Sound of Madness A Dark Royal Romance - Maria Luis Page 0,120

lip. “Robert Guthram—he might still be there.”

My eyes narrow. “He might?”

“I stabbed him.”

“You don’t have a knife—”

“It’s probably best not to ask questions right now, since we’re short on time and all. But, Damien, we need him.”

The edge in her voice tells me that whatever Guthram has done, it probably relates to the anti-loyalists locked away within Broadmoor Hospital. I think of Caren Fitz. His wife, his children . . . I attended the man’s bloody funeral all while he was alive and stuck in a psych ward in Crowthorne. We can’t save them all today—not just with just Rowena and me—but if we have Guthram, if we have information . . .

“Tell me where he is.”

“I’ll take you to him.”

“Rowena—”

But she’s already jogging down the hall, her skirt riding up her knees. With a curse, I follow quickly. Her feet are bare, her jumper torn, the flesh around her throat pinkened with the shape of a handprint.

A gust of rage sweeps beneath my skin.

The red haze of the emergency lights casts shadows over the walls, tunneling the corridor so that it appears narrow and twisted. Rowena guides me with only her hand. Down one hallway and then to the next. She tracks the blood staining the concrete, as if knowing that at the end we’ll find Guthram.

And we do.

He’s shoved himself against a wall, his legs bent to the side. In the ten years since I’ve seen him, he’s aged a century. Fine lines feather across his forehead and white hair tangles in with the brown. His lids flutter as I sink down in front of him, then open completely when he feels my hand fist his shirt to tow him off the floor.

“I knew it was you,” he grunts, batting at my hands. “I fucking knew it was you.”

I don’t respond.

Instead, I slip one arm under his waist and brace myself as I lift him clear over my shoulder. Exhaustion threatens to send me sprawling to the floor. But I grit my teeth and readjust my grip on the bastard and, after a shaky first step, I begin to move at a quick clip.

“The watch,” I mutter to Rowena. “Go to the home screen for me.” With a worried glance in my direction, she does as I say. “Tap the right-hand corner like I showed you. Good . . . good, now see the coordinates? Pull them up and choose anywhere behind the hospital. Press down . . . select grenade.”

A second later, mingled in with the pulsing siren, comes the heavy boom! of an explosion.

Rowena’s lips part. “Damien—”

“It’s an illusion.” I shuffle her down another hall after glancing ahead. “It channels the closest WiFi connection, manipulating nearby technology to produce sound. They won’t know that, though, and it’ll give us a few minutes.”

Slowly, as if she’s half-terrified by the watch’s power, she holds up her wrist. “You created this?”

“Yes.”

“And the brooch? You did that too?”

I nod.

“You really can do everything, can’t you?”

We’re surrounded by death, layered by grim misery, and my chest fucking swells at the awe in her husky voice. Over my shoulder, Guthram releases a pitiful groan. Ignoring him, I lead Rowena through the final maze of corridors before gesturing toward the door that I left cracked open with a rock. We push our way in, and relief nearly takes me down when I see that the room is still empty.

Beside me, Rowena stares at the bare bones window . . . and the bars that have been left mangled on the floor. “Do I want to know?” she asks mildly.

Probably not.

“Go first. You’ll need to help me shove him out.”

Rowena clambers through and, together, we maneuver Guthram. By the time I’m pushing my way out into the crisp sunshine, there’s no mistaking the sound of a helicopter circling above Broadmoor.

Fuck.

Bending at the knees, I hike Guthram’s bulky weight back over my shoulder. Grit my teeth and let my gaze follow the narrow trail to where I parked the car. We stay and we die or we move and we die. If my brothers were here, they’d tell me it’s suicide. Glancing up at the sky, I note the angle of the helicopter’s rotation.

“We run.”

“Damien, we won’t even make it past—”

“We run—now!”

The helicopter swoops inward, leaning in toward Broadmoor’s roofline, and, briefly, allowing the trees to obscure us from view. Rowena’s bare feet kick up dirt and I stay on top of her as best as I can with Guthram bouncing over my right shoulder.