Eli shrugged. “He wanted out. He gave his own fear—he let go of the idea that he’d ever be free. He placed his own belief into the charm. The lock opened, not for him, but for something else.”
She brushed past him, the echo of his words lingering like a faint perfume.
A soft click sounded from the far end of the hallway—just a tiny, almost imperceptible click, as if a lock had shifted. Veronica frowned. She stood, flashlight in hand, and walked toward the source.
She turned to Eli. “What did Miguel want? And what did he give?”
Miguel looked up, his eyes wide but calm. “Guard,” he said, “you’re early.”
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