I stare down at my father’s switchblade in my trembling hands and take a deep breath, tasting gun powder and iron in the back of my throat.I might be sick, I think, before steeling my nerves.
If you stay here, you’ll die.
Peering up at Bes with renewed confidence, I reach for his outstretched hand—
A dark figure flashes behind his left shoulder.A Blackshirt.
In one fluid motion, I push Bes aside with my left hand while pressing the release button of the switchblade with my right. I lunge for them, a cry releasing from my throat as the Amulet of Amun heats against the small of my back.
Before the Blackshirt can raise his own weapon, I plunge my steel into the side of his neck.
The young man’s dark eyes widen, mouth falling open in surprise as blood spurts from his mortal wound.
My breath tumbles from my mouth at the sight of him.Christ, he’s not much older than I am.
His gun falls from his hand, clattering to the slick ground. I yank out my blade then, holding his gaze until he collapses to the floor, utterly motionless.
No longer in immediate danger, nausea swings through me. I slam my hand down on the table and bend at the waist to dry heave. Nothing comes out, though, which is both a blessing and curse. Images of me shooting Claude crop up in my mind, but I shut it out. We donothave time for me to suffer from a nervous breakdown.
Chest heaving, I glance up to see if there are more coming for us—when I notice something out of place among the chaos. There’s one other blonde head here besides mine. Their face comes into view, and… it might be the fear infecting my mind, but I could swear it’s Ingrid.IknewI saw her earlier: she’s here, she’s found us.
Fear freezes the blood in my veins. The chances of the Blackshirts choosing this night to raid the club can’t be coincidental. Especially if the one member of the God Men who’s been chasing us since Cairo came with them.
Or, more likely, led them here.
Either Gino or Francesca betrayed us. There’s no other explanation.If we make it out of this alive, I’m never letting Bes hear the end of it.
When I blink, though, Ingrid is gone. My gaze searches the room frantically, yet I can’t mark her again.
“Miss Hawkins—” Bes starts. But I can barely understand him over the renewed ringing in my ears, the pounding inside my chest, the thrumming of my pulse.
I grab the edge of the black tablecloth beside me and wipe off my blade with trembling hands. I have no idea if I got it all off or not. Flicking the mechanism to hide it once more, I place it into the pocket of my jumpsuit, no longer caring if I stain it. I’m certain I have the Blackshirt’s blood on me elsewhere; I have neither the time, nor the stomach, to worry about it now.
“You can thank me later,” I croak out, grabbing the hand he offered me before. It’s warm and reassuring and the only thing keeping me on my feet. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
Bes wordlessly leads us around the booth to the space between it and the edge of the stage, without argument from me or Cec. Cec, who hasn’t spoken a single word since the murder of the Maestro. I glance over at him, but it’s impossible to tell whether or not he’s gone catatonic, or if he’s justblindlyfollowing Bes’s lead.
If we live through this, I’m going to have to tell Cec that joke.
Stooping, Bes presses his fist into a few of the stones in the wall without any luck. I glance behind me, heart in my throat. Luckily, we’re hidden enough that no one pays us any mind.Hopefully Ingrid doesn’t find us…
Finally, one of the square stones gives in at his touch. A short, thin opening leading into complete darkness appears. I grimace.Don’t care for that.But it’s either stay here and die, or risk the dark.
Grasping Cec’s hand and slipping through first, Bes follows after us. With the tight fit, I hold my breath as my hips attempt to keep me out, flesh pressing into the jagged walls. I quickly squeeze into a larger area beyond the opening, pulling Cec with me.
Squinting into the dark, a cold, dim passage surrounds us. I let out a breath, realizing I’ve been holding it since before the opening.
With all of us inside, Bes pulls a lever on the wall—the stone wall closes resolutely.
A quiet obscurity envelopes us.
There’s no electricity here, no fire either. Only the vague possibility of moonlight somewhere down the tunnel. Before I can panic even further, Bes grabs my hand.
“Nowhere to go but forward, Miss Hawkins.”
Not daring to speak aloud, I nod. Even though he can’t see me.
The three of us continue on through the dingy tunnel. Without the light of the club, it takes time for our eyes to adjust, and we’re forced to feel our way along the grimy walls and uneven ground. If it weren’t for the adrenaline pumping through my veins, I wouldn’t even be on my feet right now. Not after what I did. Not after taking another man’s life.
