Page 131 of Brutal
The next room stops me.
Screens. All dark for now, but I don’t need them lit to understand what they are. High-tech security. And just because the screens are dark doesn’t mean the system isn’t working. I’m betting Samson has access to this whole place on his phone.
A large room near the back is an office, complete with a wood-burning fireplace. There’s no fire, of course, but as I approach it I feel a waft of heat.
A fire was burning recently. Very recently.
There’s a desk, several chairs, bookshelves, and file cabinets. A bar with several decanters of liquor.
I step back into the hall.
And that’s when I see it.
The door.
I reach the end of the hall.
This door doesn’t belong. Everything else in this place is modern.
This isn’t.
A heavy chain wraps around the handles, dark with rust, thick enough that it feels out of place in a house like this.
At the center is an old iron lock that’s scarred and weathered. Like it’s been here longer than everything else.
My stomach knots as I take a step closer. Then another.
The air feels different here. Heavier. Like the space itself knows what’s behind that door.
I reach out?—
“You don’t touch that.”
Samson’s voice lands behind me.
My breath shifts, but I don’t jump. “I thought you had work to do,” I say without turning to face him.
“I did. I do. But I returned because I forgot something. And it’s a good thing I did. You stay away from that.”
I shrug innocently. “But you told me to look around.”
“I figured you’d know that if a door is locked, you don’t try to get in.” His voice gets louder. He’s stepping closer. “And that door stays closed.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Because.”
“That’s not a reason.”
He lays a firm hand on my shoulder. “It is here.”
I turn slowly, and then I gasp.
He’s barefoot. Shirtless. Didn’t he say he was going to do some work?
I drop my gaze to his right hand. To the ring. The key. “You can open it,” I say.
“Yes.”
