KATHERINE POV
I was trying to find the goddamn exit.
Kingsley was right behind me, limping but keeping up, and my dad, was a silent wall of muscle at our backs. Almost fully healed but silent. Too calm. Like this was a Sunday stroll and not a flaming race through Jonas’s demented haunted house.
“Where the hell is the front door?” I growled, spinning down yet another hallway that didn’t look like it belonged here the last time I visited. “Did this asshole remodel with a maze manual?”
“He’s hiding the exit with magic,” Dad muttered. “Classic tactic.”
“Classic my ass. When I find Jonas, I’m setting his illusions and his balls on fire,” I snapped, slamming my shoulder into a door and finding—shockingly—not freedom, but a supply closet filled with bleach and regrets.
We kept running. Left
