Page 68 of Lock

“And?”

“And he saw me.”

That was it. Apparently, that answered whatever question he’d had.

Okay. I filed that away for later.

The next hallway felt different the second we stepped into it.

The lights were dimmer. The doors were heavier. Some had keypads. Some just had a small red mark painted near the handle—nothing fancy, just enough to notice if you were paying attention.

Ember slowed. “Don’t open any door with a red mark.”

“What’s behind them?”

She shrugged like it wasn’t worth thinking about. “Doesn’t matter.”

“That’s… comforting.”

“If you’re meant to be there,” she added, “someone will bring you.”

“And if I’m not?”

She shot me a look. “Then you don’t want to be.”

Fair enough.

Halfway down the hall, a door opened and a man stepped out so suddenly I almost walked straight into him.

He was tall. Broad. All scars and solid muscle. He didn’t raise his voice or puff up or do anything dramatic—he didn’t have to. The space just… shifted around him.

I knew who he was without knowing his name.

Some people carried reputation like a second skin.

His eyes dropped to the cut I was wearing.

My body locked up before my brain could catch up.

Then he nodded. Once. To Ember.

“Morning,” he said.

“Morning,” she replied.

His gaze flicked to me—quick, sharp, already done—and then he stepped aside to let us pass like this was the most normal thing in the world.

I waited until we were a few steps away. “That was… him, right?”

“Yeah,” Ember said. “Grim.”

“He didn’t?—”

“Threaten you?” Her mouth tipped faintly. “No. He won’t.”

“Unless?”

“Unless you give him a reason.”