Page 36 of Midnight Rebel

He yanks me closer, his breath hot on my face. “You’re going to forget everything you’ve seen here. You’re going to pack your bags and leave Midnight Falls. And if you breathe a word of this to anyone, I’ll make sure it’s the last thing you ever do. Understand?”

Fear courses through me, but beneath it, a spark of defiance ignites. “Is that how you’ve kept this going for so long, Frank? Threats and intimidation? How long have you been sabotaging The Manor?”

Frank’s eyes widen in surprise, then narrow dangerously. “You don’t know anything,” he growls, but I see the panic in his eyes.

“I know enough,” I counter. “The redirected payments, the inflated expenses, the ‘accidents’ at events. It’s all you, isn’t it? Playing the hero while you bleed this place dry.”

His grip tightens painfully. “I’ve given my life to this estate. Decades of loyal service, and for what? To be treated like a servant while the Montgomerys live in luxury. I deserve my share, and I’m going to get it,” he spits out.

“By selling out to developers?” I press, watching his face for confirmation. “Tearing down The Manor for condos?”

Frank’s expression is all the answer I need. He drags me toward the door, his voice low and menacing. “You’re coming with me. We’re going to have a little chat about keeping your mouth shut.”

As we pass a side table, I manage to knock a vase to the floor. It shatters with a satisfying crash. Frank curses, his grip loosening for a second.

It’s all the opening I need. I wrench free, stumbling backward. Frank lunges for me, but I dodge, years of self-defense classes kicking in. I sprint down the hallway, my heart pounding in my ears.

Frank’s heavy footsteps pound behind me, gaining ground. I push myself harder, rounding a corner and nearly colliding with a suit of armor.

An idea strikes me. I grab the helmet, yanking it free.

As Frank appears around the corner, I hurl the helmet at him with all my might. It catches him square in the chest, knocking the wind out of him. He staggers back, gasping for air.

I don’t wait to see if he recovers. I run, my legs burning with the effort. I need to call Colt, but can only do it somewhere private and safe.

I dash down another hallway, frantically searching for an exit when I see it—the door to the tunnels. It’s risky, given the recent cave-in, but it might be my only chance.

I yank the door open and plunge into the darkness, pulling it shut behind me. The air is cool and damp, heavy with the scent of earth and decay.

I fumble in my pocket, relief washing over me as my fingers close around my phone.

With shaking hands, I pull it out and dial Colt’s number. It rings once, twice, three times. “Come on, come on,” I mutter.

As I hear the call connect, the tunnel door crashes open. Frank’s silhouette fills the doorway, backlit by the hall lights.

“Colt—”

Frank is on me in an instant, and the phone is wrenched from my grip, clattering to the ground as his hand clamps over my mouth.

“Thought you could outsmart me, did you?” he hisses, his breath hot against my ear.

I struggle against his grip, but he’s too strong. My eyes dart to my phone on the ground, Colt’s name still flashing on the screen. So close, yet so far.

Frank follows my gaze and sneers. With deliberate slowness, he brings his foot down on the phone, crushing it under his heel.

The screen goes dark, and with it, my last hope for immediate rescue.

“Now,” Frank says, his voice eerily calm, “we’re going to take a little walk. And you’re going to listen very carefully to what I have to say.”

He starts dragging me deeper into the tunnels, away from the light, away from safety. As we move, Frank keeps talking, his voice full of anger and bitter resentment.

“You don’t understand what it’s been like,” he says. “Years of watching them throw money away on parties and renovations while I struggled to make ends meet. I kept this place running, and what thanks did I get?”

I try to speak, but his hand is still firmly over my mouth. He seems to notice and loosens his grip slightly.

“And that justifies stealing? Sabotaging events?” I gasp.

Frank’s grip tightens again. “It was supposed to be simple. Make the place look unprofitable, and force a sale. But then you had to start digging, didn’t you?”

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