Matt was outside the castle now, his boots eating up at the gravel as he sprinted toward the abandoned building. His eyes were locked on the dark silhouette rising against the bruised night sky, every fiber of his being focused on reaching it.
Then there was the movements. Uneasy, unwelcoming slow movements. At the edge of his vision.
He stopped. Turned. Followed the shifting shadow until it resolved into a figure standing just a few yards away, blocking his path like a badly placed piece of furniture.
The man tapped his earpiece, muttered something inaudible—probably instructions probably the kind of thing people said in movies right before they got punched—and then looked up at Matt with a mocking half smile that begged to be wiped off.
"Hey, man." The man spread his hands like a used car salesman welcoming a customer. "I'm just doing my job."
