Fated Lies (Lies 3)

The decision ultimately ends up being easy—I run toward the closed door, toward Langston.

I can’t save myself without saving him. If I left, they could kill him before I brought anyone to save him, and I couldn’t face that.

I get to the closed door and listen carefully for any sign of someone standing guard. I don’t hear anyone, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there.

Slowly, I open the door wide enough to look down the hallway. I don’t find anyone, so I open the door all the way and step through. The hallway is quiet and empty.

I start walking down the hallway, hoping to find Langston or some hint of who is holding us. With any luck, Langston will have woken up by now, and we will be able to sneak out together.

I get to a fork in the hallway. I can continue on straight or turn to the right. There are no people straight ahead, so I push my head forward to look down to the right. It’s empty as well.

My gut tells me to go right. There are a lot more doors to the right than straight ahead.

I continue down the hallway as silently as I can, looking for clues of whose house this is or where Langston is. All of the decorations look to be a century or more old and have no personal touches. I wouldn’t be surprised if this is a rental property. That, combined with the seemingly lack of security cameras or guards, makes it feel like whoever is holding us doesn’t have as much money or skill as we first thought.

I come to the first door and place my ear against it to listen. I don’t hear anything, so I continue on.

I do the same to two more doors before I get to one where I hear a gentle moaning sound. I open the door, too quickly, and it makes a creaking sound. But I’m in such a hurry to get to Langston if he’s hurt.

Langston is lying on the cold floor, but no one is watching him. They must think since they drugged us that they don’t need to stand guard—what fools.

I race over to his side and gently pat his cheek.

“Langston, you have to wake up. We have to get out of here.”

I tug on his arm and try to roll him over.

He moans but doesn’t open his eyes.

“Sorry about this, but you need to get up.”

I take his arm out of the sling and pull hard.

He growls and grips it, his eyes flying open.

I exhale sharply. “We have to get out of here,” I repeat.

He looks around, completely confused, but we don’t have time to explain or wait until his brain is fully functional again.

“Can you stand?”

“I think so.”

He starts to push himself up with one arm but falls.

“I’ve got you,” I say, looping his arm over my shoulders and lifting him up.

He’s heavy, and his feet seem barely functional. I won’t be able to help him far. Hopefully, his legs will start working soon. If not, we won’t make it far without being caught.

“Well, well, how clever you are to have avoided a dart,” a man says from the doorway. He’s wearing a sharp-looking suit, apparently the king of this castle. It’s almost like he’s from another time.

He snaps his fingers, and two men run inside and pull Langston from my shoulder.

“Don’t hurt him!” I plead as they throw him back down on the ground. He’s too drugged up to fight. He can barely even lift his head.

“Well, that depends on you, Miss Dunn,” the man in the suit says.

I continue to look at Langston on the floor. I’m completely helpless. I’ve failed. Now I know how Langston must have felt when he failed to protect me. It’s a horrid feeling that creeps up your chest and throat, taking hold of all your senses.