Page 153

BELLE

Twenty-two.

It’d been twenty-two minutes since Arkane disappeared. And I couldn’t reach him, nor Jon or Grayson. I didn’t know why, but I just had a terrible feeling that something was wrong.

“Let’s go in,” I told Mikhail.

He hesitated, scratching his forehead like he didn’t know how to handle the situation. “Bellerose, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Kane asked me to…”

I stepped forward, eyeing him sharply. “I get that Ark’s your boss and you have to listen to his orders, but he’s also your friend. My husband,” I pressed. “Let’s go save him while we can.”

He inhaled, staring for a moment before he nodded.

Good.

It was quiet.

Too quiet that my heartbeat was louder than my footsteps.

I didn’t like this kind of quiet.

The kind that was accompanied by an eerie feeling in my gut. Maybe it was nothing, or maybe it was because Arkane wasn’t here.

“You see anyone?” I mumbled to Mikhail. He simply shook his head, keeping his fierce gaze up ahead. We had been walking for almost ten minutes, and not even one sign of life.

“Footsteps.” Mikhail crouched down at the end where the tunnel split into two, shining his light on them. “I see one pair that way and two pairs down here.”

“Which one do you think is Ark’s?” I muttered, standing in the center as I eyed both tunnels. They both looked equally grim and ominous.

“Possibly this one.” He pointed to the one on the right. “It’s a close match to the shoes he wears.”

He went in alone?

“Let’s go then.” I hurried forward. I didn’t like that Arkane was in there all alone with whatever trouble was waiting for him.

He frowned at the deep tunnel, which looked almost frozen in time. “What if it’s a trap?”

“Then we’ll deal with it,” I muttered, taking my other blade out.

We didn’t speak a word as we rushed forward, only to halt in our steps when muffled sounds of two distinct voices reached our ears.

Mikhail’s wide eyes met mine, and he held a finger to his lips.

I nodded, quietly tracing his steps, and a pungent smell invaded my lungs as we rounded the corner. What was that?

And what came into view almost had my heart racing a frantic beat. Arkane was on his back while a man in a white mask stood over him, his boot digging into Arkane’s neck.

Mikhail immediately rushed forward, cocking his gun at the White Hand, but Arkane noticed us, and his eyes widened. “Don’t shoot,” he shouted, and Mikhail stilled, caught off guard, a tense confusion in his eyes. “This place will light up if we use guns.”

What? How?

It was then that I noticed all the cylinders lined up along the side, puffing gas into the air.

The White Hand snapped his head our way. His empty white eyes took us in, and a chuckle left his mouth. “Look who’s here,” he said, almost in a mocking tone. He appeared to be wearing some sort of device that masked his voice, and from his stance, it was hard to tell who he was.

Taking the distraction, Arkane jumped to his feet in one smooth move, catching the White Hand by surprise when he drew the knife out of his thigh and held it to his throat.

“Game’s over, bastard,” Arkane growled. His blood was still dripping from the blade.