Page 87 of An Oath at Midnight

“Promise me you’ll be careful,” she said, eyes glistening.

“Promise.”

We strode out to the car a few minutes later. “We need to head to the city,” I said.

Bram took the car keys I held out for him. “Your task?”

I nodded.

The sense of urgency grew as we drove. It definitely wasn’t Agatheena meddling this time, and the feeling was so strong that I had to grab for the door handle, sucking in a startled breath.

Bram shot me a look. “Okay?”

I nodded and gripped the door tighter. “Turn right, then take the next left,” I said, when we hit the city, letting my instincts guide me.

I directed him down street after street until we reached one of the oldest parts of the city. The buildings were ornate, solid. Most of this street had been developed a few years back, new bars, clubs, and restaurants. A couple of the hotels had been refurbished. This was where the wealthy locals or visitors came to play.

“There,” I said, pointing to a parking spot ahead of us.

Bram parked, and I shoved the door open and followed the persistent feeling pulsing through my veins. Bram jogged to catch up as we strode past shops and clubs. It was late enough that most of the shops were closed, and early enough that the bars were still pretty quiet and the clubs hadn’t opened yet.

I stopped in front of a cobbled walkway between two buildings. The stones were black, but every so often there was a red one, like a trail leading you somewhere. There were vintage lanterns on either side that provided dim lighting and a small bronze plaque set into the brick wall to the right with “Red” etched into it. “Down here,” I said.

Bram grabbed my arm, stopping me. “Careful, we don’t know where that leads.” He slid his knife free.

I nodded, and pulled mine as well as we walked up to a massive, glossy red door. I tried the handle. Locked. “Keep watch.”

I picked the lock, opening the door, then quickly sliced an X in my palm before the alarm went off, about to use the same spell I had at the school, then paused, when I didn’t feel the usual vibrations. “The alarm, the cameras, they’re already off.”

I bunched my shirt in my hand, applying pressure to stop the bleeding. Bram’s nostrils flared, gaze darting to my hand. But we didn’t have time for him to treat it, not when we didn’t know what was behind the set of double red doors ahead of us.

We walked into a foyer and each of us took a side, knives gripped in our hands, and grabbed a door handle.

Bram nodded, and we opened them together—

Then froze.

Bram scented the air. His eyes flared, and he cursed before he grabbed my hand, yanking me closer.

I’d filled Bram in on everything that had happened while he was away on our way back from the village, including what I’d witnessed hiding behind the curtains in the Hazarks’ living room. A week ago, I would’ve been surprised that this was where I’d been called, but not now, not after what I saw. It was a BDSM club. Thankfully, it was currently closed.

The walls were painted black, and there were racks and benches and all kinds of contraptions I’d never seen before dotted around the room. There were also couches, a couple beds, and a small stage.

“You think this is one of the prom committee’s hangouts?” Bram asked, taking in the room.

“I don’t know, but it would make sense, right? Chase mentioned a playroom. So I guess, this is what they’re into.” I tried to imagine this place full of people, and my belly swirled. Was I intrigued? Yes. Was it my scene? Oh, hell no. “I guess we should look around.”

We checked out the rest of the large main room, then headed down a hall in the back, where there were smaller ones. All different themes, with different devices. I assumed they were for people who wanted to play in private.

The last door was ajar. My instincts skyrocketed. I motioned to it and Bram pushed it open. He stopped abruptly and I bumped into him.

“Fuck,” he bit out.

I stepped around him.

Chase Golden.

He was all fucked up, but I recognized that hair instantly. His wrists were bound with wire, secured above his head, mouth sewn shut, face swollen and bloody. His shirt was open and “judgment” was carved into his chest—