Wildfire

Chapters 20

It was almost as if people had taken off only five minutes before I woke up.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I moved toward the staircase, descending as slowly and quietly as I could manage. I could barely hear the soft pad of my feet over the sound of my heart hammering, and my fingers were starting to shake as they glided along the length of the bannister.

I didn't stop to consider a plan — the only thing on my mind was escape, and I'd figure out the rest as I went.

When I finally reached the bottom of the staircase, it felt like my skin was drenched in sweat. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, to notice the moonlight filtering through a high window in the second hallway. The window had been splashed with black paint and the light was barely visible, but it was there all the same.

Who blacks out there windows like that? I thought as I wandered down the hallway. All doors here were closed too and another staircase led to what appeared to be the ground floor. I moved as swiftly as I could manage without accidentally stumbling into anything, descending the second set of stairs.

Like the floors above, the ground level of the house was completely dark and seemingly devoid of people. The air was cold enough to raise goose bumps on my arms, but I had a feeling that the heating had been turned on recently. It wasn't quite cold enough, considering the weather in Minneapolis.

Unless I'm not in Minneapolis anymore, I thought, alarm once again surging to the forefront of my mind.

I had no idea how long I'd been knocked out — I had just assumed that since it was still dark, I hadn't been knocked out all that long. But I could have been out for days, I realized.

No, no, no, I told myself firmly. Keep your head until you're out of here, Paige.

I glanced around, biting my lip as I tried to decide what to do. The hall was bigger than the floors above, with three different doors leading off it. One was open and I could make out a long, wooden table in the room beyond.

The dining room, I guessed.

I moved toward the second, my hand clasping the door handle and pushing it open.

A rush of relief crashed through me when I realized it opened up into a small, old—fashioned vestibule. The windows were clear here, and moonlight cast a silvery glow over the conservatory furniture. Rows of scuffed, military-style boots lined the right wall — some caked in mud, others barely worn. The sheer amount sent fear spiralling through my system.

What the hell was this place?!

Had I been kidnapped by the military? What the hell would they want with me? Fear closed like a fist around my chest. What if this was like Roswell? What if they knew that I knew something about werewolves or lupi, and they kidnapped me in order to torture me for information?

Oh god.

I fumbled with the latch on the front door, a fresh wave of surprise crashing through me when it opened beneath my hand. I tumbled out onto a veranda, my feet slipping down the steps until I landed with a quiet thump on my knees. Pain jarred through my legs, reverberating around inside my skull as my vision swam, but I forced myself to climb back up onto my feet.

Run, I thought.

I had no idea where I was running to — in the darkness, I could barely make out a worn dirt track that had obviously seen a lot of wheels, but beyond that, all I could see were trees. The cold air stung at my cheeks and when I exhaled, my breath evaporated in a wisp of white fog.