Page 29 of Risky Obsession
He killed the engine and pointed to a massive rock on the side of the road. “Found it.”
The word ‘Carinhall’ was carved into the moss-covered boulder.
“Carinhall? As in,theCarinhall!” I blinked at him. Thank goodness I’d read about this place in Yasmin’s father’s journal.
He grinned like I’d passed some kind of test, and I grinned right back at him.
“Looks like we’re walking from here though.” He indicated to the right of the rock where a tangle of vines and undergrowth obscured what might have once been a driveway.
His expression darkened with worry.
“What?” I asked.
He glanced at me with an unreadable expression, then opened his door and stepped out.
The cold wind whipped around me as I followed him, sending a shiver down my spine. We were in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but wilderness that had seen some truly gruesome events.
What have I got myself into?
“Lead the way,” I said, wishing I had my Glock tucked into the bag across my chest.
Kane set off at a brisk pace and his long legs easily navigated the overgrown path. My leg wound stung like hell as I struggled to keep up, reminding me that I was overdue for a painkiller. I hated taking drugs, a legacy from my chemistry degree that got me into a hell of a lot of trouble, but the aches in my leg and my wounded fingers were beginning to dominate too much of my attention.
The wind whistled through the trees, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and something else . . . decay, maybe. A small creek covered in dead leaves ambled along the edge of the path, its gurgling waters adding to the crunch of dead foliage beneath our boots.
“Are you sure this is the right way?” I asked, unable to suppress my curiosity any longer.
“Positive,” Kane replied, yet his tone contradicted his statement and fueled my growing unease.
I wanted to know what was worrying him, but something told me that even he didn’t know. Instead, with my breath visible in the frosty air, I focused on keeping up with him.
The hike along the non-existent path seemed to stretch on forever and each step took us deeper into the forest. Every flutter of wings overhead sent my heart leaping into my throat, and I couldn’t shake the feeling we were being watched.
“Kane,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “This can’t be right.”
“It is. We’re almost there.” The muscles along his jaw bulged as he clenched his teeth.
But we didn’t reach ‘there’ any time soon, and my damn leg was aching like hell.
“Kane.” The wind seemed to tug at my voice. “This can’t be right.”
“It is. Look.” He pointed ahead. A ruined castle loomed in the distance.
A chill crept down my spine. The castle had crumbling turrets, and the commanding stone structures were charred and broken.
The remains of the massive building, in the middle of nowhere, were a haunting reminder of the darkness that had once thrived within its walls.
Kane’s gaze fixed on the devastated remains of the main section of the castle.
“You know the history behind this place, right?” He stood on a stone that was remarkably rectangular in shape.
I searched my memory. Yasmin’s father, David, had dozens of journals filled with notes on his specialty . . . Hitler. Thankfully, Yasmin and Cobra had helped me focus on the clues David had pieced together on the gold bars.
“Carinhall was Hermann Göring’s country residence.”
“That’s right. Hitler’s right-hand man and best man at his wedding.” The muscles in his jaw worked furiously as if he were grinding his teeth. “He built this place in the early 1930s on this sprawling hunting estate.”
I shivered, not only from the cold but also from the thought of the atrocities that occurred within these walls. Yet, there was a sense of satisfaction with the destruction, like the crumbling, ash-covered walls deserved to be disfigured and grotesque. Vines had taken over one of the turrets, like nature was trying to crush the remains.