One of them smacked aside a low branch; the other kicked aside a weed. The low hum of conversation came as they settled onto two fallen rocks by the cave’s entrance, pulled out a bottle and some packaged food from their coats, and proceeded to have a midnight snack.
The fire in me snarled.
The violence that’d always been a part of me—the part that Rook had done her best to tame—sprang free with claws and fury.
A lamenting moan hung on the breeze, whipping my head to the side. It sounded exactly like Lao Li had said—like the mountain was screaming.
I moved before I could stop myself.
Leaving my spot in the trees, I marched directly toward the two men sharing their starlit feast. Why were they here? Why guard an abandoned geothermal site in the middle of the night? Even if itwasstill operated by Brimstone—some off-the-booksreactor or some other business experiment—it didn’t explain why guards were needed at this time.
It took an embarrassingly long moment for them to spy me, chatting quietly and working their way through their food. I cut through the broken fence and drew to a stop.
The one who’d been smoking the cigarette froze. Choking on a mouthful, he launched to his feet, knocked over his bottle, and whipped a gun from his holster.
“Stop right there!” His Mandarin was short and choppy, revealing he wasn’t from around here. “Who the hell are you?”
“Let me in.” I crossed my arms, palming the dagger hilts in my waistband.
The other man stood slowly, looking me up and down with a laugh. “You want in? You think you can wander here in the dead of night and—”
“I’m the rightful ruler of Brimstone Industries.” Leaning forward, I smiled thinly. “I’m Yunhui Luxin. Let. Me. In.”
They shot each other a look.
I gave them a few seconds.
A single minute to prove they were innocent and I didn’t have to kill them.
But they ruined it by pointing their guns at my head and—
I swooped forward, feinted to the side, and plunged a dagger into the closest guard’s jugular before spinning and slashing the neck of the other. All those nights of murdering eager little assassins came in handy as I dispatched them without a sound.
Dropping their guns, their hands clutched their blood-spurting throats. As they gurgled and choked, I shoved the knives back into my waistband.
The fire inside me raged.
It wantedout.
But I gritted my teeth and watched them die, then stepped silently into the mountain.
* * * * *
The deeper I went, the narrower the tunnel became.
The air grew stagnant.
Breathing felt wrong—as if the mountain itself exhaled a toxic mix of misery and mourning.
A few sporadic lightbulbs led the way, their grimy wires guiding me down and down. No signage. No guards. Just the oppressive sensation of stepping into hell.
Around a few corners and down a few more pathways. Voices echoed from the depths. Muffled and uneasy, the murmurs of pain and the occasional cry of agony.
The fire in me slammed against my ribs, threatening to break my control.
Sweat beaded along my spine as I kept going. Heat crawled across my skin in erratic pulses, scorching my shirt.
Hurry.
