Page 39 of Fallen Hero

The impulse to burn the building to the ground and free the ghosts that haunted these walls was hard to fend off.

“Do you have matches?” Calista sneered.

Good Christ, it was like this woman shared my brain.

“Come on,” I grunted, and carefully maneuvered around the trash toward the door farther down the wall.

No lock on this one.

I took a moment to listen for any sounds behind the door, but in the silence, all I could hear was the cries of the women who’d been trapped in this room. Their grief. Their fear. Their souls keening.

“Mason?” Calista’s voice cut through the quiet.

The doorknob was sticky. I knew it was too much to ask that the tackiness was from grape jelly, but still I hoped.

Like the first, this stairwell was lit by one light bulb at the base; it illuminated just enough to see the steps and the door at the top.

My phone vibrated.

With my clean hand, I reached back to grab it, then, one-handed, I unlocked the device and read the message.

No prize. We’re taking a walk. Be back in thirty.

I tilted the screen so Calista could read it.

“Damn,” she whispered.

“My hands are dirty. Take my phone and respond.”

She’d just slipped the phone out of my hand when the door at the top of the stairs opened.

Calista immediately fisted the back of my shirt and yanked it while she shuffled back. I held the door as it closed, turned, and followed Calista back to the other door.

We slipped back into the first stairwell, and I kept the door propped open a crack with my boot.

“Tell him we’re back in position one with company. No backup yet,” I whispered.

I watched as Calista tapped out the message.

Holding at position one. We have company. No backup needed.

On standby.

Copy.

“Want me to keep this?”

“Yeah.”

Calista shifted behind me and down one step. I went back to the crack in the door, hoping I could see or hear something.

It took a few moments before I heard a door opening, then closing. The crying was next. Then rapid-fire Hindi.

I was catching bits and pieces, enough to understand someone had hurt whoever was speaking, but not enough to paint a full picture.

A second female voice told the first to stop crying and clean up.

“Krpaya, Kiara.”