Page 9

The corridor ended at what looked like a bank vault door—gleaming steel with a digital keypad mounted beside it, which stuck out like a smartphone at a Victorian tea party against the aged wallpaper. What the fuck was in the basement, and why did it have a state-of-the-art security system?

Sebastián tapped in a code lightning quick. The keypad chirped, a green light flashed, and the massive door released with a pneumatic hiss.

“After you.” He gestured toward the darkness beyond.

My feet refused to move. “You know what? I think I’ll pass.”

“Flynn.” His voice softened. “I promise you’re safe.”

Right. Because following a stranger into a basement was the epitome of safety. Every horror film ever made screamed at me to run.

Sebastián waited, patient and still, while my mind conjured increasingly gruesome scenarios. A dungeon filled with torture devices. A blood-spattered operating theatre. Chains dangling from ceiling hooks, ready to—

“I can hear you catastrophizing from here.”

Heat crept up my neck. “I’m not—”

“You are.” He stepped through the doorway first, flicking a switch. Fluorescent lights flickered to life, illuminating a concrete stairwell descending into the bowels of the hotel. “Better?”

I stared at him, my feet glued to the floor.

“We can keep this door open,” he said. “There’s a brick around here somewhere…”

He located said brick, wedging it in the doorframe. Then he descended without looking back.

Last chance to run.

I pressed my hand against my icy chest, resigned myself to my fate, and followed him downwards.

The air grew cooler as we descended, raising goosebumps along my arms. The stairwell opened into a vast underground space.

More fluorescent tubes buzzed overhead, casting harsh shadows.

Computer monitors lined one wall, their screens displaying various camera feeds, some of which I recognised from the walk here.

A large table dominated the centre of the room, covered in maps and papers.

Curious.

There was a notable lack of a metal examination table with thick leather restraints, so I crept into the middle of the room, wrapping my arms around myself.

“What is this place?”

“Our command centre.”

Just as I was about to question “our,” thundering footsteps echoed down the stairwell, accompanied by shrieks of laughter.

Two people burst into the space—a smaller pale bloke with chaotic blond hair and more ear piercings than I could count, followed by a striking woman in a vibrant purple dress, her long dark plait swinging as she chased him .

They skidded to a halt when they spotted me. The woman’s hand flew to a pendant at her throat, while the guy’s eyes went comically wide.

“Seb!” His voice splintered with disbelief. “What the actual fuck?”

“This is Flynn Carter,” Sebastián said, as if that explained everything.

The woman stepped forward, her rich brown skin glowing under the harsh lights. A small tattoo peeked out from beneath her sleeve as she tilted her head, studying me with intelligent eyes. “The one from last night?”

Sebastián tossed his paper bag onto the table. The smell of fresh sourdough filled the room, and both newcomers pounced on it like they hadn’t eaten in days. The blond one actually ripped the bag apart, sending paper flying.

“Oi, save some for me!” The woman elbowed him aside, grabbing for a chunk of bread.

“You had the last muffin earlier!” He shoved some into his mouth, speaking around it. “Besides, I deserve this after that thing with the—”

“If you mention that one more time—”

“It was literally massive! Like, the size of a Range Rover!”

I’d been completely forgotten. Almost hilariously so. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

They squabbled over the sourdough, weighing up how much they could eat before someone called Kit arrived to take it all for himself.

And I stood there, ignored, feeling like I’d somehow stumbled into a very strange dream. Sebastián pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath.

“It was a labrador, Rory.”

“A possessed labrador! That thing was proper demonic!”

A loud clatter broke through their bickering.

I spun around to find another dude frozen in the doorway.

He looked like he could be Korean, or partially at least. A puddle of liquid spread around his feet from a dropped energy drink.

His oversized hoodie swallowed his frame.

Dark eyes darted between me and the others.

“Felix!” Rory said brightly. “Want some bread? Hopefully no. ”

Felix’s mouth opened and closed without sound. His eyebrows drew together in what looked like rising panic.

Because it seemed like nobody else was going to move, and because I didn’t want to keep standing there like a lemon, I crossed the room and scooped up Felix’s can, pressing it back into his hands.

“I… um… thanks.” His voice was barely above a whisper as he scratched the back of his neck.

Rory sniggered for a second before clearing his throat.

The woman in purple stepped forward, extending her hand with a warm smile.

“I’m Priya. I’m sorry about everyone else—they haven’t been properly socialised.

” Her handshake was firm, the faintest scent of lavender following her.

As I tried to withdraw my hand, she twisted it, bringing my palm towards her face.

Her dark eyes traced the lines etched across my skin with intense focus.

“Well, that’s rather unexpected. Have you ever had your palm read? These life lines suggest—”

“Right, that’s enough.” Sebastián’s command caused Priya to drop my palm before she could announce whatever fate she’d seen written there.

Thank the stars. I didn’t want to know my future.

“Don’t you all have work to do? But first, Priya, can you bring Flynn one of your chamomile teas? As soon as possible, please.”

“The kettle’s already boiled, so it’ll be just a sec!” she said brightly, skipping up the stairs.

The other two also vanished somewhere, and Sebastián guided me to a corner of the basement, where an L-shaped burgundy sofa wrapped around a scarred coffee table, creating a makeshift living area. I perched on the end of the sofa while he slung his massive coat on a hook.

A sleek coffee machine sat on a sidebar. Someone had taped a note to it reading “OUT OF ORDER (Kit, stop trying to fix it, nobody wants you to)” with several angry faces drawn underneath.

I gestured to the note. “So… Kit’s not great with repairs then?”

Sebastián’s lips twitched. “Oh, he’s not bad at all, actually.

He served in the military for a couple of years and picked up many handy skills.

It’s that the others don’t want it fixed.

They like the excuse to go to that coffee shop on Killigrew Street we just passed. Kit claims it’s ‘highway robbery.’”

I found myself grinning, despite everything. “My mum says the exact same. Says she can buy a whole jar of coffee.”

Sebastián laughed—a rich, velvety sound that seemed to chase away some of the basement’s chill. He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Don’t tell Kit this, but after the last time he fixed it, Rory snuck down in the middle of the night and attacked it with a butter knife.”

The mental image made me snort. “Seriously?”

“Felix caught him on the security cameras. He was wearing all black, an official coffee machine saboteur.” Sebastián’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “We have the footage saved somewhere. For leverage.”

As I sank back, the sofa cushions molded perfectly to my body, and I felt…

almost cozy. Like I’d walked into someone’s slightly chaotic family home rather than a secret underground lair.

My shoulders began to unknot, even as my brain screamed that this was definitely how horror films started—luring you into a false sense of security before the chainsaws came out.

“Dedication to the cause. I like Rory’s style. ”

Priya burst back into the basement like a whirlwind of purple fabric and jangling bracelets, a steaming mug clutched between her hands. The scent of chamomile and something sweeter—honey, maybe?—wafted toward me.

“Here you go.” She pressed the warm ceramic into my palms. “My own special blend. This will make you feel amazing,” she tossed over her shoulder, already heading back towards the stairs.

My fingers curled around the mug gratefully, the heat seeping into my skin as I inhaled the aromatic steam. When I took a sip, warmth bloomed across my tongue, spreading through my chest like liquid sunshine, chasing away the last lingering traces of that horrid ice in my chest.

I looked pointedly at Sebastián, waiting for him to start talking.

As if finally preparing to get down to business, he cleared his throat and began rolling up the sleeves of his crisp white dress shirt.

The fabric was so perfectly pressed, each fold created sharp lines as he worked methodically up his arms.

My mouth went dry.

The movement revealed rather lovely tanned forearms corded with muscle.

Thick veins traced paths beneath his skin, rising and falling over prominent tendons that flexed as his fingers worked each precise fold.

A light dusting of dark hair highlighted the sculptural quality of his arms—like something carved from bronze, all clean lines and sharp angles.

Christ. What was in this tea? I forced my gaze away, though the image had already burned itself into my brain. The room abruptly felt far too hot.

“So,” Sebastián said, settling further into the armchair opposite me. He ran his hand down the length of his tie. “I’m sure you’re thinking, ‘What exactly is this strange establishment I find myself in?’”

Actually, I was fantasising about licking your forearms while simultaneously sort of still pondering if I’m going to die, but sure, let’s go with that.

“Sure.”