Page 6 of Us Defiant Few

Brock and Adan had the lucky job of dragging Takeshi’s six-foot-five frame up the stone steps. Adan cursed at the effort and mumbled, “What the heck does he eat?”

When they reached the cobwebbed entrance, Jack knocked on the wooden door with a series of intricate beats.

A small look-through panel slid open.

She couldn’t tell who stood behind it, but she felt someone’s stern gaze scanning her all over.

Immediately, the door swung open.

A broad-shouldered man cloaked in black stood in the doorway. He had a coppery beard that reached his chest. Khalani swallowed at the nasty gash that trailed from his right eye down to his cheek.

“Get in. Hurry,” the man said in a deep, rasping voice.

“Thanks, Jericho.” Jack nodded, hastily ushering them inside. Jericho took one final peek at the quiet street, eyes darting left and right before he slammed the door shut behind them.

Khalani shivered as she stepped into the cool interior. Dark shadows bounced along the white stone walls, and an odd scent drifted to her nose. Like burning incense.

“This way.”

Jericho led them down a narrow hallway. Khalani’s shoulders were stiff, her pulse racing as they dragged Takeshi through the haunting building.

But when the hallway opened on their left, her feet shuddered to a halt.

“What is this place?” Serene whispered in awe.

Khalani’s lips parted. “It looks like a…church.”

Rows of empty pews lined the vast space. At the head stood an altar, with a tall wooden cross mounted above. Her gaze lifted higher to the beautiful stained-glass windows scattering a kaleidoscope of color across the white stone.

The space was devoid of people. It was peaceful and quiet in a way that was the antithesis of Hermes. A part of her ached to sit in a pew and appreciate the beauty around her, but peace was as absent as Takeshi’s memory.

His head hung low as Brock and Adan continued to carry his dead weight forward. Jericho led them down a long set of stairs that looped in a spiral. Nearly two stories beneath the church, they entered a communal space similar to the Black Heart.

Khalani coughed as the scent of mold hit her. A rickety chandelier dangled overhead. Long tables filled the room, with several men and women chatting.

“Jack!” someone yelled as their harrowed group descended the stairs.

All chatter dissipated.

The men and women stood so fast, their chairs crashed to the ground.

“What happened?” one man with white hair asked, his wide eyes taking in the injured Ryder.

“Dealers,” Jack said flatly, wiping sweat from his brow. “The Black Heart is compromised.”

Gasps rippled through the room.

“How?” Jericho hissed. “Who talked?”

Jack, Spade, and Raziel’s gazes slid to Takeshi, and everyone took in his helpless form.

Khalani’s stomach twisted, hating their distrustful eyes upon him.

A fierce, protective instinct drove her. She wanted to carry him into a room and barricade the door, but she wasn’t strong enough to lug him across the building.

“Bakarra.” Jack gestured to one of the women wearing a black pantsuit with pixie-length green hair and multiple piercings on her face. “Please show them to their rooms. Jericho,” he continued, and the burly man who led them in stepped forward. “Show them the holding cell.” Jack gestured to Brock and Adan. “When he wakes up, we’ll ask our questions.”

The last sentence was said with an odd inflection, and Jericho inclined his head. Without another word, he grumbled at Brock and Adan, prowling down the room.