Shadows of the Night | BOOK 2 DRAFT

37

37.

There's a beat of silence before either of us moves. My eyes dart to the window. I can only see the tips of the trees which means we're on the top floor of the castle. A window escape is a possible death sentence. Malik inches forward. I step back, bumping the bedside table and rattling the glass vase atop it. There's a bed between me and the door, and three flights of stairs keeping me from getting outside. But it doesn't matter, it's my only option.

I look back at Malik, he's watching me closely, poised forward in a way that means he's ready for me to strike.

"Milena—"

I grip the vase of water, swing it around, and throw it at him. Before he can say anything, I leap over the bed and sprint into the hall, slamming the door shut behind me as I rush forward, wavering slightly on my feet. Glass shatters in the room.

Feet pound behind me but I don't risk turning to look, swinging around the corner. A woman stands in the way, one of Malik's soldiers. After recovering from the surprise of my presence, she swings an arm at me—I duck just in time.

"Don't hurt her!" Malik shouts from behind.

The woman falters. I take the moment to strike her in the stomach and she doubles over with a gasp, letting me past. I keep sprinting. This level of the castle is unfamiliar to me; a labyrinth of spare rooms once occupied by visitors. But there's only one direction to run. I reach the staircase, my heart sinking in my chest—the staircase leads up. I didn't even know there was another level. Behind me, Malik skids around the corner. I move, fast, but Malik's faster.

I bite my lip when he grabs my wrist, repressing a scream. The last thing I need is for more of his guards to help him. Malik pushes me into the stone wall, the weight of his body holding me still despite my struggles.

"Milena, please."

"Let me go!" His grip is too strong. The only part of my body free to move is my head, and I thrash it around, trying desperately to hit his. He dodges my advances with ease, adjusting his weight so one hand is free to hold my chin. "Let me go!"

He holds me there till my struggling ceases and I'm forced to meet his gaze—those icy blue eyes, tousled midnight hair. His expression softens, his grip on my chin more gentle. I falter. It was easier when I thought he was on Cynthia's side, when I thought he'd completely betrayed us, when I could paint him as an evil villain in my mind. But the way he looks at me, the gentle hold, it only makes it harder. He's stuck in a grey area between good and evil, and it plagues him just as much as it does me.

"Milena..." His voice, no more than a whisper, rattles my chest. It sounds like an apology, but he won't apologise. He can't. "I'm not going to hurt you."

My eyes burn with tears. "It's too late for that now."

Something flashes across his face, like my words have hurt him, and his grip loosens. I take the moment to break his hold, bringing my arms up and down to his shoulders, my knee between his legs. He doubles over at the contact and I shove him, sending him tumbling down the stairs, before spinning and sprinting up.

The staircase is steep, winding around in a spiral, each step adding to the sinking feeling in my stomach. I'm going to run out of places to run. At the top of the staircase, I reach a wooden door. My breath is ragged as I fumble with the latch, shoving the door open and jamming it shut behind me. The lock won't stop Malik, but it'll give me time. My vision blurs, head pounding, as I turn around. In the back of my mind, Malik's words repeat. Cynthia brought you to the brink of death. If I'm not careful, I might end up in the same state she left me.