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I looked up as I raced for the stairs. The front door was open, the boards torn free.
“VIVIENNE!” London roared. “STOP! IT’S DANGEROUS!”
I knew that.
The floors were rotted.
The rusted nails still sharp.
But I couldn’t think about any of that now. I pushed all thoughts of this place aside, grabbed what was left of the wooden door, and yanked, then slipped past the splintered wood and plunged inside.
Darkness, that’s all I saw. I prayed to God he was with me and stepped forward.
The pungent scent of dust and terror filled me. I swallowed the air as my eyes adjusted to the gloom. “Colt?” I whispered, taking a step of faith, then another.
Dark shadows yawned on the floor in front of me. I followed the lighter tone, stepped around the fallen away floor, and kept moving. My gaze went right as I pushed further into the house.
“Vivienne!” London snarled, pissed off behind me. “Come back!”
I couldn’t. I hoped one day he’d understand that.
I hoped one day he’d forgive me.
I lowered my hand, cupped my belly, and pushed deeper, turning my focus toward the rear of the house. I left that room with the scratches inside the door behind.
“Here!” Guild called.
A grunt followed the slap of something against a hand before a click sounded and the bright shine of a flashlight illuminated the all but destroyed floor. I glanced over my shoulder toward the three men waiting.
London took a step and listened to the beams creak underneath before he spat a stream of obscenities, then fixed those dark eyes filled with desperation on me.
“Stay on the beams, pet,” London cautioned, shining the light in front of me. “Follow the light.”
I used the bright glow to scan the house in front of me, taking step after step until the glow faded, and I stopped at a doorway that led to stairs above. My heart hammered as I looked back and found Carven’s gaze fixed on me. “I have to go up.”
“Here,” London murmured, turning the flashlight in his hand. “Take this.”
Then he cast it through the air toward me. My heart lunged as I lifted my hands and caught it.
“We’ll look for another way in,” London urged, standing in the dark. “Be careful, pet.”
His gaze lowered to my belly, looking like he wanted to say more. But he didn’t. Carven turned and left. I shone the light toward them, helping him navigate the ruined floor until he was gone.
“Find my son,” London whispered desperately. “Bring him back to us.”
I gave a slow nod, then turned to the stairs and aimed the light higher. Footprints were embedded in the thick layer of dust. They looked fresh…very fresh.
The light bounced, trembling in my hand as I took a step. I didn’t know what drew him back to this hell and not home. I wished to God I understood, but as I gripped the banister and climbed, I realized it didn’t matter.
None of it did.
Fresh blood shone on the banister in front of me. I jerked my gaze upwards. It was him…it had to be him. That thought made me surge upwards. The stairs creaked. One gave way, leaving me to cling on for dear life to the filthy banister.
Still, I climbed, stopping at the first floor and aiming the flashlight higher. The marks in the dust continued, so I resumed climbing. The further up I went, the colder it became. I glanced below, my stomach sinking, before I focused above me, until I passed the second floor, then the third.
Until there was nowhere to go.
I shone the light along the footprints, following them until they stopped at a set of stairs that led up into the attic. I froze, the light bouncing against the missing rungs on the ladder. There was no way I was going up there. No way I could even…
