Page 77 of Stolen Faith

The deadly tone of Devon’s voice told Rowan this was not a man he’d ever want to cross.

“Okay. Look sharp.” Rowan left the cell, leading them down the corridor away from the stairwell to the garage. When they reached the end, he glanced through the window in the door. Nothing was on the other side except the dingy stairwell. There were no guards here, which meant their captors were cocky enough to believe they’d secured them well enough.

Opening the door, he led the way, feeling a bit like a mama duck with his ducklings behind him. They climbed up one story and found another door. This one didn’t have a window in it.

If there were guards on the other side, once he opened the door, this escape attempt was going to be over before it began.

Turning, he held his index finger to his lips, warning the others to be quiet. Reaching for the handle, he turned it slowly, opening the door the slightest bit so that he could peer through. From his angle, all he could see was a long hallway. Unlike the basement hallway, this one wasn’t bleak concrete. It was carpeted with low-pile commercial carpet and white-painted walls. The hallway was also, mercifully, empty.

He listened for the sound of voices or footsteps in case there was someone in the part of the hallway he couldn’t see, but silence was all that met him. He wished for his tactical vest, where he always kept a mirror tucked in a pocket. Wished for a team, which would mean someone would have a snake cam or an eye pole.

He scanned the ceilings and corners, checking for cameras, or even decorative elements that might conceal cameras. Nothing.

Opening the door farther, he slowly peered both ways. Empty.

“Clear,” he said softly. He felt the others, who’d pressed against the walls, clustering in behind him.

The hallway was lined with closed doors, like the basement had been, but these clearly weren’t prison cells. There were windows in most of them, and some were decorated with pictures that looked like…crayon drawings?

Rowan leaned out until he could see the closest door more clearly. It was decorated with children’s drawings as well as a sign that said, “Second Grade.”

“What the fuuuuuck?” Brennon breathed. Clearly, he’d spotted the drawings too.

Was this a school? A school with a dungeon? Maybe it was the prison offices, and those were their kids’ drawings. But then why would the door say Second Grade?

Stepping into the hallway, he gestured for the others to stay where they were. The hall was quiet, but that didn’t mean there weren’t people in the rooms.

Rowan stepped out of the stairwell, pausing for a moment. Then he returned to the others, who were waiting for him to tell them what to do next. He pointed behind him. “Stay here.”

Juliette nodded, the others hovering behind her.

Rowan paused, and though Devon probably could handle the situation, he said, “If someone comes out and catches me, find somewhere to hide.”

“Understood,” Juliette whispered.

Rowan hung close to the wall, slowly making his way to the first door. There was a large window in the top half, so he peered into the dark room cautiously. Empty. The lights were off, though there were three large windows in the far wall. The blinds were closed, but there was enough of a gap that he could see it was night. The only light in the room came from the hallway, and he was partially blocking that. It wasn’t pitch dark in the room, but everything he saw was primarily cast in shadows.

It had been dusk when they’d arrived in Atlanta last night. Looked like they’d been locked in the cells approximately twenty-four hours, as it was dusk again. Storm clouds had rolled in, and Rowan heard the rumble of thunder in the far distance.

Rowan tried the knob and discovered the door was unlocked. Stepping inside, his eyes adjusted, and he saw cute mini wooden chairs, perfect for small humans, in a semicircle around a larger, teacher-sized chair. There were cubbies around the walls, filled with toys and picture books.

Was this really a school with a prison under it? Or a prison with a school in it? Somehow both options were so much worse than this being an abandoned military installation.

Rowan went to the windows, hope rising in him. The side exit had been guarded, but he was pretty sure these windows looked out on the back of the building.

Still, he was careful as he moved the blind just enough to scan the window casement. He looked for a latch, a lever, a crank.

Nothing. The windows were set flush with their frames, no way to open them.

They’d break it. Enough tape and they might be able to muffle the sound—

A guard came around the corner outside.

Rowan jerked back, hands holding the blinds to keep them still.

He waited, perfectly still. The streetlights cast the guard’s shadow on the curtains as he walked past.

Fuck.