He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone, sliding his thumb across the screen.
Neither Kingston nor I were close enough to see its contents, but Kingston’s demeanor changed. A sudden shift in his stance—feet slightly apart. The straightening of his spine. Tension in his shoulders as they rose to his ears. Fear rippled down his frame like a tremor beneath the Earth’s surface.
And to distract from it, he did something I’d seen him do countless times before.
He brushed his hand down the front of his clothes.
Awareness of what it meant hit me before Morty brought the phone over to Kingston. I moved off the bed and hunted for my clothes. I tugged on my bra and leggings beneath my sleep shirt, keeping my back turned toward them.
“He’s here.”
“Time to hide, little princess.”
I faced them, meeting Kingston’s eyes as they filled with fear. Darting from the bookcase to the bedroom door, he furrowed his brow before changing course.
In two quick strides, he pressed his hand on the wall by his drawing chair, and another secret panel opened up. “He’s in the house, Quinn. It’s too late?—”
“On the stairs.” Morty’s clipped update came with a groan, and as Kingston pulled something out of one wall, Morty pulled the bookcase away from the other.
I didn’t question it. When Kingston held out his hand for me, I took it and went into the hidden space.
My eyebrows jumped as Morty stepped inside after me. “Wait?—”
Kingston placed something in my hand and clipped out an order to our guest. “Morty, put your back against the wall.”
He complied, increasing my concern and confusion. Kingston led my hand to Morty’s neck, and as I adjusted my grip, I understood what he’d given me.
“If he moves, you push the plunger down.” My eyes widened, but he shook his head. “It won’t kill him. Not before I can save him, but itwillstop him.”
“Oh, the dramatics,” Morty groaned.
Kingston and I snapped in unison, “Shut up, Morty.”
“Quinn?” The urgency in Kingston’s voice sealed my decision, and possibly, my fate. Morty could easily overpower me, and Kingston knew it. “If he moves even a muscle?—”
“I got it.” I nodded, assuring him as best I could. “Go.”
Features drawn tight with fear, he retreated a step, and I faced Morty with my hand on the plunger of the small syringe. As soon as my eyes locked on him, Kingston shut us inside the secret passageway behind his bookcase.
Four heartbeats later, the door to Kingston’s bedroom opened and shut, and Morty just couldn’t help himself. He whispered, “I could easily get that away from you, you know?”
But the quiet tone of his voice was the only sign I had of how seriously he took the situation. And because I was seconds from freaking out, I rolled my eyes.
“Obviously, Morty. But you won’t.”
Light creeping in from above us illuminated his features enough to give away the slight twitch of his jaw.
With a low hum, he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “What makes you say that?”
“You’re scared of him, too.” The words came out without judgment, but he flinched. My grip tightened on the syringe. “I don’t get it. How one man gains that kind of power, but he has it over all of you, doesn’t he?”
His eyes narrowed on my face, studying me as he swallowed tightly, but he didn’t say anything else.
The longer the silence drew on, the more anxiety crept in.
My palms grew slick, and my heart thumped loudly in the silence between us.
The beat quickened as minutes dragged by.
