Page 67 of Claimed by the Fallen
“They are safe. Now, come. My master is most anxious to meetyou.”
I don’t move. “I want to see my parentsfirst.”
His grin wobbles, but he manages to keep it in place. “You will see them once you speak with mymaster.”
“No.” I brace myself, waiting for the repercussions to my stubbornness. “I will meet with your master, but I want to see that my parents areokay.”
Now, his grin falls into a disapproving frown. Prepared for an argument, I’m taken aback when he grumbles, “Very well. This way.” He pivots on his heel and walks towards the dark recesses of the building. I only hesitate for a second before I am jogging after him, trying to keep up with his fastpace.
I slow once I catch up to him. We are winding in between tall shelves, empty of contents. Suddenly, I have the feeling of being watched. I look to the side and gasp when I see a pair of glowy, red eyes looking back at me through twoshelves.
“What isit?”
Not realizing my escort has stopped, I run into his back. I immediately stumble away. “Sorry.”
The man ignores my apology. “Why did yougasp?”
I gesture towards the shelves, but the red eyes are gone. Did I imaginethem?
I feel the weight of the man’s stare. I swallow and say, “Nothing. Sorry. I think it was a rat.” It’s the best lie I can come upwith.
The man mutters something unintelligible before turning back and resuming his fast pace. I still feel like I’m being watched, but I refuse to look anywhere but at the man’sback.
We exit the maze of shelves and I see a thick, glass wall. Inside, I recognize my mom’s disheveled blonde hair. She looks tired but unharmed. My gaze swings to my father, and I’m more worried when I see the large, purple bruise underneath one of his eyes. Both of them are tied to achair.
“Mom! Dad!” I take offrunning.
With the speed of lightening, the stranger’s arm snaps out and grabs ahold of mybicep.
I try to pull away, but his grip is strong. “What are you doing? Let mego.”
“You said you wanted to see your parents. Well, you saw them. Now it’s time to meet mymaster.”
“That’s not what I meant,” I object, but he’s already leading me to the left and away from the glass wall holding my parents. “I want to speak with my mom and dadfirst!”
“There’s plenty of time for that later. We’re almost late, and my master isn’t fond of tardiness.” I detect unease in his gruff voice, but I don’t care. Again, I attempt to free myself, but his hold is much stronger than I am. I don’t have a choice, I am going to meet his master whether I like it ornot.
Twenty-Four
My escort drags me away.I stop fighting him when we start climbing a set of rusty, rickety stairs. I’m nervous the structure will crumble from the slightest movement. I don’t have time to feel relieved when we reach the landing. The grip on my arm tightens as we approach a single, wooden door in front of a small, rectangular room. It looks like the office of one of the warehouse’s previousmanagers.
I dig in my heels. “Wait. Give me a second.” I need to gather my thoughts. I wasn’t expecting to meet the individual responsible for my parents’ abduction in such a small space. There will be nowhere for me to run if things go bad. I need aplan.
Unfortunately, my escort doesn’t heed my request. I’m yanked forward. He opens the door and shoves me inside. I stumble for balance and end up pressing my hands against the wall in front of me to steady myself. The door closes, and I whirl around, pressing my back into the solid surface. My eyes land on my escort. He is standing in front of the door, bent over into abow.
“Master,” he utters with reverence. “I bring you VeronicaMessenger.”
I can feel my heartbeat banging against my sternum. My palms are flat on the wall, and I wish I could dig my nails into the surface. I should look to see who the guy is talking to, but I’m frozen with fear. The voice in my head, which hated this plan from the start, is screaming at me to make a run forit.
“Excellent,” a smooth baritone murmurs. The sound is soothing. “Well done,Charles.”
“Thank you, Master.” The man—Charles—is still bowed over and facing hisfeet.
I wonder why he hasn’t risen yet when I hear his master say, “Rise.”
My escort complies. Though, he keeps his forehead tipped slightly forward, training his gaze below eyelevel.
One thousand thoughts are pounding against my skull. My eyes travel to the wall behind the subservient man, and I note an elaborate landscape painting is hanging against freshly painted walls. When I inhale, I can smell the uniquefumes.
