Page 80 of The Shadow Sanctum

I press my hand to my forehead and close my eyes.

He didn’t leave.

“Thank you.” Instinctively, my hand lifts to clasp her shoulder. I hover it a few inches above before pulling back and turning in the direction of the Keep. “Thanks so much!”

I give a wave over my shoulder and take off jogging, then running, my pace increasing until the Keep comes into view.

It rises above the compound like a fortress, even bigger today. My run slows into a fast walk as I approach the door. My pulse hammers harder than it should, like I’m going to find Angel’s eyeballs plucked out on the floor. But his trick with the flour wouldn’t be discovered so soon; he’s way too savvy for that.

Yet Angel isn’t used to being challenged, and Aurelius isn’t used to people not bending to his will. If they’re together, they’re no doubt clashing.

The door opens with a groan. Inside, the Keep feels different from the rest of the Sanctum—quieter, air heavier, smelling faintly of cedar and old smoke. I move slowly, ears straining for voices. Nothing. Just the creak of the wooden beams and the whisper of my own breath.

First stop: the sitting room. Empty. A few logs stacked by the hearth, fire dead cold. The dining room is empty as well, and when I peek my head into the kitchen, all I spot are counters wiped clean, iron pots lined up like soldiers. If he was here, he didn’t linger.

The library? I head upstairs and nudge the door open. OCD-level organized shelves, leather spines, nothing out of place. No Angel.

I mutter under my breath, “Fuck…” and stalk down the corridor.

That leaves one place.

Aurelius’s study.

I keep my steps soft as I head to the other corridor. The door is closed, and no light spills from beneath.

I press my ear to the door and listen closely but hear nothing. Holding my breath, I crack it open and peer inside.

Angel is hunched over the laptop at Aurelius’s desk. His fingers fly across the keyboard like he’s trying to break the damn thing. His face is tight with focus, jaw clenched, hair sticking out in wild tufts like he’s been at it for a while.

Relief crashes over me—followed quickly by dread.

“Angel,” I hiss.

He jolts. “Shit,” he says, short of breath. He scrubs his hand over his face as I shut the door.

“You scared the hell out of me,” he mutters, softer this time, like he’s relieved I’m here.

I cross the room quickly, jaw unlatched. “What the fuck are you doing in here?”

Angel swivels the screen toward me, and for a second, the only light in the study glows ghost-blue across his face. His eyes are wide—but not careless. Fear and urgency, not quite panic.

“The flour… The fucking kids ingested it. And it’s working faster than it’s supposed to. We have to get antibiotics soon. Today. Now.”

For a beat, all I hear is the clock on Aurelius’s wall ticking steadily. Unaffected by the panic that should be setting in right now, if I wasn’t so relieved.

He already knows. He’s already working on it.

I’m not on my own.

He points at the screen. “But I can’t figure out this goddamn password.”

“I have the password for Luna’s compound. We can⁠—”

“It’s being monitored.”

I force myself to keep my voice down. “What?”

Flipping the computer back around, Angel glances up but goes back to the screen, his mind half with me, half trying to figure out a riddle he has no idea how to solve. “The albino bitch is being monitored. I already checked surveillance; this is the only device that’s safe.”