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I had no idea which guards were on our side.
Ben and Stewart trailed a few men behind.
My back prickled as they stared at me.
I wanted to fall back and talk to them.
Plan a siege as we walked because tonight was the fucking night.
There would be no Christmas.
No coup.
No bombs, no bullets, no freedom.
Victor knew.
How much he knew, I didn’t know.
But he knew something.
And none of this was fucking good.
Stone swallowed us whole as Victor vanished into the tower and we all followed. Echoes throbbed with ice. Eternal coldness bit into my bones with fangs.
A guard stepped forward and pulled out a ring full of brass keys from his pocket.
They jingled painfully loud.
The scratch of metal on metal as it slipped into the ornate lock. The creaking hinges as the door opened.
I couldn’t fucking breathe.
The door screeched, dragging over the stone pavers as the guard wrenched it wide and stepped aside for Victor to climb down the stairs.
We followed.
So many stairs.
A winding corkscrew of never-ending stairs.
Electrical torches flickered like fire on the walls, granting just enough light not to trip but not enough to get my bearings.
Where the hell is he taking us?
Musk and dankness billowed like a swamp.
The air turned dense and earthy, growing colder and colder until my toes turned numb, and claustrophobia clawed at my throat.
The glow of Ily in her stunning white gown was the only thing keeping me sane.
She was my beacon.
My north.
My only.
She glowed, not because of her dress, but because of her spirit. The light in her that tempered my black. Her goodness to my darkness. Her redemption to my remorse.
