s voice is low, but it still echoes down the tunnel.

Ahead, two Keepers work in silence. They drag a limp body from one of the cells. The corpse's arms and legs flop bonelessly against the rock as it’s hauled into the corridor. No reverence. No hesitation. They add it to the small pile already forming near the wall—three bodies stacked like firewood, half-covered by soiled rags. The torchlight paints their skin gray and illuminates their mouths still open mid-gasp.