On reaching the third step, an escape route flashed across my mind, and I angled myself toward it. By the time I hit the fifth step, Desmond seemed to get over her initial shock. Maybe she hadn’t expected me to simply try to escape from her.
“Grab her,” she shouted, annoyance and anger rife in her voice.
“I’ve got her,” replied Owen.
I couldn’t help but throw him a look over my shoulder as he spoke, disbelief still coursing through me. A small, hopeful voice in my mind reminded me Owen was my friend. Yet the churning anger and terror in the pit of my stomach reached up and engulfed my heart with a grip of violence, reminding me of his betrayal.
Torn in two, I kept running, hooking a left into the dark recesses of Ashabee’s home. I tore through the house, dodging furniture and walls left and right. My breath was coming in sharp bursts, my ribs already starting to ache. Only the sounds of Owen’s footsteps behind me kept me moving forward.
I headed for the stairs with the secret entrance to Ashabee’s vault. The door was partially closed as I approached, and I felt myself shudder with fright as I leapt over an overturned chair. I needed more time. Turning, I kicked the chair at Owen. It didn’t slide far, but it was far enough for him to catch a knee on. He went down hard with a loud oof, but I’d already whirled and moved to the door, throwing it open.
“Violet!” he shouted insistently behind me.
I ignored him as I pulled back the heavy bit of door disguised as a wall, making my way down the small stairs, not bothering to close it behind me.
The room was dark, but I didn’t have time to hit the lights—I dove forward, using my memory of the place to guide me. I was so frantic, so desperate to get away, that I was moving too fast. My foot caught on something, and the next thing I knew, I was falling forward.
My head! I thought as I began to fall, my arms raising up over my face. I had seconds before I impacted, but even then, I knew my head was going to collide with my cast, shattering my skull. My second thought was, I can’t go through this again.
Something grabbed me from behind, hooked low around my hips, arresting my fall somewhat. Bracing myself, my hands shot out, the cast slipping across the floor. Waves of agony rolled up my right arm. I stayed in that position for five seconds, not trusting the sudden return of gravity.
And then I lashed out with my elbow, twisting and trying to get a good angle on Owen’s head. “Get off me,” I shouted, panic giving my tone a brittle, frantic edge. Ducking, he missed my jab and let me go. I scrambled away from him on the floor as he stood over me, his features hidden by the room’s darkness.
“Violet, please! I’m not going to hurt you!” Owen’s voice had its own panicked tone to it, something that gave me pause, egging the voice in my brain to continue its reminders that I had always been able to trust Owen.
The bitter seed in my heart formed words that I spat out as I awkwardly flipped over to my backside and sat up. “You… You brought Desmond here!” I eyed the distance between us, gauging how much I needed to kick out his knee.
“I did,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “And I’m sorry for not telling you, but this is our chance, Violet. This is our chance to kill her!”
I froze. “You’re setting me up so you can kill her,” I breathed, horrified.
“I’m setting her up so we can kill her. Please, Violet—I’m your friend. I would never betray you. Not really.”
“Do you have her?” came a muffled shout from somewhere above, and my heart palpitated in response to Desmond’s voice.
Owen turned back to me and knelt down, his hands reaching through the darkness to seize my shoulders. “Please,” he whispered, his voice thick with desperation. “Please help me kill her. I promise I will get you out of this alive.”
The end is near…