Page 77 of The Shadow King's Brother

Am I going crazy?

"Nica?"

My vision swims, the world tilting and blurring. My shoulder must be worse than I thought.

I follow the hallway deeper into the warehouse, the air growing colder, damper.

I try to focus, to shut out the pain, to concentrate on finding her. But Eddie's words keep echoing in my mind: Can you get to her in time?

Suddenly, I hear a sound – a faint, muffled cry coming from behind one of the doors. My heart leaps. Is it her? It has to be her.

I reach the door, trembling as I grasp the rusty handle. Locked. Of course.

"Because nothing can ever be fucking easy," I mutter.

I take a step back and slam my non-wounded shoulder against the wood. Pain explodes through my arm, white-hot and blinding. The door barely rattles.

"Really?" I hiss, shaking out my throbbing arm. "You're gonna make me work for it?"

I lift my boot and drive it hard into the weak spot near the handle. The door shudders but doesn't give.

"Come on, you piece of shit—"

Another kick. The frame splinters, but it's still holding.

I grit my teeth, frustration boiling over.

One more time.

I throw my weight into it, ignoring the sharp, tearing pain in my shoulder.

With a sickening crack, the wood finally gives. The door bursts open, slamming hard against the wall. I stumble forward, breath ragged, heart hammering.

The room is small. Windowless.

Stale air clings to my skin like sweat.

A single bare bulb swings lazily from the ceiling, casting jerky shadows.

A rickety armchair sits in the center, like a prop in a shitty interrogation scene.

I exhale, rolling my shoulder, trying to stay focused.

Then my eyes land on—

Nothing.

Nica’s not here.

“Fuck this!”

The words tear from my throat.

Disappointment slams into me like a freight train. I freeze, gut hollowing out. The hope that had kept me going—burning hot and blinding—is snuffed out like a candle in a storm.

But then—

I hear it again.

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