Page 96 of Blood Heir

“Cassian,” I breathe. My voice lowers as I tilt my head upward. “Look.”

In the far corner near the ceiling—barely noticeable—thin slats cut into a metal square. An air vent. Narrow, but it’s there.

“No,” Cassian croaks beside me, his voice a broken whisper. “No, I’m not going into an air vent. There’s mice in there. I hate mice.”

I don’t answer him. I grip the edge of the vent and hoist myself up. The jagged metal bites into my fingers as I squeeze my bruised body into the narrow shaft. My ribs scream. My back burns where Gustavo’s whip split skin. But I push forward.

“Cassian,” I call, voice echoing in the vent, “get your ass up here.”

“This is how I die,” he mutters behind me, but I hear his grunt as he forces himself into the crawlspace.

The vent is tight. My shoulders scrape against the metal walls with every breath. The stale air tastes of dust and rust. My elbows drag along the bottom, metal cutting into my skin, but I keep moving forward, ignoring the ache. Cassian groans behind me like a dying animal.

“This is fucking horrible,” he whines. “Why is it always me? We could’ve died like men, you know? No rodents. No tiny tunnels.”

“Keep moving,” I snap.

Something skitters above us. Cassian lets out a muffled yelp. “That was a mouse, Serevin. I swear to God. I felt it brush my hair.”

I grind my teeth, dragging myself forward as my stomach twists with every movement. The vent creaks beneath our weight, groaning louder the farther we go. Metal flexes, bending slightly.

“Don’t stop,” I growl.

Cassian mutters curses under his breath, his palms slapping against the vent as he crawls after me.

Suddenly, there’s a sharp metallic crack behind me. I freeze. Cassian gasps. The vent shifts beneath him.

“No, no—”

CRASH.

The vent beneath Cassian gives out completely. A jagged tear opens, and he drops straight through it. The metal screams as it rips open like paper.

“Shit!” I curse, my voice echoing.

I don’t think. I just move. I shift back, slide my legs into the gap and drop after him, landing hard on my side. My shoulder screams as I hit the ground, rolling over into a low crouch. My pulse spikes.

We’ve fallen straight into a private chamber.

In front of us, Gustavo freezes, lips still pressed against a half-dressed woman tangled beneath him on a leather couch. His shirt’s half-open, pants loose, a wine glass perched dangerously on the table nearby.

Cassian mutters beside me, “Well. Shit.”

Gustavo’s eyes snap wide in recognition and then fury. His face flushes a deep red.

“Guards!” he screams, voice shrill with panic.

I’m already moving, grabbing Cassian’s collar and yanking him to his feet as the bedroom door bursts open.

“Run!” I snarl, dragging him with me toward the exit.

I bolt down the hall, dragging Cassian behind me, my bare feet pounding against the floors. But the guards pour in too fast, a wall of men in black, guns raised.

“Shit—” Cassian huffs beside me.

Two men rush from the left corridor. I throw a wild punch at the first, my fist cracking into his jaw, sending him stumbling into the wall. Cassian tackles the second, driving his shoulder into the man’s gut and slamming him into a cabinet. But they keep coming.

An arm hooks around my neck from behind. My windpipe compresses. I claw at the forearm cutting off my air and ram my elbow backwards into ribs until I hear a sharp grunt. The hold loosens, but not enough.

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