Page 170 of Hell Breaks Loose

Rachelle steps into the moonlight, her gown glowing white.

Like some ancient specter.

Her bare feet seem to glide across the clearing toward me.

Bringing a world of dread and hatred with her.

“He ran astray for a time, yes. I smelled your stink on him when he returned. But I knew he would. Because you are weak. And I am fated to win.”

She stands over me in her splendor, terrible and looking far more drawn than I ever remember her in the past. I hate how scared I really am, backed up against my father’s grave.

My friends in mortal danger.

Ora fights her way free of the hands holding her, rushes to Alaya’s side, cradling her head and glaring at Evan.

“You bastards,” Ora growls.

“Bring them with us. Into the crypt. It’s time I see what my inheritance holds.”

Evan grabs me, dragging me out of the way, then shoving me forward through the dark opening in the stone. Stairs lead down into darkness where the panel slid away.

Smothering obscurity wraps my senses in claustrophobic angst, making each step a greater effort. By the time I reach the bottom, I’m quaking.

Memories of Marco’s basement still claw at my mind, reminding me of the utter loneliness. The cold.

And even though Evan is right there with me, it offers me no comfort. He’s vacant, as cold as the nights alone in the dark.

“Move.” His chilling tone forces me forward against every instinct in my body telling me to lock up and break down crying.

Even my rage can't overcome this feeling.

I thought I was past this.

But I close my eyes.

I breathe, like Tell and Gavin taught me to do, to go to that place that only I can go.

Center myself.

And I take one step.

Light flickers around me, triggered by a red, blinking motion sensor above us. Track lighting runs out ahead of us, leading the way down a long ramp, out into a chamber beyond.

As we continue along the walk, I marvel at the scope of the place.

Even from here, I can tell it’s enormous.

The slope increases, taking us deeper underground, several stories by the time we reach the opening at the end of the ramp. At the bottom, the gap in the walls opens onto a concourse, framed by staggering metallic panels from floor to ceiling.

It’s industrial.

Militaristic.

Unlike anything I’ve ever seen. The structure looks like it could withstand a nuclear bomb.

The illumination clicks out ahead of us, up the walls along runnels, seams in the sides of the reinforced material of the sealed atrium. All the way to the ceiling, the notches swell with white flickering bulbs, until the entire space is bright as day.

“Holy…” I whisper, marveling at the sheer immensity of it.

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