"Is it one of your mice, Commander?" I hear the Inquisitor. "Or do you have vermin slithering around beneath your gaze?"
The Commander coughs, "I don't—No one else should be here!"
I stare at the door, understanding who is behind it. And depending on my actions, it'll mean my death or war.
But I don't have the time or patience for either.
My hand whips across the room, putting my shoulder against one of the heavy bookcases, pushing against the door. The oak groans as I plant both feet and shove.
It topples, smothering the entry in a blizzard of books and splintered shelves. I throw more objects over the bookcase. I leap toward the Commander's desk, heaving it over the door. Books fly, ink splashes, the desk lands with a skull-rattling crash, crushing both the bookcase and the door.
It won't stop the Inquisitor from escaping, but it'll buy me time. But I need more.
I rip another kerosene lamp from the wall and hurl it. It shatters, oil splattering over the maps, the papers, the arm of a velvet chair. The stink is immediate, sharp, and violent.
On the far side of the barricade, the Commander is shouting. "You have to believe me, Inquisitor! The one behind the door is not affiliated with me."
The man is full of fear, for good reason. Even a Dauntless doesn't want to be caught in the crosshairs of an Inquisitor.
"Calm yourself, Commander. I don't believe you have the heart for subterfuge. This matter is different entirely."
I throw another lamp, this one aimed higher. It bursts, with glass raining over the desk, and I wedged. Oil soaks everything.
I hear the doorknob rattle, the door attempts to open, but the barricade impedes it.
"Inquisitor, the door won't open!"
"Calm down, Commander."
I hear heavy footsteps strolling toward the door. "Hear me, my good man behind the door, don't believe this'll keep me locked. I suggest for both of our sakes, it'll be beneficial to free us."
Inquisitor opens the door, but I kick against the barricade, smashing the door shut.
"This will not end well for you. I advise you to open the door and meet your fate with dignity."
The Inquisitor's voice is calm. Maddeningly so.
I hate it.
I reach down and snatch the pouch of sealing wax from the floor, shoving it into my coat. I look toward the oil and wait.
I see light illuminating so brilliantly, and then, the door frame shatters. Some of the barricade is thrown off.
I raise a palm, and wait three heartbeats.
My entire hand is wrapped in white flames—fire pulses beneath my skin. I shift toward the office's exit, moving toward it while still facing the door.
"I tried to be cordial, Commander, remember that when I destroy your office. This soul condemned themselves."
The Inquisitor waits one moment as the light grows more radiant. Then he says one command: "Open."
The world cracks in half.
The barricade is torn asunder by the light. The door explodes inward. The moment it does, I thrust my palm forward, the fire leaping from me to devour, to erase.
A blast of white and gold roars across the room—paper ignites, wood bursts into cinder, maps blacken in an instant. Flames leap hungrily for the oil-slicked walls, licking the barricade, the Commander's desk, every inch a funeral pyre.
The Inquisitor's light gleams even more luminously, covering him and the Commander.
The shockwave is massive.
Heat slams into my chest, thunder in my bones. The office shatters. Window glass shatters and blows outward.
I let the eruption carry me. The explosion shoots me through the exterior. The wooden structure warps around me, wood fracturing, obliterating the officer.
I land hard, pain blossoming in my side, rolling into the daylight. I twist my body, letting the boots find the street.
Smoke and ash are everywhere. Despite it, I see the Inquisitor's light.
Before it all settles, I dash, staying within the smoke. I veer a corner harshly, hiding between an alleyway yards away from the office.
I stare back toward the left at the destruction and see a dome of light standing over what's left.
Marines rush in from down the road, seeing the aftermath. They watch the dome of light disperse, seeing that the Inquisitor is holding the Commander.
"All of you, hear me! Shout the alarm! We have rebels amongst us. Lock down the Bruis! Let no ships leave. No cart, no man or woman set foot beyond these walls until the hand that struck at order is found and bound in chains. Find them! Search every thieving den, every brothel, gutter, smuggler, and traitors' nest—every shadow, and alley that hides the damned. Until the culprit is found, no one will leave Bruis!"
Damn it!
With the Inquisitor here… I need to find the boy… Cole. We have to escape Bruis.
Now.