Page 47 of Salem’s Fall (Dark Seasons Thriller #3)

T he underground chamber plunges into chaos as the candles at the altar flare dangerously, flames shooting up in a torrent of fire like the wicks have been doused in gasoline.

The heat is sudden, blistering. The entire place erupts into screams as the flames climb the walls and race along the floor, licking the stone like a ravenous creature unleashed, igniting robes and hoods of the masked Veil men standing all around me.

All hell breaks loose as the men shove and trip over one another, desperate to escape the sudden blaze.

I watch in horror as one man behind me is engulfed in flames and stumbles forward, his hands clawing at his face, writhing in agony as the fire consumes him.

He collapses to the ground, his screams echoing, piercing and guttural.

Skin blackens then blisters under the relentless heat before he finally collapses in a smoldering heap, his body charred and lifeless.

The acrid smell of burning flesh and fabric invades my senses, turning my stomach.

I pull Maddie close, shielding her from the sight, but I can’t unsee it—the twisted, blackened remains of what was once a person.

Thick, acrid haze fills the air, burning my throat as I struggle to see through the frenzy.

Amid the shifting smoke, I spot Lucien. His face is illuminated by the raging fire, twisted in something close to satisfaction.

His arms lift dramatically, his voice booming as he calls for order, demanding the Veil members calm down, but the gleam in his eyes betrays him.

He’s reveling in this. He wanted this destruction.

And then, suddenly, he’s beside me.

A flash of silver—a blade raised high above Maddie. Fear slams into me, sharp and paralyzing, and I cry out. For a terrible second, I think he’s going to strike her down. But then, with a flick of his wrist, the knife slices through her bindings. He grabs me and shoves me roughly toward Damien.

“Get them out of here!” he orders his brother.

Damien hesitates, his brows furrowing. “But the knife?—”

Lucien doesn’t even pause. He seizes a masked man at random—one scrambling to escape the flames—and, with ruthless precision, plunges the blade straight into his heart. The man gasps, a wet, choked sound, eyes wide with shock. Lucien yanks the knife free and shoves the dying man into the fire.

“It’s done.” His voice is eerily calm as he drags the blade across the sole of his shoe, smearing away the blood in one deliberate stroke. “The Veil has its sacrifice. Now go.”

I hesitate, disoriented, heart hammering, mind racing. This has to be a trick. Lucien doesn’t save people. He doesn’t do mercy. But Damien wastes no time. His arm hooks around my waist, anchoring me to his side.

“Thank you,” he whispers to his brother.

For a fleeting moment, something shifts in Lucien’s expression.

A crack in his cold indifference, a flicker of something almost like regret.

But it’s gone in a breath, his mask snapping back into place.

“Leave,” he hisses, his words barely audible over the roar of the flames. “Before I change my mind.”

Lucien waves us toward the shadowy doorway I entered earlier, his presence still crackling with danger, even as he grants us our escape .

Damien takes off, gripping my hand tightly as I reach back and pull Maddie with the other, her hand clammy and trembling in mine.

We weave through the frantic crowd, dodging bodies as the fire blazes around us.

Heat scorches my skin and I cough, eyes streaming, as we slip back into the cold, shadowy tunnel.

Behind me, I can still hear Lucien barking commands, trying to control the madness, but his words are lost in the sea of screams.

The smell of earth and stone fills my lungs, blissfully replacing the choking smoke from the chamber.

The dampness inside chills me to the bone, pressing in from all sides, amplifying every sound and every heartbeat that pounds against my ribs.

Damien’s hand tightens around mine, grounding me, steadying me in the dark, twisting tunnel.

Maddie clings to me, her breathing fast and shallow beside me.

The tunnel stretches longer than I remember, each twist and turn identical to the last. A part of me fears we’re only going deeper, that this endless maze will swallow us whole, but Damien’s steps are confident, purposeful.

I force myself to trust him and focus only on the warmth of his hand, on the rhythmic squeeze of his fingers.

Finally, a faint sliver of light appears up ahead.

Damien quickens his pace, leading us through the narrow passage and into the cool night.

I gasp, the fresh air filling my lungs in sharp relief as we emerge into a secluded clearing near the edge of Strega’s Hollow.

Nearby, a sleek black Lamborghini sports car waits by the fence line.

Damien unlocks the doors with a flick of his wrist, gesturing for Maddie to take the back seat.

She scrambles in, exhausted but alive, and I slide in next to her.

“I knew you’d come for me, Jamie!” She lets out a sob, shaking in my arms as Damien fires up the engine. “No matter how scared I got, I just… I knew it. ”

“I’ll always come for you.” I hold her tight against me. “It’s going to be okay now, Mads. I promise.”

Damien is silent as we speed through the gates and down the narrow, winding road. Trees blur. Every twist of the road tightens the grip of fear in my chest. I imagine each passing shadow is one of the Veil, still after us, unwilling to let us go free.

“Where are we going?” I glance at Damien, still trying to catch my breath.

“Blackthorn Manor,” he says, his gaze focused on the road ahead as we weave through the darkened streets.

I stare at him, incredulous. He can’t be serious.

“We need to get out of Salem’s Fall,” I say. “We have to get as far away as possible, somewhere they can never find us.”

“Trust me.” A hint of that familiar, infuriating cockiness returns in the curve of his mouth. “Blackthorn Manor’s the safest place we can be right now.”

“You keep asking me to trust you, but how am I supposed to do that when you’re always hiding things from me?” I owe him my life—again—but that doesn’t erase the fact that he’s still keeping secrets.

“Not now,” Damien says tightly.

“Now is the only time we have,” I shoot back. “Because once we’re there, who knows what you’ll say—or hide—next.” I fix my eyes on him. “I found Mark’s access card at Blackthorn Manor. And Vivienne’s missing engagement ring. Why do you have them?”

His jaw tightens. “You shouldn’t be going through my things.”

I let out a sharp laugh. “I wasn’t snooping!

” I snap. “I just—found them.” My frustration boils over as I remember exactly where they were.

He’s the one who hid my things in the first place.

And now he’s mad at me? “They were right next to my cell phone and laptop. You know, the ones you took and hid from me?”

For a long moment, he says nothing. His grip on the wheel tightens, knuckles flexing, but his face remains maddeningly calm.

“James, I’m not always going to do things I can explain—or want to,” he says. “Either you trust me and how I feel about you, or you don’t.”

I lean back, tension still thrumming beneath my skin.

As frustrating as it is to be kept from the full truth, especially for someone like me, there’s something in his tone—an unwavering certainty, a quiet force—that makes me second guess myself and my need to always know everything.

Besides, haven’t I learned my lesson tonight?

I almost died. Maddie too. And Damien… he threw himself into the fire—literally—for us. It was so close. Too close. If I’d just listened to him, none of this would’ve happened.

I know he’s not innocent. There was the staged attack my first night in Salem’s Fall.

Not to mention the whole drugging-my-wine-at-dinner and Mark’s stolen access card.

After finding that card, I feel certain Damien knows far more about Mark’s “accidental” death than he’s let on.

And there’s Vivienne’s missing ring too.

And a thousand other unanswered questions, all adding up to something I’m not sure I really want to know.

But… I do believe Damien about one thing.

Whatever he’s guilty of, it isn’t killing the women he loves. And as twisted and morally gray as his actions have been, I know it was only meant to protect me.

The exhaustion of the night presses down on me, draining any remaining argument. Maybe, just this once, I don’t have to fight him. If he says Blackthorn Manor is safe, perhaps I should listen. At the very least, it’s safer than being out in the open.

As we pull onto the winding driveway of the compound and the towering gates close behind us, a strange sense of calm settles over me that I can’t explain.

There’s an unspoken power surrounding this place, something ancient and steady that feels almost protective.

It’s like stepping into a protective bubble, sealed off from the chaos and fear that has chased us all night.

For the first time this evening, my pulse slows, my breathing evening out as we near the main house.

And then, I spot Lucky.

He sits on the front doorsteps, his golden eyes catching the light as he watches us pull up. His black lips tilt up, almost like a smile.

A rush of emotion surges through me, warm and overwhelming, and I race over to the cat as soon as Damien puts the car in park. “Lucky!” I murmur, bending down to scoop him up into my arms.

He presses his furry little head against my chin, purring loudly, a steady vibration that seems to echo my own relief.

It’s as if he’s been watching over me all along, guiding me to this very moment, and now—finally—he’s returned to let me know I’m safe again.

I hug him tighter, savoring the warmth of his small body against my chest.