There was a shout out on the gambling floor below.
With a curse, Connor looked between me and the converted warehouse.
“Go,” I urged him. “I’ve got this.”
Connor hesitated a moment but another shout had him sprinting back to the den.
Taking a deep breath, I knocked. “Liam? It’s me. Can I come in?”
There was no answer.
I tried the knob, which was locked. Looking around, I didn’t see anything to help me pry the door open.
Maybe he left.
But there was a subtle energy, a charged current that crackled through the air, that told me the masked devil was inside. I went to the other door, opened it, and gasped.
“They should really keep this locked!” I said under my breath.
A single metal chair sat in the center. There was a work bench, and hanging above it, was a plethora of tools. It stank of bleach, but even the chemicals couldn’t hide the memory of blood, tears, and screams.
Having a torture chamber in a place that could easily be busted by the law was probably not the smartest idea. Of course, to the average person, this might just be a storage area for construction workers. Only someone from the underworld would sense the violence that could never be washed from the walls. But I pushed that observation out of my head as my eyes landed on just the thing I needed.
Taking a crowbar, I hurried back to the locked door. The slim metal tip barely wedged in the crack. I leaned into it.
Nothing.
Clenching my jaw, I forced my strength against the lever. The door whined. Wood cracked, and a few splinters gave me the encouragement to shove harder.
Come on!
Liam was in there. He wasn’t responsive.
I had to get to him.
Breathing hard, I redoubled my efforts. Sweat beaded across my skin. A stupid door wasn’t stopping me from finding my beast. Not if something was wrong.
With a low groan, the door yielded. My feet skidded back, but I scrambled forward. It was almost there. Just a little more!
The wood broke.
I pitched forward, nearly impaling myself on the crowbar. While the knob and lock remained in place, there was an opening big enough for me to slip through. I did. The darkness swallowed me.
Stepping cautiously through the shadows, I heard the sharp bursts of air that clued me in to where the monster was. I slowed. Crouched. Reached out to feel. The tips of my fingers brushed against his slacks.
“Liam,” I murmured. “Are you ill?”
A short, choked laugh escaped his lips. “I’m fecking weak, cailín.”
As I my eyes adjusted to the thick gloom, I saw his mask was gone. Both hands were bare, one shoved against his scarred flesh. The other was at his throat, fingers clutching the gold necklace he wore.
My necklace.
“Tell me what to do?” I insisted.
Liam took a ragged gulp of air. “It will pass.”
He was…trembling.
