Page 36 of Avidian
“Come in on the south side and stay within the tree line until my signal,” he murmurs, and I stare up at him in confusion.
“Uh, what?”
“It’s my comms,” he explains. “I have a safe house near here where some of my people have been waiting. I told one of my men to stay close tonight in case anything went down.”
We reach the back door, and the freezing air bites at my exposed skin as we step outside. The snow crunches underfoot, icy and slippery, and I instantly regret my choice of shoes.
“I take it wearing boots would’ve been a giveaway if we’re seen,” I mutter, clinging tighter to his forearm for balance.
“You’re quick,” he says with a self-indulgent look on his face.
“Quick enough to know I’m going to break my neck if you keep this pace,” I retort, glaring at him.
He slows slightly, guiding me more steadily as we navigate the slick path.
“Fuck,” Malachi mutters, fiddling with his ear again.
“What?” I ask, glancing up at him.
“He’s not answering. He must not be in range,” he says, frustrated.
“Maybe you’ll reach him better from the stables, especially if he’s on the outskirts of the property,” I suggest, trying to sound optimistic.
In the distance, I can make out the stables, their shadowy outline faintly illuminated by the snow. I glance back at the mansion behind us. Thankfully, the party is on the opposite side of the house, and I don’t see any movement or light from back here.
God, I hope no one sees us. If someone does, we’ll have to play it off. We could always pretend we’re sneaking off to hook up. Malachi already has Gary convinced that’s his goal, so it would probably work. But Marco? He’d... I don’t even want to think about it.
“Stay quiet and stay behind me. If we get caught, run back to your room and make sure no one sees you,” Malachi whispers, not giving me time to object before sliding the large stable door open.
The heavy door creaks slightly as it moves, and we slip inside. The scent of hay and horses fills the space, mingling with the faint tang of manure and wood polish. The overhead lights are on, casting long shadows across the stalls. At least twenty horses peek out from their enclosures, some snorting softly at our presence.
“What now?” I ask as I scan the space.
I half-expect to see some obvious clue—a trapdoor or hidden staircase—but there’s nothing immediately out of place. Rows of pristine stalls and the lingering quiet of the stable.
“He said under the stables, right?” he asks.
I nod, and he starts moving further in, his boots muffled against the hay-strewn floor. “Let’s find out how to get down there.”
I follow closely, scanning the walls and floors for any sign of an entry point. The horses shift in their stalls, their ears twitching as if sensing the tension in the air. My pulse quickens.
“Look over here,” I say, pointing to the floor near the feed bin. The faint scratches across the wood look too deliberate, like the bin’s been moved over and over again.
Malachi steps closer, narrowing his eyes as he examines the marks.
“Stand back,” he says with unnecessary authority.
I roll my eyes, crossing my arms. Men.
He braces himself and pushes the bin aside with a grunt, revealing a small hatch door flush with the floor. No lock, no chain, only a plain metal handle. I guess Viktor trusts that no one would dare be out here doing what we’re doing right now.
Malachi pulls the hatch open, the faint creak of the hinges making my nerves jump. He peers into the dark space below, the faint glow of a single, dim light visible through the opening.
“I’m not waiting here, so don’t even say it,” I snap before he has a chance to speak.
He gives me a disgruntled look, one brow raised like he’s about to argue, but then he shakes his head and grabs the sides of the ladder bolted to the edge of the hatch.
He descends quickly, his movements quiet and deliberate. The moment his boots hit the ground, he glances back up at me, waiting.
