Page 35 of Blood Heir

One guard snaps his head up. “Did you hear that?”

The other frowns. “Is that…a mouse?”

They start toward my door, walking at first, weapons still holstered, their attention locked on the sound.

I wait, timing it as they get closer. My hand grips the knob tight.

Three steps away.

Two.

Now.

I throw open the door and launch myself into the hallway, voice pitched into full-blown panic. “Help! A rat—a rat in my room!”

Both guards nearly trip over themselves as I flail my arms like some helpless hysteric. “It ran under the dresser! It’s huge!” I gasp, pointing wildly toward the corner of the room.

They rush past me, pushing into the bedroom in a scramble of booted feet and anxious glances. One is already crouching near the dresser, the other scanning the corners.

I turn on my heel and slip away, moving fast but light on my feet, keeping close to the wall.

Down the long staircase, my breath is shallow. My shoes barely make a sound on the polished stone as I descend.

At the bottom, near the rear hallway, I spot a small group of maids making their way toward the changing rooms by the back exit. They chatter softly amongst themselves, completely unaware of me slipping into their wake.

The staff entrance sits wide open ahead—an unassuming plain metal door used for deliveries and employees, tucked behind the kitchen.

Almost there.

I slip through the staff exit and step into the backyard. The early morning air is cool against my skin, the sky barely awake, its dull grey stretched wide above the estate walls. I move quickly across the stone path, aiming for the far perimeter—until a voice halts me.

“Hey. Backyard’s off limits this early.”

Shit.

I turn slowly, fixing my sunglasses in place as my heart knocks once in my chest. A guard stands by the far hedges, one hand resting lazily on his belt. He squints at me, not recognizing who I am—just another staff girl in casual clothes.

I shift my weight, my lips curling into a soft smile as I saunter toward him. My fingers trail up to his shoulder, thenhigher, grazing the side of his neck, feather-light. His breath catches.

“I just wanted a smoke,” I say, voice low, smooth. I let my nails drag gently along the edge of his jaw. “But…I could have other things too.” My smile widens as I lean a little closer.

His expression shifts in a blink—hesitation melts into hunger. His pupils darken, and before I even fully register the stupidity in his eyes, he grabs my waist, pulling me roughly toward the wall. His mouth crashes against mine, sloppy and eager, hands already sliding down my sides.

Wrong move.

I let him pull me in just enough—close, vulnerable. Then my knee snaps up hard.

Direct hit.

He gasps, a broken wheeze erupting from his chest as he doubles over, clutching himself. His legs wobble under him.

“Not today, asshole,” I mutter, pushing him backward into the stone wall.

As he stumbles, I catch movement from the corner of my eye—a narrow break in the hedge. A door. Metal, old but reinforced, partially hidden behind creeping ivy. My heartbeat kicks up again.

While the idiot’s still groaning, I plant my foot on his shoulder and shove him down flat onto the ground. His head thumps against the gravel. He wheezes again, curling on his side.

“Key,” I demand, standing above him. “Do you have it?”

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