Page 111 of Ghosts of the Dead

Luna is still missing.

The fire roars, consuming everything in its path. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t the plan, but now we’re here, and I’m the one who caused it.

My explosive. My fault. My responsibility to get everyone out.

I unlock the final cage and help the last woman to her feet. She’s barely conscious and her body is thin and bruised. The fire has nearly reached us, and the smoke makes it almost impossible to see.

“We need to go.” Jace appears at my side, his arm wrapping around my waist. “Now, Autumn.”

There’s another boom upstairs, like something is collapsing. I look back at the flames consuming the basement. The evidence of what happened here. The names, the papers, everything that could have told us more about what happened to Summer. All gone, and burning away.

All the captives are out now, and that’s what matters.

The smoke swallows us as we run, and somewhere in the distance, I hear Luna’s bark. At least she’s already up the stairs.

41

JACE

The smoke is thicker now. It curls up the walls and crawls through the cracks, licking at the ceiling with hunger. The acrid chemical stench from Autumn’s explosive mixes with the smell of burning wood and fabric, creating a toxic cloud that stings my eyes and scorches my lungs.

I pull my shirt over my mouth and squint through the haze as I guide Autumn toward the stairs. My arm is like a steel band around her waist, keeping her close while we navigate through the chaos of the large basement.

“The stairs are our only way out,” I say, shouting to be heard over the roar of the flames. Mars had scoped the place when we first got here and found a door as a possible exit, but when I tried it, it had been sealed with bricks on the other side.

Bodies push past us, the newly freed captives stumbling half-dazed toward their newfound freedom. Caspian shepherds them forward while Mars handles the rear guard, keeping the rotters at bay.

Through the pandemonium, my eyes lock on something else. The papers. The ones stamped G.L. that are now ablaze where Autumn’s explosive detonated. The flames devourthem rapidly, and with them, any chance of understanding what Summer went through.

Autumn deserves those answers, and I doubt the brothers will give them. Especially the one with the gum. What an annoying little fuck.

Mars’s shouts carry through the basement while he leads the charge, holding back the rotters at the other end of the space. The fire is causing them to go into a frenzy, their movements more erratic, more desperate.

We reach the base of the stairs. Women stumble upward, coughing and supporting each other. I push Autumn ahead of me, toward the next step, hoping she’ll get lost in the crowd and stay safe. Instead, she turns back. “Jace, come on.”

I look behind me at the burning room. Those papers are the only lead we have on Genesis Labs. The only concrete evidence that might explain what happened to Summer…and if Autumn is in danger of being taken next. The coordinates, the contacts, the why of it all.

Without thinking, I cup Autumn’s face in my hands and kiss her hard. It’s quick, but it’s fierce. When I pull back, her eyes hold questions I won’t let her ask.

“Go,” I tell her, pushing her to the next step. “I’m right behind you.”

She hesitates, but another wave of people pushing upward forces her to move. “Jace?—”

“Go,” I urge. “I’ll be right there.”

The moment she turns, I spin back and dive into the thickening smoke. I don’t think. I move. Because Autumn needs those answers. She needs to know why, what, and who’s behind it. She needs something solid in the middle of all this burning wreckage that’s become her life.

My hand presses harder against the cloth over my mouth while I run back through the corridor. I snatch up the nearest stack of papers and flip through with a shakyhand. Names. Codes. Half-burned ledgers. The G.L. stamp again.

Genesis Labs.

I can barely breathe through the cloth. The papers slip in my grasp, but I keep flipping. One more answer. I can get it for her.

The flames crawl closer. They lick at the stacks of papers around me, consuming the wooden crates full of evidence. I reach out and grab another bundle, using the flames as my light despite the thickening smoke. The fire bites at my sleeve, scorching the edge of my shirt. I slap it down, but the heat flashes up again, faster this time.

Shit.

I crouch lower and crawl under the smoke, reaching for the last untouched stack shoved behind a crate. I yank it free. The edges crumble in my hands.

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