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She hesitated, then removed her hat and pulled a short hairpin from her braid. It wasn’t essential for her coiffure; it was clearly there for some other purpose entirely.

Gideon pursed his lips to suppress a sardonic smile. Had she started carrying this pin before or after his suggestion during the night of the storm when her carriage had supposedly broken down?

Instead of voicing his curious thoughts, he crouched beside the trapdoor and began working on the lock. The mechanism was of good quality but not beyond his abilities, and within moments, he heard the satisfying click.

He threw open the trapdoor, laying it carefully on the ground to avoid making noise that might attract the guards’ attention. When he peered inside, he was greeted by absolute darkness—a black void that seemed to swallow light itself.

He straightened and gestured toward the opening. “After you.”

But Leila didn’t respond. She stood completely frozen, her eyes wide with what appeared to be genuine terror. Her face had gone chalk white, and her hands trembled visibly.

Fear of the dark? That seemed… unlike her.

She hadn’t seemed afraid of darkness when he’d found her in his room the night of her supposed carriage accident.

“Come,” he said, softening his tone slightly. “Your brother might be there.”

But she shook her head frantically, her pupils dilated with what looked like panic. “I can’t… it’s… that place is too narrow. I can’t go in there.”

Was she afraid of narrow, confined spaces then? Gideon studied her reaction more closely. The terror in her eyes seemed genuine. Her breathing was becoming rapid and shallow, the early signs of panic.

Either she’s an exceptional actress, or this fear is real.

He grabbed her by the shoulders, trying to ground her in the present moment. “Look at me.”

She raised her eyes to his, and he saw the full extent of her distress. Her face contorted in a grimace of horror, and her entire body trembled with barely contained panic. If this was an act, it was a masterful one.

“Fine, I’ll go on my own,” he decided. “But you need to stand guard. If anyone comes closer, throw your hairpin down to let me know, and then hide.”

He pressed her hairpin into her palm. She nodded rapidly, but her breathing was still too fast, and her hands shook.

“Do you understand what I’m telling you?” he asked, needing to be certain she was lucid enough to serve as lookout.

“I do. Yes, I do,” she repeated, nodding to herself as if trying to convince her mind to cooperate.

She was completely out of sorts, which meant Gideon would have to be very quick. If guards arrived while she was in this state, she might not be able to warn him effectively. And if this was all an elaborate trap, he was about to walk directly into it.

He patted Leila on the shoulder to give her comfort—he couldn’t help but feel protective, even if he distrusted her—and lowered himself through the trapdoor into the waiting darkness below.

* * *

The moment Gideon vanished into the darkness below, Leila let out a breath. It wasn’t relief exactly, nor was it excitement, though her heart raced with anticipation and trepidation.

She was a bundle of nervous energy, every nerve ending alive with the knowledge that the next few minutes would determine whether they both lived or died. But she had planned her next steps during the long ride to this location and had rehearsed them in her mind. She had been waiting for this part while dreading it in equal measure.

The panic she’d displayed at the sight of the trapdoor hadn’t been entirely an act. The thought of those narrow, dark spaces still made her skin crawl, bringing back memories of when she’d first been captured by what she now knew to be the Brotherhood of the Crimson Fist. However, it had also served as the perfect cover for what she needed to do next.

So she tapped into that fear and made herself shudder until he left her alone.

Forgive me, Gideon. Bozkutim. I hope you’ll understand eventually.

She stabbed her hairpin into her braid and dashed out of the room, her soft-soled boots making no sound on the rotting floorboards. Every second counted now. The hidden torture rooms downstairs would keep Gideon occupied for some time—just enough for her to execute her plan. Or so she hoped.

As she reached the exterior of the building, the two guards turned around with the slow, unsteady movements of men deep in their cups. She’d counted on this, having observed their habits during her previous visit.

Leila and the Cardinal had stopped here before their arrival in London. She hadn’t lied to Gideon about that. She knew the best way to tell a convincing lie was to surround it with the truth. So she told the truth as much as she could.

This place was used as a torture chamber or a prison, something the Cardinal had shown Leila to subtly hint at what would happen to her if she failed her final assignment. Well, she had other plans for this dreadful place.