~LAYLA~
The silence that followed the dial tone was deafening.
"He’s hurt," I said in panic. I grabbed Axel’s arm. "Did you hear that? Julian broke the door down. We have to call the police. We have to..."
"No police," Axel cut off. He was already moving toward the bedroom. "Isabelle will claim Pennyworth is having a senile episode. She’ll claim he stole property, and by the ti the police get a warrant to search the library, those journals will be ashes in the fireplace."
He came back out holding a black duffel bag. He tossed a bundle of clothes at me.
"Change," he ordered. "You can’t run in a ballgown."
I looked at the grey sweatpants and black hoodie he had thrown. "Run? Axel, what are we doing?"
Axel checked the magazine of a handgun I hadn’t even seen him pull out, then tucked it into the waistband of his trousers.
"We’re going back," he said grimly. "We’re getting Pennyworth. And we’re getting that journal."
—
The estate looked different in the dark. Without the lights of the party, it looked gothic. The rain had started again, washing away the tyre tracks left by the earlier guests.
Axel parked the SUV a mile down the road, hidden in a cluster of trees. We approached on foot, moving through the shadows of the hedgerows.
"Stay behind me," Axel whispered as we reached the service entrance near the kitchens. "If I say run, you run. Do you understand?"
"I’m not leaving you," I hissed back.
"Layla."
"I understand," I lied.
Axel approached the keypad. He pulled a small tool from his pocket, prying the faceplate off. Within ten seconds, he had hotwired the lock. The light turned green, and we slipped inside.
The house was quiet, but it wasn’t peaceful. It felt violated. Drawers were pulled out in the hallway; papers were scattered on the floor.
We moved toward the butler’s pantry. The door was splintered, hanging off its top hinge.
My heart hamred against my ribs. I peered inside.
Pennyworth was sitting on a wooden stool, with his hands zip-tied behind his back. There was a nasty bruise forming on his cheekbone, and his lip was split.
"Arthur!" I whispered, rushing forward.
Pennyworth’s eyes flew open. "Ma’am? Mr. O’Brien?"
Axel was already behind him, using a knife to slice the zip ties.
"Did they find it?" Axel asked, keeping his voice low.
"Not yet," Pennyworth wheezed, rubbing his wrists. "Master Julian is in the library destroying everything. He thinks it is in the safe behind the portrait."
"Where is it, Arthur?" I asked, helping him stand. "Where is the journal?"
Pennyworth looked at with wet eyes. "The bust, Ma’am. Great Uncle Barnaby."
I blinked. "The alpaca guy?"
"The Duke always said..." Pennyworth coughed. "He said, ’If you want to hide wisdom, put it inside a head that never had any.’"
"The hallway," I realised. "Outside the library."
Axel looked at the door. "We have to go past the library to get to it."
"I’ll get it," I said. "You get Pennyworth to the car."
"Absolutely not," Axel said.
"You’re the only one who can carry him if he can’t walk fast enough," I argued. "I’m faster. I know exactly where it is. Please, Axel. Trust ."
Axel looked at Pennyworth, who was swaying on his feet, then at me. He hated it, I could see it in his eyes.
"Two minutes," Axel said. "If you’re not back at the kitchen door in two minutes, I’m coming in, and I’m shooting everyone who isn’t you."
"Deal."
I pulled the black hood up over my head and slipped into the corridor.
I moved silently, thanks to the sneakers I was now wearing. I could hear the sounds of destruction coming from the library. Books being thrown, glass shattering.
"It has to be here!" Julian was screaming. "Where did the old bat hide it?"
"Keep looking!" Isabelle shot back. "Check the floorboards!"
I crept past the open double doors of the library. I caught a glimpse of them: Julian was red-faced, sweating, tearing pages out of books. Isabelle was ripping paintings off the walls.
They looked deranged.
I reached the bust of Great Uncle Barnaby. It sat on a pedestal in the shadows. Please be there.
I reached up and felt around the back of the marble head. My fingers touched a latch, and I clicked it. The top of the head, which was made of hair and a hat, swung open. It was empty inside. But waiting in the hollow space of the marble skull was a thick, leather-bound notebook.
I grabbed the heavy journal and closed the bust with a sigh. I have it.
I turned to run back to the kitchen. But then, my eyes darted down the dark corridor toward the West Wing.
My mother’s letters, and the proof of who Isabelle really was. The only piece of my mother I had left, plus it’s also evidence.
If Isabelle realised I was gone, she would burn this house to the ground, or at least that room. And if she found the letters, she would most definitely destroy them.
I looked at the kitchen door. I had maybe sixty seconds left.
’Don’t do it, Layla,’ a voice in my head warned.
’I have to,’ my heart answered.
I didn’t turn back to the kitchen; I sprinted toward the West Wing.
I reached the door to my mother’s room but realised I didn’t have the key, I had left it in the ballgown.
"Damn it," I cursed.
I gripped the handle and threw my shoulder against the old wood. It groaned but didn’t open. I stepped back and kicked it, right near the lock.
CRACK.
The door flew open, and the noise echoed through the silent house.
"Who’s there?" Julian’s voice shouted from the library.
I didn’t hesitate. I jumped into the room, slid across the floor to the window seat, and lifted the loose board.
The biscuit tin was there.
I grabbed it, shoving the heavy tin into the front pocket of my hoodie while clutching the journal in my hand.
"Soone is upstairs!" Isabelle shrieked.
I scrambled up and ran.
I hit the hallway just as Julian burst out of the library.
He saw me. He saw the hooded figure sprinting down the West Wing corridor.
I stepped into the hallway just as Julian ca rushing out of the library. He spotted as I started down the corridor in the West Wing.
"Hey!" Julian roared. "Stop!"
"Get her, Julian!" Isabelle scread.
I didn’t stop. I ran harder than I had ever run in my life as I heard his footsteps behind .
I rounded the corner into the servant’s corridor, clutching the journal to my chest. I could hear his ragged breathing; he was gaining on me.
"Axel!" I scread.
I burst into the kitchen. Axel was there, supporting Pennyworth.
I ca to a stop behind Axel just as Julian burst into the room, holding a heavy iron fire poker.
His eyes caught the book in my arms.
"Give that!" Julian roared. He raised the poker and lunged at .
Axel didn’t even blink; he stepped forward, caught Julian’s wrist in mid-swing, and twisted.
"Arrrgghhh!" Julian scread, dropping the poker as his arm was wrenched behind his back. Axel slamd him face-first into the stainless steel island counter.
"I suggest you stay down," Axel said calmly, leaning close to Julian’s ear. "Or I’ll break the other one."
Axel shoved Julian away. He stumbled back, clutching his wrist, looking at Axel with pure terror. "You... you can’t..." Julian stamred.
"We have the pills, Julian," Axel said coldly. "And now we have the book. Tell your mother, ’checkmate’."
Axel grabbed my arm. "Go."
We ran out the back door, into the rain, dragging Pennyworth with us.
As we reached the tree line, I looked back. Isabelle was standing in the illuminated kitchen doorway, staring out into the dark, screaming at the night.
We piled into the SUV. Axel hit the gas, and we sped away, leaving Blackwood Manor behind us.
I sat in the back seat next to Pennyworth, my chest heaving. I looked down at the leather book in my lap.
"Are you alright, Arthur?" I asked gently.
"I will be fine, Your Grace," he whispered, using my new title.
I opened the journal. Axel turned to briefly. "Is that it? Check for his most recent entry. What does it say?"
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