Lycan's Prey by Jessica Hall

Chapter 167

“You can’t escape, Aubrey!” he shouts, his voice booming, reverberating through the empty space. “You’re mine, do you hear me? Mine!”

I push myself faster, the weight of his words twisting in my stomach like a knife. The idea of being his, of being trapped and used, is more terrifying than anything. I reach the top of the stairs and burst through the door, slamming it shut behind me. My eyes scan the hallway–a dusty, dimly lit corridor stretches out before me, lined with more doors, each one promising yet more twists in this nightmare maze. I spot a chair leaning against the wall and jam it under the handle of the door, hoping it will buy me precious seconds though I doubt it. That chair looks on the verge of crumbling any second but it’s all I have right now.

For a split second, I pause, heart pounding, trying to get my bearings. Where the hell am I? It feels like I’ve been running in circles, deeper into the building instead of out of it. The air is thick, stale, pressing down on me, and every shadow seems to pulse with hidden threats.

A furious roar erupts from the stairwell, shaking me from my thoughts. Rhett’s frustration reverberates through the metal door, followed by a loud, brutal bang as he slams his fists against it. “Aubrey!” he bellows, the door rattling under his assault. I can hear him fumbling with the handle, then a crash as the chair I wedged there topples to the ground. Shit.

Bianca’s voice joins the cacophony, her tone dripping with yenom. “You idiot! How could you let her escape?”

Chapter 167

11 79/%$******

on the door, each one sending tremors through the frame. The sound is close, too close, and I know

the corridor, which opens up into another vast, open space-a sprawling storage area filled with rows of rusted metal shelves, stacked with dusty boxes, forgotten junk, and old equipment. The lights here flicker weakly, casting a dim, sickly yellow glow that barely reaches the far corners of the room. Shadows pool in the alcoves between the shelves,

broken furniture create shadowy alcoves,

thick with the smell of mold and rot, tinged with the faint metallic scent of rust. I force myself to stay calm, to think clearly despite the terror clawing at

fear through me. I duck behind a moldy armchair, pressing myself into the shadows, my back against the damp concrete

I find you, Aubrey,” Rhett’s voice booms through the room, closer now, thick with anger and a

27059

Chapter 167