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His words are fierce, but they don’t comfort me; they’re a reminder of how little control I have. Of how much depends on the whims and decisions of others. I’m left to wrestle with my fears, doubts and memories of the murders that happened where we stand and wonder if the fortress I’m in is for my protection or my imprisonment.
Before I can form any more words, a crash echoes through the halls, a sound that feels like the start of an avalanche.
Alarms blare, a cacophony of warning that sends my heart racing. In an instant, the Cardinals are moving with a precision that’s terrifying.
“Stay here,” Alistair commands, his blue eyes hard as ice. “I fucking mean it, Ever.”
Charlie and Ben nod to me, their expressions grim, before they follow Alistair upstairs.
Damien lingers for a heartbeat longer, his gaze fixed on mine. But then he, too, is gone, leaving me alone with the screaming alarms and the thundering of my pulse.
They think the manor’s empty, that’s why they’re attacking now. They think we’re still at the Ball, not hovering in an underground chamber. Right? So maybe this isn’t as bad as it looks. Maybe it’s a theft, nothing to do with me. I mean, this place is full of priceless artefacts. Theft is definitely possible. My mind races, and I know the Cardinals are ready to fight, to defend this place, to defend me, but the thought does nothing to alleviate the terror that claws at my throat if I’m wrong.
The alarms cut off suddenly, and the silence is deafening.
I’m left in the echoing silence of the chamber. They’re up there, fighting because of me, and I’m down here, hiding and being generally useless.
“Damn it,” I curse under my breath, my hands balling into fists. This isn’t me, is it? In the face of danger, does Ever Knight cower? My ancestors would be rolling in their graves if they knew. I have to do something, anything. I will not wait in the shadows while others bleed for me or because of me or for any other reason while I sit here like a fucking idiot.
Knowing Alistair will be raging mad, I chew my lip as I stand still for a second, the chamber around me feeling like a tomb. Then I shake off the paralysis, my intent hardening. Striding over to the box of weapons laid out on the devirginizing altar, I glare inside. My breath catches as I reach for the largest knife,its handle cool and solid in my palm. It’s wicked, all curved blades and jagged edges. Hating that once again, I’m playing the victim, I test the weight of the knife. It’s heavier than it looks, but it balances perfectly, as if it’s made just for my hand. I shove back the fear that wants to choke me—fear of the weapon, fear of what’s happening above, fear of what I might have to do.
Glancing over to the spot where Damien made me kill Robbie, tears prick my eyes as his face haunts me. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep pushing the horror aside. It’s becoming exhausting even trying.
“Come on, Ever,” I mutter. “Not fucking now, you cow. Get it together. Break down on your own time.”
My pep talk does nothing to make me move. However, the sounds of chaos upstairs does. Whatever this is has moved into the entrance hall, very near the understairs cupboard, and it’s echoing down the tunnel.
“Fuck.”
My heart hammers against my ribs as I inch towards the tunnel, each step feeling like a lifetime. This isn’t some bad dream or a horror movie; this is real, and it’s happening right now.
“How did I get into this shitshow?” My muttering goes some way to calm me. Distracting me from whatever lies above me.
With each step up the cold stone tunnel, the sounds grow louder and more distinct. It’s a clash of violence.
Pushing open the hidden door, I emerge from the plunging darkness of the tunnel into the pitch-black cupboard, bumping into the chairs stacked up. I cringe as the noise is too loud, but not loud enough to cause a disturbance out in the entrance hall. Inhaling deeply, I hold my breath as I inch forward and push the understairs door open a crack. The sight that greets me steals my breath away.
Alistair moves like a force of nature, the ferocity in his eyes is wild as he wields a knife with deadly precision. A masked intruder lunges at him, only to be met with a swift, brutal strike that sends the attacker crumpling to the ground.
Across the room, Ben fights with the calm, terrifying efficiency of a seasoned warrior. His face is set in grim determination as the fight spills over into the living room.
I hear Charlie yell from upstairs, but I can’t see or hear Damien. Then again, I probably wouldn’t. He is like the ghost you don’t see coming until it’s right in your face.
“Fuck,” I finally breathe out, the scene before me enough to make anyone’s blood run cold, but there’s no time for shock or fear now. I grip the knife tighter, ready to fight alongside them, to protect this place, my home, our legacy. Bending down to slash the dress a bit higher with the knife so my legs don’t get tangled up, I gulp at the swiftness with which the blade cuts through the fabric. Then I kick off my shoes and push the door open wider, stepping into the grand entrance hall, the marble floor, cold on my bare feet.
Just as I take another step forward, intent on joining whatever the fuck this is, a cold, familiar voice slices through the chaos. “Not so fast, Ever.”
My blood chills as I whirl around and stare into the cupboard as the light flicks on, momentarily blinding me.
13
EVER
“Crystal? What are you doing here?”
Her eyes shine with malicious triumph, and if I thought she was here as my friend, I would be sorely mistaken.
“Surprised?” she taunts, exiting the cupboard quickly and circling me like a predator sizing up its prey. “You shouldn’t be. I’ve been in the shadows all along, waiting for the perfect moment to strike, and oh, look the perfect moment.” Her words are sharp, each one designed to cut deeper than any knife could.
