The Brother's Web

The Maze

The heat of Julian’s mouth was still burning mine when the reality of the shadow in the garden finally registered.

I ripped myself away from him. I shoved both hands into the center of his chest, using every ounce of leverage and panic I possessed.

Julian stumbled back a half-step. His dark eyes flashed with raw confusion, a low, predatory growl rumbling deep in his throat at the sudden loss of contact.

"He's there," I choked out, pointing a violently shaking finger over the stone railing, my lungs desperate for the freezing night air. "Julian, look!"

Julian whipped around, his instincts instantly shifting from lover to lethal protector. His massive hands braced against the granite ledge as he stared down into the sprawling, manicured labyrinth of the estate's hedge maze.

But the security light was empty.

The man in the wool coat was gone.

"Elara—" Julian started, turning back to me. His expression was a terrifying mixture of thwarted desire and calculated alertness. He reached out to grab my arm.

I didn't let him.

I hiked up the heavy silk of the plum gown and bolted.

I slammed through the French doors, the string quartet's haunting waltz washing over me in a chaotic, dizzying wave as I sprinted through the edge of the crowded ballroom. Faces blurred. Crystal champagne glasses clinked. I didn't care who was watching. I didn't care what the syndicate elites thought of the dead prince's girlfriend running like a madwoman.

I hit the sweeping marble staircase, nearly twisting my ankle on the polished stone. I kicked my heels off halfway down, leaving the expensive stilettos abandoned on the red carpet.

I burst through the estate's heavy rear terrace doors and plunged into the freezing, violent dark of the gardens.

The entrance to the hedge maze yawned ahead of me like a massive, black throat. I didn't hesitate. I threw myself into the shadows.

The temperature dropped instantly. The towering, ten-foot walls of tightly woven yew branches blocked out the moonlight and the wind, leaving only the sound of my ragged breathing and my bare feet slapping against the freezing gravel path.

Left. Right. Left again.

I was blindly navigating a labyrinth designed to confuse, desperate to find the ghost I had seen from the balcony. My feet went numb against the jagged stones, but the adrenaline masked the pain.

"Liam!" I whispered into the suffocating dark, my voice cracking humiliatingly. "Liam, please!"

Nothing.

Then, the slow, rhythmic crunch of gravel echoed from the entrance of the maze.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

Measured. Unhurried. Entirely inevitable.

"Elara."

Julian’s voice drifted through the dense leaves. It wasn't a shout. He didn't sound out of breath. It was a calm, dark projection that seemed to vibrate from every direction at once.

I slapped my hands over my mouth, pressing my back flat against the rough, scratching branches of a dead end. My chest heaved so violently I thought my ribs would crack under the pressure.

"You are running barefoot in the dark in November," Julian’s voice floated closer. The gravel crunched again. He was turning the corner, perhaps two aisles over. "You are going to hurt yourself. Come out."

It didn't sound like a man trying to rescue a frightened woman.

It sounded exactly like a warden calling for an escaped prisoner.

I squeezed my eyes shut. My heart hammered against my spine in a terrifying, erratic rhythm. Every time I looked at the dark opening of the path, I expected his massive frame to block out the stars, to step out of the shadows and drag me back to his golden cage.

You let him kiss you, a sick, guilty voice whispered in my head. You kissed him back while Liam was watching.

I pushed off the hedge, ignoring the sharp twigs tearing at the expensive silk of my dress, and crept deeper into the labyrinth.

The maze grew darker. The ambient light from the estate vanished entirely. I was utterly alone in the crushing blackness.

"There is nowhere for you to go, Elara."

Julian was closer now. Much closer. Just on the other side of the wall of leaves directly to my right. I could hear the faint, agonizing rustle of his wool tuxedo jacket brushing against the foliage as he walked.

I froze, paralyzed by the sheer terror of his proximity. If I took a single step, the gravel would betray me.

"I know you think you saw something," Julian murmured through the leaves. His voice was a lethal velvet caress, vibrating right beside my ear. "But there is nothing out here except you and me. Now, be a good girl and walk toward my voice before I lose my temper."

A sob caught in my throat. I couldn't do it. I couldn't face the dark satisfaction in his eyes, knowing how thoroughly he had broken my defenses on that balcony.

I backed away, stepping as lightly as possible, desperate to put distance between myself and the wall of leaves.

I backed into a four-way intersection, glancing left and right, completely disoriented in the pitch black.

I took one more step backward.

My spine collided with a solid, unyielding chest.

Before I could even draw breath to scream, a heavy arm banded around my waist, yanking me violently against a rough wool coat. A large hand clamped brutally over my mouth.

The rough leather of the glove tasted like ash and copper.

I thrashed, kicking my bare feet against my attacker's shins, but he was entirely immovable. He dragged me effortlessly back into the deepest alcove of the hedge, swallowing us both in the absolute, suffocating dark.

Julian’s footsteps crunched into the intersection just seconds later.

His flashlight beam clicked on, cutting a blinding, violent swath through the dark. The white light swept over the exact spot I had been standing moments before, illuminating the disturbed gravel.

My attacker held me impossibly still. He pressed me flush against his chest, his leather-clad hand suffocating my desperate whimpers, his arm crushing my ribs.

Julian stood in the center of the path, perfectly rigid. His broad shoulders were tense, his head tilted slightly as if listening to the wind. He was five feet away. If he turned his flashlight a fraction to the left, he would see the purple silk of my dress bleeding into the shadows.

The tension was so thick I could taste it.

The man holding me lowered his head. The scratchy wool of his coat brushed my bare shoulder as his mouth hovered directly next to my ear.

"I told you not to trust him," a voice whispered.

My blood froze completely in my veins.

The words were exactly the same as the text message.

But the voice wasn't human. It wasn't Liam.

It was a harsh, vibrating mechanical hiss—completely distorted, dragged through a digital voice-changer that made it sound like a cold machine imitating a dead man.