Page 2 of A Debt of Darkness

And I've got nothing to lose.

I force the bile back down and harness the adrenaline, ignoring my shaking hand as I reach for the door handle. My palm is already sweaty and my heart's racing harder than if I'd run ten kilometers.

This is the most insane, most fucking stupid idea I've had, and yet I'm turning the doorknob and creeping into the hallway. I've stalked through this corridor a thousand times and crashed along it drunk after nights out—but I've never been this quiet. Never been so afraid.

The antique clock ticks with menace and I glare at it, hating its pretentious gold leaf decorations. It's designed to impress like the hideous artwork Natasha bought at vast expense. I blink in time with the second hand and my breathing quickens as I listen for anything warning me someone else is here.

The seconds count on and I sneak forward, carefully making my way down the marble staircase. I hate the gold railings and their extravagant curls, and one way or the other I won't be enduring them for much longer.

I head for the kitchen, guessing the front door will be locked. I'd be sure if I'd actually planned, but I didn't and all I can do is hope someone made a mistake. An unlocked door means the alarm won't be triggered and it's the only way to escape unnoticed. With any luck, I can make it to one of the paths leading away from the house and I'll disappear into thecity.

Hopefully, this wedding gets canceled before it's even begun.

The kitchen door swings open and the usually busy room is empty. There's no one at the island and the sitting room has no one sitting on the expensive sofas. Natasha likes to call it the family room, but there's nothing close about the five of us. This family sucks and every step closer to the door is one closer to freedom. I'll be glad to be rid of the whole damn lot of them, even if I have to struggle on my own. Even my younger sister has been grating recently, and Izzy’s spoiled, pampered ass gets more entitled every day.

I check the door handle and it isn't locked. I bet Natasha left it open so my stepbrother could get in after another night chasing women. It's hard to know which of the three of them is more disgusting, but Dom probably edges it. He's chased more tail than a manwhore and he particularly likes young girls. He's older than me, but his dates are younger, and he discards them like cheap trash once he's had his fun.

“Going somewhere?”

I freeze as the smooth male voice runs through me like a knife to my goddamn heart. I don't recognize its owner and there's a sinister, dangerous edge to the way he asks his question. Whoever it is already knows exactly what's going on and they're playing with me, thrilled by the torment of torturing a mouse before the cat goes in for the kill.

My breathing turns heavy and my chest presses down on me, crushed under my weight. My only chance evaporated and although this was rash, I'd allowed myself to dream it would be successful. Hope can be fragile and the taste of it was euphoric. Now, I'm left with the bitter, soul-destroying taste of disappointment. It's worse than if I'd never even tried.

“For a run,” I say, forcing my voice to sound confident.

The man behind me laughs under his breath, just loud enough for me to hear. “Try again, darling.”

My teeth grind against each other and my back stiffens. I turn slowly, seething at the ignorant pig strolling towards me like he owns the goddamn place.

“Who the fuck are you?”

His eyebrow flicks up. Barely, but enough for me to catch it and note he's surprised I showed fight. One corner of his mouth curls upwards, sharpening the already acute angles of his face, as he runs his fingertips over the marble counter. He's cool, collected. He's in control and he wants me to know it.

He's intimidating me without even using his size. His muscles could crush me in seconds and they’re all relaxed. His message is obvious and it makes the power differential more apparent.

I'm not even a threat to him. He doesn't even need to try.

“I asked a fucking question.”

“So did I, sweets. In fact, I asked first,” he says, smirking.

I swallow and decide to bluff. It's probably the wrong choice but my head hasn't exactly been thinking straight and it's gone haywire now I’m in panic mode.

I turn back around and reach for the handle. Again. “I already told you. For a run.”

I hear the muscles clenching behind me. I’ll bet those pale blue eyes are shooting daggers into my back.

“I don't like lies. I like liars even less, darling.”

“And I dislike the fucking pet names.” It isn't a question and the snap of my head as I twist around hammers my point home. The man looks at me and it's impossible to tell what he's thinking. His reaction is a mystery, leaving me confused. “It's your turn to answer.”

His grin widens. “Ryan. Henry's head of security.”

“And what the fuck are you doing in my goddamn kitchen?”

Another pulse of amusement flashes through his bright blue eyes watching me like a hawk. “Catching his fiancé doing a runner.”

I huff and shake my head. “I'm going for...”

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