Chapter 9

The place was quiet, eerily so. The kind of quiet you only got after a night of activity and a rush of adrenaline felt by all.

I debated using the window, but there were too many extra warriors around. Besides, I was more shielded under the mask I created—a terrified shell of a girl looking for water and comfort after a trying night of mysterious death.

No one was outside the door and no sound at all in the hallway. I didn’t bring a light source; instead ran a hand along the familiar corridors.

I didn’t waste my time here. The past few years were spent memorizing, learning, and planning. I knew this place better than anyone. I spent days walking the packhouse before I was allowed out of it. I counted the stairs, memorized the turns, knew the feel of the hallway when it curved slightly, telling me I was about to reach another alcove. I could walk this place with my eyes closed, and I have done it before.

No one was downstairs, not even nurses, but who needed to guard a dead man anyw