Page 16 of Us in Ruins

Come on, green belt. Don’t let me down now.

Margot brought her knee to her chest, and when she kicked, foot impacting the statue’s hand, the arrow dropped out of the guardian’s fingers. It hit the floor with enough force to snap it in half. An elated laugh ripped out of her in surprise.

“Oh, my god, did you see that?” Margot asked, but Van had already hiked halfway up the stairwell.

No way was she getting left down here alone. She raced to catch up with him. Margot’s breath burned in her lungs, searing a seam in her waist. A couple too-close-for-comfort arrows sliced past her ears as she took the stairs two at a time.

“There’s no way out,” she said when she met him halfway up. “It locked from the outside.”

This time, he didn’t even bother to shake his head. “There’s always another way.”

“I’m telling you, I didn’t see—”

Van punched a brick in the wall three times. On the third, it slotted into place and the ground overhead shuddered. The ceiling sank closer, but as soon as Margot thought it was going to crush them, it scrolled sideways and inched into a compartment at the top of the wall. Perfectly engineered.

Margot had never been so relieved to see moonlight.

Aboveground, Van stomped on the base of the hollow pillar where Margot had knelt. As she hauled herself to join him (he didn’t even offer his hand), she recognized it now—a niche for lit candles. This empty courtyard must have once been home to a sanctuary for Venus’s followers, a sacred place to gather. A facade for the real temple below the earth. The pressure from Van’s foot triggered the release of the door, and it slammed closed behind them.

Unfortunately, they’d traded stone guardians for security guards.

Flashlight beams bounced around the knoll. All aimed directly at Margot and Van. Beneath the bright lights, Margot could imagine what they looked like. Her in a pair of striped pajamas and a denim jacket, Van straight out of a 1930s L.L.Bean ad, and both of them covered head to toe in a layer of dust so thick, it would take Margot three Everything Showers to scrub it off her skin. There had to be some way for them to make it out of this alive and unhandcuffed.

Margot didn’t think. She just grabbed Van’s hand and pulled him left down the slope of the hill. They plunged into the darkness of the ruins, rubble rising up around them in every direction. At their backs, guards shouted, faint and fading as they raced farther away. What they said, Margot had no idea. Her Italian was limited to Scusi! and spaghetti—the necessities.

Van shook off her grip as soon as his feet hit the ancient pavement. He aimed toward the front entrance, but Margot jerked him by the suspenders—instead heading north toward the necropolis. The sudden change in momentum threw him off-balance, and his arms pinwheeled toward her, just as a flashlight beam cut across them.

Margot landed on top of his chest, squeezing him into the earth. His firm, muscular chest. This close, he smelled like rough leather and stone pine, like long afternoons in the sun. Exactly like she’d imagined.

“Get off of me,” he ordered.

Well, he wasn’t exactly like she’d imagined.

Heat rushed to Margot’s face. She forced herself upright and blew a loose strand of hair out of her face. “Sorry. Just trying to make sure neither of us get arrested tonight.”

Van stood, dusting himself off. “Why would we get arrested?”

“For starters, we’re trespassing.” Margot tucked the rogue curl behind her ear, listening for the guards’ approach. “Pretty sure there’s probably a destruction of property charge in there somewhere. Intention to commit larceny? I mean, we’re basically treasure hunters.”

That was the Legally Blonde era talking, when she’d shadowed a local judge for all of four days.

Evidently, Van wasn’t convinced. He turned the corner toward the front entrance, and Margot rushed to cut him off.

“Don’t,” she said. “Trust me. There are guards everywhere. The Nola Gate is a no-go. Head north until you pass the creepy graveyard. I’ve got a getaway car.”

Van’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. “You can drive?”

“A bunch of statues just tried to kick our ass, and that’s what you’re shocked about?” Unbelievable. Margot shook her head. “I’ll hold the guards off and meet you outside the gate when the coast is clear. I’ve left a yellow Vespa nearby, but wait for me.”

Turning her back on him, Margot settled herself with an inhale. Not far off, she could hear the slap of the guards’ feet against the pathways, the echo of their shouts. She could do this. All the best escapes had a decoy.

Cupping her hands around her mouth, Margot shouted, “I’m over here!”

Behind her, Van asked flatly, “That’s your idea of holding them off?”

Whipping around, Margot’s cheeks burned when she saw Van standing exactly where she’d left him, hands shoved in his pockets and those scrutinizing green eyes trained on her in the pale light. She asked, “Is now the right time to criticize my methods?”

Van crooked his head, appraising her. His expression was unreadable, like he’d buried whatever he might have felt deep beneath the surface and Margot would have to pry it out if she ever wanted to understand him. Then, wordlessly, he tugged a chained compass around his neck up from underneath his shirt and checked his position before turning and heading toward the necropolis.

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