Heart's Price (MxM)

Chapter 53

With the quick grace of a dancer, Ambrose lunges and catches me, arresting my fall.

I blink up at him, my astonishment mirroring his own as he pulls me back to my feet.

"Alright, little wolf?" he asks, eyes searching mine.

I nod, hands still bunched in the front of his shirt as I cling to him. With an effort, I make myself take a breath and let go.

"Yes, I'm fine," I assure him. "But I guess you weren't kidding about those hidden doors and secret passageways, huh?"

Together, we turn and inspect the opening that had appeared at my back.

It's a small, rectangular portion of wall, which had detached from the rest and swung inward on silent hinges, revealing a patch of darkness beyond.

"No, I wasn't," he agrees. "Though I admit I did not expect the full cliché."

Freeing myself from his grasp, I retrieve the flashlight from where it had fallen in our excitement and turn it on the unexpected doorway.

Stepping through, I see that the 'passageway' is simply the space between walls, barely two-feet wide, but extending in either direction into the dark. Exposed crossbeams and plain wood panels, thick with dust, are revealed beneath the flashlight's unforgivingly bright beam.

The cold, stale air within is sour with the bite of age and a hint of decay, as of small, dead things, and I suppress a sneeze in the crook of my arm.

"Noah, love," Ambrose says, resting a hand on my lower back, "let's leave it for now. We're neither of us in top form at the moment, and it's going nowhere. We'll have your brother here in the morning, and do a proper search."

"It's Freya we'll want," I comment, scrubbing at my itchy nose with my sleeve. "She's the tracker."

"We'll have them both, then," he agrees, "and tear the place up—top to bottom—if we have to. Whatever secrets this place is hiding, we'll find them."

He keeps a hold on me as he speaks, as though he thinks I'll bolt off into the dark if he lets go. He's overestimating my sense of adventure, if he does.

"I just want to check something," I say, and point to my right. "This is August's room, isn't it?"

He nods and, reluctantly, releases me as I step into the narrow passageway and move down it a few feet, running my fingers over the inside wall.

Almost immediately, I find what I'm looking for: a tiny hole, barely larger than what might be left by a thin nail, at about eye level.

Leaning close, I peer through and can just make out a portion of August's darkened room on the other side. August himself lies draped across his bed, face down, with one arm hanging free and his fingers loosely wrapped about the neck of a bottle. It's no wonder he hadn't been disturbed by all the noise we'd made.

Moving a few feet further along the passageway, I find more holes, each offering a view of a different slice of the room. They'd be virtually invisible against the darkly patterned wallpaper on the other side, and I shudder as I realize they're likely in every room—including Ambrose's own.

The thought of someone watching us sleep—or not sleep—makes me shudder, and I can't help wondering if I'll ever feel safe in this house again.

Ambrose has followed me and now stands at the first hole I'd found, and I hear him swear under his breath.

"Fuck. From here the thief would have seen exactly where August hid his relic." He sighs. "And I brought them here, thinking it was safe."