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Further along the wall hang more pictures of him as an adult in his uniform with the same guy and an older man who looks like the guy. There are a lot of the three of them together.
Then it switches to Malik with a man who has to be his father because they look so similar, and another man, I guess is a relative. Maybe an uncle because he looks roughly the same age as his father—if I’m right that other man is his father.
I tear my gaze away from the pictures and scan the room for a door.
That’s what I need to look for.
There’s a little curve to the wall, so I follow it and stop in my tracks when I see a blue knight's tunic hanging on a clothes rail. It looks like something straight out of the Crusades or…
Something snaps in my mind as I remember where else I might have seen such a costume. Like movies. This looks like something the Templar Knights would wear, but it doesn’t have a cross on the front. It has a black raven.
My scalp tingles with fear that ripples down my spine in icy tendrils, but I still move forward to get closer.
Closer and closer until I find myself reaching out to touch the soft material.
“This is no costume,” I say to myself.
“No, it’s not,” answers that deep rusty voice.Hisvoice.
I turn with my heart in my throat and find Malik standing by the doorway, watching me.
ChapterFifteen
Gwen
Idon’t know how long Malik has been standing there watching me.
Although it couldn’t have been too long because I haven’t been in here for more than ten minutes, the thought of him watching me without my knowledge is jarring. Especially when I’m clearly somewhere I’m not supposed to be.
This room… it doesn’t have a good vibe to it. It’s too personal, too private, too secret. Like him.
The air is thick with grief and something sinister.
Even though I don’t know the story behind the things he’s keeping in here, in some ways, the room feels like a shrine.
My eyes are glued to the devil’s like the deer caught in the headlights, freezing up at that moment, not knowing what to do.
When a shit-eating grin slides across his handsome face, I don’t know what that means for me, and that fear I experienced earlier amplifies a million times over.
“Looking for something?” Malik keeps his gaze fixed on me the way a hunter would when it’s tracking its prey.
“I…” Any explanation my brain would have conjured dies because it’s obvious that, as a captive, I could only be in here if I was looking for a way out.
He walks in, the sounds of his footsteps rising like a tidal wave the closer he gets. My heartbeat becomes a staccato of terror with each beat out of cadence, and my legs tremble under the weight of his intensive stare.
By the time he reaches me, I don’t know how I’m still standing, or how my lungs haven’t exploded from holding my breath for so long.
It’s only when his gaze switches from me to the tunic that I look away from those dark eyes and realize I’m still touching the fabric. Actually, it’s more like I’m gripping it as if it can save me.
I release it quickly and take a measured breath in an attempt to soothe my burning lungs. It doesn’t work. The potent silence between us is stifling, as is the suspense of wondering what he’s going to do to me.
What if he’s going to kill me now that I’ve come in here and seen that he’s part of what looks like some secret organization?
Those eyes drift back to mine again, and there’s a spark of something I can’t quite figure out, but I know it’s not good.
“Go ahead. Ask me.” His voice is challenging. “I can see all those questions bouncing around in that pretty little head of yours.”
At first, I think of keeping my silence, but since I need answers, I decide to speak and play his game.
