Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Sev is ahead of us. Soldiers front and back.
We turn a corner and the lights flicker again, the sound of our steps bouncing off cold stone loud. At one point, the flickering light takes longer to come back on, and I hear Amal’s cry through her lace gag. I stop, turn to take her in my arms, to hold onto her and for a moment, for one dreadful moment, I don’t feel her there. I can’t see her in that pitch black. Hell, I can’t see my own hand before my eyes.
“Amal!” I call out for her.
She makes a sound, as much as she can make through that lace. The lights flicker back on and she’s there again and I breathe a sigh of relief when she throws herself against me and I hold her, feeling her body tremble as tears wet my neck.
“Shh. It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re okay.” I don’t let go of her again. I weave my fingers with hers and finally, fucking finally, another of their damned secret doors is opened to us and we’re pushed inside what looks to be a study with a fire burning in the far corner and the only lights are those of candles even though there are lamps set throughout the room.
Senna removes his mask, his cloak. The main door opens, not the secret one, and Robertson enters, Jameson whispering something to him. They’ve removed their masks too. Jameson keeps his cloak on, but Robertson slips his off and takes us all in, the soldiers, Senna, my brother and I. Amal.
“Remove her.”
Amal makes a sound of protest and presses herself into my side.
I hold on tight. “Over my dead body. Let’s get this signed. I’m fucking done with this bullshit.”
Robertson opens his mouth probably thinking he’ll order a soldier to take her. I ready myself to battle but I’m surprised when Senna puts his hands up in a gesture to say hold on to Robertson.
“We’re almost done here. We can then escort them all to the boat. Leave it, Master Robertson. It doesn’t matter.”
I glance at Sev who is watching with an expression of intense disbelief. This isn’t normal for the Society. Certainly not for the likes of us who have been excommunicated.
The man behind the desk, I guess the attorney who drew up the paperwork, starts to describe what’s changed as he uncaps a fountain pen and holds it out to Senna.
Senna takes it, signs his name to the contract that looks like it’s been hand-written on old, yellowed paper. The Lawyer is still talking but no one is listening.
Sev is next, he glances through it but he, too, is quick to sign and I don’t even bother reading it before signing my name beside my brother’s.
The attorney melts wax over a candle and drips it onto the bottom of the old parchment, typical fucking Society. He presses the seal of IVI’s Tribunal onto it and once the wax hardens, removes it.
“We’re done,” I say.
“Yes, you are,” Senna says, picking up the sheet, no longer sparing even a glance for us. “Escort them to the boat.”
I look down at Amal who keeps her face buried against my chest. I kiss the top of her head, wanting more than anything to rip the lace from her but knowing we need to get the fuck out of here while we can. Not quite believing they will let us go. I won’t believe it until we’re safely on the mainland. Hell, until we’re back in Devil’s Peak. Trevino territory. Even IVI wouldn’t dare fuck with him in Cassian’s territory.
Soldiers lead us out of the room back down that freezing, narrow corridor with its flickering lights. We turn off down another passage fairly quickly though and begin a long descent. This corridor grows colder and colder, freezing and damp, the only light coming from the flashlights soldier are carrying. I touch a wall, feel the jagged, wet rock, the sound of the sea growing louder.
I glance back at Severin who shakes his head. This is no good. No fucking good. Only three soldiers accompany us. We can take them. Even if all three are armed, which I’m certain they are, we can take them. But not yet. I need to see the boat. We need to ensure our escape off this hell-island.
The ground grows wet with sea water coming in. We’re almost there. And when I see the light at the end of the tunnel and realize it’s a spotlight from the boat bobbing on the wild sea, I breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe this is it. Maybe they will let us go after all. We are Blackstones. We cannot simply disappear. People will look for us, and they won’t want any attention drawn to them.
We step out of the cave like tunnel, our feet in several inches of water, the bottoms of our clothes drenched. I keep hold of Amal. She’s barefoot and it’s slippery.