Page 23 of The Big Bad Duke (The Shadows #9)

“Very well. I can circle from the right, and you go left—” she began, but Gideon cut her off.

“No. I am not taking my eyes off you.”

She didn’t protest, though he caught a flash of what might have been annoyance in her dark eyes.

They moved together along the perimeter of the building, and Gideon’s unease deepened when they easily found a point of entry on the ground floor. A window with a broken latch, concealed enough to avoid casual observation yet accessible for someone who knew where to look.

An unguarded house with easy access, despite being in a remote area. Nothing about this felt right.

Every instinct screamed that this was not the place where her brother was kept. If such a brother even existed. If Leila wasn’t simply another weapon in the Cardinal’s arsenal, aimed directly at his heart.

“Will you allow us to split up now?” she whispered once they’d made their way through the broken window and into the dark, empty corridor beyond.

The building’s interior matched its exterior—abandoned, decaying, stripped of anything valuable. The floorboards creaked ominously under their weight, and the air smelled of dust and neglect.

“Not even for a moment,” he grumbled, positioning himself to keep an eye on both her and their surroundings.

They moved through the ground floor methodically, exploring three empty rooms devoid of furniture, decorations, or even wallpaper. Just bare walls and dust motes danced in the pale light filtering through grimy windows.

As Leila stepped toward the fourth room, Gideon caught sight of movement outside—a shadow falling across the broken window through which they had entered. One of the guards was approaching the house.

Gideon grabbed Leila by the arm and pulled her back against the wall, pressing them both into the shadow cast by a support beam. His body covered hers protectively, and he could feel her heart hammering against his chest like a trapped bird.

She was genuinely terrified.

The guard took a few steps into the corridor, then paused, making a curious noise as if he hadn’t found what he expected. Whatever it was, he apparently decided it wasn’t worth investigating further. His footsteps retreated, and Gideon heard the outer door creak shut behind him.

When the danger had passed, Gideon released Leila, and she immediately slumped against the wall as if her legs could no longer support her. Her face was pale, her breathing rapid and shallow.

“You seem relieved we didn’t get caught,” he said, allowing a suspicious tone to seep into his words.

“You thought I wanted that?” She frowned, her expression genuinely offended by the suggestion. But Gideon had learned not to trust appearances where Leila was concerned.

“I truly don’t know what you want.”

She let out a short breath, something between a snort and a laugh. “I see. You still don’t trust me.”

“Have you given me a reason to?” There was no pause for her to answer. Instead, he said, “Let’s go.”

He led her toward the back of the building, where they discovered a wide foyer dominated by a rickety old stairwell leading to the upper floors. The stairs looked like they might collapse under any significant weight, but Gideon doubted there was anything worth finding in the rooms above anyway.

But behind the stairwell, partially concealed by shadow and debris, there was something far more intriguing: a trapdoor set into the floor, secured with a heavy lock that appeared newer and more substantial than anything else in this supposedly abandoned building.

Now that’s more promising.

Gideon glanced at Leila’s carefully braided hair. “Do you happen to have a hairpin?”

She hesitated, then removed her hat and pulled a short hairpin from her braid. It wasn’t essential for her coiffure; it was clearly there for some other purpose entirely.

Gideon pursed his lips to suppress a sardonic smile. Had she started carrying this pin before or after his suggestion during the night of the storm when her carriage had supposedly broken down?

Instead of voicing his curious thoughts, he crouched beside the trapdoor and began working on the lock. The mechanism was of good quality but not beyond his abilities, and within moments, he heard the satisfying click.

He threw open the trapdoor, laying it carefully on the ground to avoid making noise that might attract the guards’ attention. When he peered inside, he was greeted by absolute darkness—a black void that seemed to swallow light itself.

He straightened and gestured toward the opening. “After you.”

But Leila didn’t respond. She stood completely frozen, her eyes wide with what appeared to be genuine terror. Her face had gone chalk white, and her hands trembled visibly.

Fear of the dark? That seemed… unlike her.

She hadn’t seemed afraid of darkness when he’d found her in his room the night of her supposed carriage accident.

“Come,” he said, softening his tone slightly. “Your brother might be there.”

But she shook her head frantically, her pupils dilated with what looked like panic. “I can’t… it’s… that place is too narrow. I can’t go in there.”

Was she afraid of narrow, confined spaces then? Gideon studied her reaction more closely. The terror in her eyes seemed genuine. Her breathing was becoming rapid and shallow, the early signs of panic.

Either she’s an exceptional actress, or this fear is real.

He grabbed her by the shoulders, trying to ground her in the present moment. “Look at me.”

She raised her eyes to his, and he saw the full extent of her distress. Her face contorted in a grimace of horror, and her entire body trembled with barely contained panic. If this was an act, it was a masterful one.

“Fine, I’ll go on my own,” he decided. “But you need to stand guard. If anyone comes closer, throw your hairpin down to let me know, and then hide.”

He pressed her hairpin into her palm. She nodded rapidly, but her breathing was still too fast, and her hands shook.

“Do you understand what I’m telling you?” he asked, needing to be certain she was lucid enough to serve as lookout.

“I do. Yes, I do,” she repeated, nodding to herself as if trying to convince her mind to cooperate.

She was completely out of sorts, which meant Gideon would have to be very quick. If guards arrived while she was in this state, she might not be able to warn him effectively. And if this was all an elaborate trap, he was about to walk directly into it.

He patted Leila on the shoulder to give her comfort—he couldn’t help but feel protective, even if he distrusted her—and lowered himself through the trapdoor into the waiting darkness below.

* * *

The moment Gideon vanished into the darkness below, Leila let out a breath. It wasn’t relief exactly, nor was it excitement, though her heart raced with anticipation and trepidation.

She was a bundle of nervous energy, every nerve ending alive with the knowledge that the next few minutes would determine whether they both lived or died.

But she had planned her next steps during the long ride to this location and had rehearsed them in her mind.

She had been waiting for this part while dreading it in equal measure.

The panic she’d displayed at the sight of the trapdoor hadn’t been entirely an act.

The thought of those narrow, dark spaces still made her skin crawl, bringing back memories of when she’d first been captured by what she now knew to be the Brotherhood of the Crimson Fist. However, it had also served as the perfect cover for what she needed to do next.

So she tapped into that fear and made herself shudder until he left her alone.

Forgive me, Gideon. Bozkutim. I hope you’ll understand eventually.

She stabbed her hairpin into her braid and dashed out of the room, her soft-soled boots making no sound on the rotting floorboards. Every second counted now. The hidden torture rooms downstairs would keep Gideon occupied for some time—just enough for her to execute her plan. Or so she hoped.

As she reached the exterior of the building, the two guards turned around with the slow, unsteady movements of men deep in their cups. She’d counted on this, having observed their habits during her previous visit.

Leila and the Cardinal had stopped here before their arrival in London. She hadn’t lied to Gideon about that. She knew the best way to tell a convincing lie was to surround it with the truth. So she told the truth as much as she could.

This place was used as a torture chamber or a prison, something the Cardinal had shown Leila to subtly hint at what would happen to her if she failed her final assignment. Well, she had other plans for this dreadful place.

“Where’s your gin?” she asked the guards, forcing her voice to remain steady despite the hammering of her heart.

“Who the hell are you?” one of them slurred.

“I am acting on the Cardinal’s orders. I visited this place with him a few weeks ago. Is your memory so feeble?”

The other guard waved toward the wooden crate beside the entry step. He either remembered seeing her here or decided it wasn’t worth the trouble to argue about the gin.

Some guards.

She collected a few bottles despite the first guard’s weak protests.

Gin burned hot and fast—exactly what she needed. Then she looked both men in the eyes, summoning every ounce of authority she’d learned to project.

“You need to go to the Cardinal immediately. Tell him that Leila’s mission is over.” She paused, letting the weight of her words sink in. “In about five minutes, this house will be engulfed in flames, and Wolverstone will be burned within it.”

The guards exchanged a glance, some flicker of sobriety cutting through their alcoholic haze. One of them straightened slightly, his hand moving instinctively toward the knife at his belt.

“Where is he, then? We are not leaving unless we see you do it,” the more sober of the two said.