Ididn’t bolt out of the room straight away.
No, I took my time.
I changed into black sweats and a black shirt that would allow me to slink about in the shadows better, and I tucked the copy of the layout Amelia had printed for me into my pocket. While I wasn’t sure exactly what witchy measures Amelia had placed on me, I was certain they were only to keep me on the premises, not ward me out of the West Wing.
My heart thudded harder. Was I actually doing this? What if Cillian found out?
However, no one was here at the moment, so this was the one chance I’d get. Dad was trying to help me from the outside, in whatever way he could, and snooping around the West Wing might be the key to unlocking my escape.
If Dad had help, he probably planned on leaving the area as well. Because once I was gone, the deal would fall through and Cillian would come for him again.
Complacency had already started to seep through my veins after spending only a few months here, which now sent my alarm bells ringing. The sooner I started to sympathize with the people holding me captive, the more I’d give them allowances and the less I’d fight back and try to find a way out. And yes, I’d agreed to stay here in my father’s stead, but I didn’t care what debts he’d incurred at the Spires. Nothing justified sending him to the Pits.
I shut off the laptop and slipped my phone into my pocket. I had what money remained in my wallet, which wasn’t much, not for a grand relocation, but if the West Wing held the secret to my way out, I wouldn’t waste the chance.
I paused at the doorway and stared back into my room. The laptop was closed on the desk, and my bedsheets were rumpled from this morning. The latest mystery book lay on my nightstand, and the wardrobe full of clothes sat open. While this was where I’d been living for the past few months, none of it felt like mine. No mugs of coffee and tea were scattered throughout, no stacks of teetering books or heaps of papers I sorted through like at my old apartment.
Leaving all this behind would be like waking up from an odd dream, not like reality.
That wasifI ended up finding anything of use. This could be a big risk with no reward. But I’d never know if I didn’t try.
I stepped out of the room, my senses on high alert. Quiet echoed through the hallway, an odious and devouring thing, but today the emptiness was in my favor. Despite it being midday, a midnight quality existed in this section of the Spires, so different than the rest of the place, as if I were wading through an eternal night.
My footsteps were too loud for my liking, and I slowed my pace to a deliberate one, making sure each step grew softer and softer until they were unnoticeable. The dim lighting lured me downthe corridor, toward the shadows crawling at the end where it was intersected. The left would lead me past the normal areas I’d already explored before curving around to the area that had been marked as “do not enter” territory.
This could be a terrible idea. If Cillian discovered me here, guaranteed he’d send me to the Pits. The tentative freedoms I had would be stripped away to nothing, and I’d be struggling like the rest who were shunted down there.
Yet, if I didn’t try, I’d lose my mind wondering.
The unknown of what the West Wing hid had burned inside me from the moment Amelia decreed it forbidden.
I turned to the left, glancing behind me to make sure no one approached from the opposite side of the corridor. Empty. A light spilled out from one of the rooms up ahead, so I crept forward carefully. I hadn’t run into Sofia again, or the werewolf who had been in the room that one night, but occasionally when I wandered by, lights were on in the rooms and the doors were shut. I’d like to think the woman who ran Haven wouldn’t be involved in human or monster trafficking, but I couldn’t come up with an explanation for why these rooms were sometimes occupied.
All the mysteries settled uneasily beneath my skin.
Voices sounded from the corridor I’d just come from—including the familiar one of Amelia’s.
Panic rushed through me, and I sped up to the nearest open door and slipped inside. It was dark in here and smelled like lemon cleaner and chalk, but I pressed myself behind the door against the cool wall.
My heart thumped so hard I could swear the sound was audible from the halls, but I forced my breathing to regulate so I didn’t give myself away.
Footsteps grew louder, and so did Amelia’s voice. If she had some kind of tracking on me, she might discover me now and this whole endeavor would be over.
I held as still as possible, trying to make myself invisible. Too fast, the situation brought me back to grade school where I’d done the same, hiding away in a classroom in the hopes Ken and Jake—two of the guys who’d decided to make my life hell—wouldn’t find me. My stomach roiled. For as far as I’d come, I was still cowering, still hiding away.
The footsteps started to fade, so she must’ve headed in the opposite direction with whoever she’d brought up here. My heart thumped at a wild pace, my legs begging me to move even as I remained still. If I stepped into the corridor now, I’d risk detection.
But now I knew where Amelia was, which worked in my favor.
When silence descended again through the area, until all I could hear were my own shaky breaths, I peeked out past the doorframe.
The halls were empty once more.
I resumed my trek down the corridor, past a couple of closed doors that were clearly occupied if the light and slight shuffling coming from behind them was anything to go by. Whoever was in there didn’t want to be identified any more than I didn’t, though, since this area was handled with the utmost secrecy.
I followed the curve of the corridor, which led me to more rooms along another stretch stained by shadows where I stopped and pulled the layout from my pocket.
Up ahead, a short set of steps led to an elevated area, more closed doors and corridors branching from there. It was elegantly roped off with a clear “Do Not Enter” sign.
