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“Depends on how much filet mignon you ate last night,” he said as I cautiously stepped onto his shoulder.
The walls were freezing cold, and sparkles of frost danced on the stone in front of me. My eyes barely reached the opening.
I fished out my flashlight and thrust it forward. The beam lit up a small carved stone box, covered in symbols that resembled the ones on the walls. I reached forward to take it, my head echoing with Father’s favorite words, “Trust me, Aliyah …”
Something was scrabbling against my stomach. I nearly fell.
Safi.
Her pinprick claws danced up my sleeve, and in an instant she was climbing onto the ledge. Pain shot up my arm, and I let out an involuntary yelp. Safi squeaked and threw herself backward over my face, her claws buried in my scalp. My arms windmilled as I tried to get my balance back. I reached upward. Clasping the box, I toppled off Osman’s shoulders.
I hit the ground with a thump. I blinked my eyes to see Osman standing over me, his flashlight trained on the box, which lay on my chest.
“What’s inside it?” he asked.
“I’m fine, thank you very much!” I snapped.
He was already on his knees, reaching for the box. “Ali, you’re a genius. We’re rich. We’ll split this fifty-fif—”
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