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A number of men were tied up on the ground floor while the Shadows searched the rooms for documents, secret doors, prisoners, and anything else that could help them expose the Brotherhood.

“There must be a trapdoor leading to the cellar somewhere around here,” Leila said.

“Yes, there is!” one of the men called. “It’s here.”

Leila rushed to the spot just as two men were lifting it open.

“May I?” she asked, and they let her go first. Gideon followed.

The layout of the downstairs cellar resembled the one where they had been kept prisoners, but instead of cells filled with captives, this space overflowed with various items. One cell contained expensive art, presumably stolen or forged. Another held crates of gold coins, jewels, and other valuables, while a different cell was filled with silks, tea, and other contraband. Numerous other items cluttered the rooms.

But there was no Emir.

“What do you want to do with these things?” one of the men in Shadows’ attire asked.

“Take them all. These would make valuable donations to the local orphanage and women’s shelter.”

“All of these?” The man seemed surprised.

“Yes.” Gideon nodded curtly and followed Leila out of the cellar.

“There is no one here.” A man approached Gideon as they resurfaced on the ground floor. “We searched the place from top to bottom. There are no prisoners here.”

“I don’t believe this.” Leila bit her lip, nervously scanning the large hall. “Have you asked these men?” She nodded toward the eight guards tied up in the center, their mouths gagged.

“Yes, and aside from foul words and idle threats, they haven’t shared anything else.”

Leila untied one of the guard’s gags. “Is there a boy, about fifteen, hidden here somewhere? Please, you can help him. You can be the better man.”

“‘ave you tried lookin’,” he paused with a lewd grin, “in yer muff?”

Gideon pulled out his dagger and drove it into the man’s knee. He yelped in agony, and Gideon repeated Leila’s question, less politely.

“I ain’t got no bleedin’ clue ‘bout any lad in ‘ere,” the man screamed through the pain.

Leila was losing hope until she noticed another guard shifting uncomfortably. She moved toward him and saw the hilt of a familiar dagger protruding from his boot—Emir’s dagger.

Leila pulled it out and brought it to the man’s face. “It’s his dagger. What did you do to him?”

She pulled down the rag covering his mouth.

“I ain’t, I swear on me mum! I seen ‘im when ‘e was brought ‘ere. I give ‘im a good search and took ‘is dagger, I did. The master took ‘im upstairs, an’ I ain’t seen ‘im since.”

Her heart sank. “He is here. He still is. He has to be.”

“He brought him upstairs, which means there must be a secret door that was missed or perhaps some sort of enclosed space,” Gideon added. “Come.”

Gideon led her upstairs, and they searched every room in the house again. Frustration mounting, Leila banged on every surface, trying to determine if there was an empty space behind it while also attempting to keep herself from screaming.

“Leila!” Gideon called sharply, and she ran toward him. “I feel something here.”

He ran his hands along what appeared to be a solid wall, but when he pressed against a particular section, it gave slightly. Together, they discovered the hidden mechanism—a small carved rose that, when twisted, revealed a narrow staircase leading up to what must have been the attic.

They climbed the steep, creaking steps in silence, Leila’s heart hammering against her ribs. At the top, they found a small wooden door, unlocked.

Inside was a small room with no windows and no light except for a flickering candle on a makeshift table. A thin mattress lay on the floor, surrounded by scattered books. And on the mattress, hunched over an open volume, sat a solitary boy.

Emir.