Chapter 14 · Don't Trust Him

The breathing stopped the second Ronan stepped in front of me.

Not slowed. Stopped.

His arm locked across my chest, hard enough that I felt every muscle in it. Blood still ran down my hand and dripped off my fingers onto the black marble floor.

“Ronan,” I whispered.

“Stay behind me.”

“Cute idea. Move.”

“No.” His voice had gone low and rough. Not human-low. The kind that made the tiny hairs on my arms stand straight up.

Behind us, Vera laughed once. It came out thin.

“Oh, this is getting interesting.”

I looked over Ronan’s shoulder. Vera stood near the open wall with two of her men. Her expensive cream dress looked untouched by the chaos, except for one red dot on the hem where my blood had splashed.

She kept staring at the hidden room.

Not at me.

At the room.

That scared me more than the knife had.

“Who’s in there?” I asked.

Nobody answered.

The dark beyond the wall looked too deep for the space it had opened from. One second there had been solid stone. Now there was a narrow old room cut into the estate’s east wing, maybe eight feet wide. Dusty shelves. A desk.