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His nods to the far end. “Take that end. I’ll walk backwards.”

We carry the chest out of the bedroom.

The hallway is dim. The portraits of dead Vexleys stare down at us as we pass.

The chest knocks against my thigh. I ignore the pain.

We reach the service corridor.

I’ve walked these halls a thousand times with linens in my arms, polish on my hands, a list of chores in my head. I know where the floorboards creak. I know which door sticks.

I’ve never carried a body through these hallways.

A sob forms in my throat. I swallow it down so hard it hurts.

“Stop,” Nathaniel says softly.

I shake my head. “No.”

“You need a second.”

“No.” I tighten my grip until my fingers ache. “I need this to be over.”

We keep moving.

The lower hall is empty when we reach it. Too empty. The staff has obeyed Nathaniel’s command. The house feels like it’s holding its breath.

By the time we reach the side entrance near the garage, sweat dampens the back of my neck. My arms burn. My palms are slick. The chest gets heavier with every step.

Nathaniel shifts his grip. “Almost there.”

The side door opens into the evening. Cool air hits my face, and I nearly gasp at the relief of it. Until I stumble.

Nathaniel catches his side of the chest harder. “Careful.”

“Sorry,” I whisper.

He glances at me but says nothing.

The larger cars are kept in the side garage. We set the chest down for a moment.

That’s when I hear it.

A small sound. A footstep on gravel.

My blood turns to ice.

Slowly, Nathaniel turns. I turn.

Hazel stands at the edge of the drive.

“Hazel! Go back to your room,” Nathaniel says. “Didn’t you get the orders?”

Hazel doesn’t move.

“Hazel,” he says. “Now.”

She swallows. Then she looks at me as if she’s searching for something on my face.