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And Timothy, standing there in the low light with the night still clinging to his coat, seems to understand that the woman in front of him will not be put off. Not this time.
39
Hunter
West End is quiet when we pull up to the clocktower, and the stillness makes this whole trip feel like busywork when we should be out there doing something useful—anything that might actually help us find Auggy before it’s too late. The silence presses against the windows as I stare up at the old brick building, wondering if we’re wasting precious minutes chasing a lead that might go nowhere.
“You think he actually knows anything?” I ask.
“No clue,” DK says, looking toward the entrance. “But it seems like a good place to start.”
We leave the weapons locked in the truck and meet Remy who is waiting for us by the door. He must have changed sometime between the performance and getting here because the dress pants and button-down he wore earlier are gone. Now he’s dressed in black cargo pants and a hoodie, looking more like himself again and less like the dutiful boyfriend who spent the evening sitting in a theater.
He opens the door without saying anything and leads us away from the staircase and elevator, taking us through a room that looks like it hasn't been cleaned in years. The only light comes from neon beer signs hanging behind a fully stocked bar positioned against one wall. A pool table sits on the other, its felt worn and faded from use. The place reeks of stale booze and cigarettes, and the smell clings to my throat as we cross toward a door at the rear of the room. Remy reaches into his pocket and pulls out a key.
“I’m going to tell you,” Remy says before sliding the key into the lock, his hand pausing on the knob, “I don’t think he’s involved.”
“Why do you say that?” I ask.
He lifts one shoulder in a shrug but there is nothing casual about the movement. “It’s just a gut feeling. I’ve known Graves my entire life. He’s the only person in my father’s entire sphere that isn’t an asshole.”
“Maybe he was better at hiding his true allegiance than you thought?” DK says. His voice stays even, but I hear the suspicion underneath it. “We’ve all been fooled lately by people we thought were loyal.”
“I get the paranoia. It’s easy to let negative thoughts creep in, trust me, I know, but Graves is a rule follower. A stickler for upholding policies and traditions. He views BRN as a place to embrace brotherhood, build a resume, and solidify donations from alumni. He was devastated when I rushed DKS.” Remy turns the knob, and the door swings inward. “Whatever shit my mom is into, it’s way too dark for Graves.”
At first look, the room is a better setup than the Prince’s dungeon, but not by much. A small barred window sits near the top of one wall, too high to offer much of a view, and a single bed with a thin mattress takes up most of the available space. There is no comfort here, nothing that makes the room feel like somewhere a person is meant to stay.
Graves sits in a worn armchair tucked in the corner with a stack of books beside him. He looks up when we enter, surprise flashing across his face before concern takes over. The first words out of his mouth are, “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
He’s only been here for a few days, but he already has that shrunken-down look of someone who has spent too long behind a locked door. His blond hair seems to have more gray threaded through it than I remember, and although he’s always been lean, his clothes hang differently now, making it obvious he’s lost weight.
DK and I share a glance before he says, “Auggy was kidnapped tonight.”
“Augustine?” Graves repeats, his expression changing as he processes the name. “From the Hideaway?”
“Yes.” I step all the way into the room, keeping my eyes on him. “During Arianette’s performance.”
Graves stares at us for a moment, and the confusion on his face looks genuine enough to make me hesitate. Then his expression hardens with something closer to fear. “How?”
“We’re still trying to figure that out,” DK says. “Which is why we’re here.”
Graves looks between us, and I can almost see him putting the pieces together. “You still think I had something to do with it.”
“We have to consider every possibility,” I tell him. “With Billy and Liam out of the picture, and the current traitors culled out of the Shadows, there has to be someone else helping her.”
“And you think it's me.”
“I think you had access to everything Timothy found in her room at Saint Marys,” I say. “And I can’t see Amber being able to pull this off on her own. Logically, it has to be someone close to the Barons and the House of Night.”
His jaw tightens and his reply is straight forward, “Hunter, I have been loyal to BRN my entire life. That organization means everything to me. Timothy is my best friend. I would never betray him.”
“Then help us understand how she keeps doing this,” I say, unable to keep the frustration out of my voice. “How did Amber get the blueprints and maps? How is she always one step ahead of us?”
Graves leans back in the chair, rubbing a hand over his face. For a moment, he looks exhausted rather than defensive, like he has been carrying this question around himself. “Amber always knew the layout of the House of Night better than anyone. That was how she carried on her affair with Benji. She could slip in and out of the tunnels and crypts for their trysts without Clive or Timothy knowing what she was doing.”
DK’s expression sharpens. “She had access to the tunnels?”
“Of course she did.” Graves looks at him. “But she wasn’t just meeting Benji. She was becoming someone new. Amber's grip on reality was always tenuous–which is not something Timothy wanted to admit. He’s always been attracted to women who are a little…” He hesitates, searching for the right word. “‘Complicated’ is probably the nice way to say it. Broken or damaged are the others. He wanted a woman who carried enough darkness for her to understand his own.”
