Page 68 of Liar

A flicker of movement at the other end of the corridor snaps my chin up. With every crevice in Malcolm’s mansion so glaringly illuminating, I quickly spot Savannah making her way toward me.

Her gold robe flows behind her, blond hair cascading in waves down both sides of her chest. The robe parts at the collar, her body enhanced with a tight, bloodred dress matching her lipsticked mouth.

Something glints in her hand.

“Don’t make this so easy, Ember.”

I don’t dawdle enough to see what she has before I dive into the nearest room and slam the door, twisting the brass lock.

Spinning around, my breaths aching inside my lungs, I take stock of where I’ve landed.

It’s a guest room, one I’ve never wandered into. Dust immediately coats my nostrils, and I sneeze.

The doorknob rattles behind me.

“Ember? Are you in there?” Savannah follows up her obvious question with dulled laughter.

My eyes snap back to the door. I don’t know if they’ve scored the master key from Dash, but if I were them, that’s one of the first things I’d do—other than turning on all of the fucking lights. I have to find a place to hide. Now.

I do another sweep of the room. Blue walls, white lace bedding and canopy, bay window with a reading seat—I can’t be forced to hide under the bed. I absolutely cannot. I may not have the best odds of outwitting a secret society, but I certainly won’t be their sitting duck.

An armoire catches my attention. It’s huge, one of those incredibly old ones used instead of closets. It’s not any better than crawling under the bed.

I lift the large rug positioned underneath the wooden bedframe, praying for a trapdoor. There’s none. That would be too easy, of course.

Swallowing a cry of despair, I honestly debate jumping out of the window.

But no, I won’t give them the satisfaction of handing them a dead Ember, either.

I go back to the window. Narrow my eyes.

Could I … get to the roof that way?

I have to try.

After throwing one last look over my shoulder, I press my hands to the cold glass panels, searching for a give. My eyes dart to the ledge, noticing an iron circular lever in the corner.

“Oh … fuck.” I give it a twist. It won’t budge.

“Ember? You doing okay in there?” Savannah trills.

I jump up, throwing my entire weight into unsticking this old, rusted window crank.

I’m fully committed to getting this window open, but my ears are attuned to all other options. I hear a scuffle on the other side of the door. Muffled voices. Then Savannah’s squeal of glee.

“Not to worry if you’re stuck. I have a key,” she calls.

Shit, I was right. They scoured Dash’s room—or Dash—and came up with the master key. Someone must’ve just passed it to her. Otherwise, she would’ve used it to catch me as soon as I trapped myself in here.

And that someone other than Damion and Savannah are in the house.

How many Society members got in?

No time to ponder. I shimmy the handle back and forth, gritting my teeth. I’ll force it to move with my mind if I have to.

There’s a snick of a lock drawing back. The doorknob turns under Savannah’s hand.

I give one last motherfucker of a shove, resigned that I’ll either break it or get it unstuck. I have no other choice.