Page 6 of The Last Strike

A smile spread across Reed’s lips and he almost laughed. The voice had spoken in the Adani language, but that was not the voice of King Khalil. It was the voice of King Asher, but Reed knew no one in the palace would ask who the voice belonged to when it boomed with such authority.

Reed heard scurrying feet and knew the plan was working. The soldiers would remain in the basement, and everyone else would move there—or to the subsequent basements—making for crowded and confused groups of people.

“Move when you can,” James said.

Reed crept forward in time to see two women, most likely servants, running out of the room. When a third one ran past him, he inhaled sharply. He saw her face—only for a split second—but that was enough.

“Grace!”James exclaimed.

Aunty Grace, the evil-minded woman who had sided with Adani to take Santina down.

“Let her go. We’ll deal with her later. Focus on getting out,”James commanded.

“Copy,” Reed said, even though his feet were itching to follow her.

Reed was moving toward the door when realization hit him. Two servants had run out before Grace, and now he’d entered a bedroom. His eyes swept over it, landing on the adjoining room.

He moved toward it.

“Reed,”James said, his tone an urgent reminder of the imminent danger he was in.

“Five seconds,” Reed said as he slowly turned the doorknob, and inched open the door. It was a closet. Reed scanned between the clothes but couldn’t see any threat. He moved inside.

He had no way of immediately knowing for sure if this hunch was right. But something held him there, unable to walk away. Gut instinct.

Reed ran to the drawers and searched them.

Nothing.

He moved to the next row.

Nothing.

“Come on,” Reed said under his breath. He didn’t know what he was looking for, but he couldn’t leave.

“Reed, you need to move!”James said.

“Copy,” Reed said, but he didn’t take a step because his eyes landed on the back of the panel of a drawer, which was leaning at an odd angle. Reed reached forward, pulling it, and he soon saw why. It was full of maps.

Reed shuffled them through his hands.

Maps of every Kingdom, and they were numbered.

Santina was number one.

Reed tucked them into his kit and quickly searched the remaining drawers, but the gut instinct that had held him there was gone.

“Soldier, what is your identification number?” a voice asked from behind him and Reed felt the unmistakable press of metal against the back of his head.

Reed silently cursed the fluffy carpet that had masked the sound of the soldier’s footsteps.

He looked into the small mirror on the chest of drawers. He could only see one soldier behind him, but it was a small mirror and there could be many more. Reed weighed his options but there only seemed to be two: fight or surrender.

“Lower your weapon,” the soldier said, but Reed wasn’t holding one—he’d put it down to pick up the maps and shuffle through them.

Reed held up his empty hands and the soldier took a step toward him.

Reed spun around and slammed his fist into the man’s forearms, knocking the pistol from his hands. He hadn’t anticipated Reed could move so fast, and that would be his downfall.

---