As ordered, she retrieves the knife. Then Avery and I move out into the corridor. I look both ways and don’t spot him, but the trail of blood is clear.
“This way.”
We follow the blood through the labyrinth. It feels like we’re going deeper into the earth, which freaks me out, but I know the psycho knows the quickest way out and needs to use it.
We hurry forward, with Avery occasionally bouncing off the walls.
“Please don’t stab me,” I say when she stumbles into me.
“No, no. I won’t.”
An earth-cracking blast knocks us both to the ground and shatters the lantern. Oil makes a line of flames for a moment as rocks and debris rain down on us.
In moments, the fire dies out, plunging us into blackness.
43
ERIK
An explosion rocks the tunnel, and I fall against the wall. Coughing on dust, I right myself.
My eyes strain. I’ve been following a pair of wheel tracks, probably from a wheel barrel. The tracks helped me navigate the branch points. Likewise, I hope my footprints will guide Shane because I’ve got no cell signal anymore. The rock is too dense.
When the dust settles, I look behind me. The footprints and wheel tracks have disappeared, but there’s no cave-in behind me, so our way out is still open.
I’m concerned Casanova may have somehow figured out I’m tracking him and set off a blasting cap to block me from reaching him and those girls.
My phone’s charge is only twenty-seven percent, but without using its flashlight app, I’m liable to miss a turn. Or a trip wire. He could have rigged the tunnels to collapse.
I don’t slow. Arya and Avery may be trapped, injured, and afraid. Jogging in the direction of the explosion takes me deeper into the tunnel.
A lone figure appears in the distance, covered in dust, and shuffling toward me. For a moment, I think it’s her, but no. It’s a shirtless man, holding something wrapped around his leg. The pant leg is soaked like he pissed himself.
I turn off my phone’s light, letting him approach with his flashlight.
He’s breathing hard. When he’s close enough for me to see that the wetness on his leg is splattered blood, I reach out and grab him. There’s nothing but a grunt as I slam him against the wall.
“Please,” he croaks. “You have to help us. He’s right behind me.”
“Who?”
“Casanova. He stabbed me. I’ve lost a lot of blood. Help me get to the surface.”
“Where are the girls?”
“Alive, but still back there. Locked in a room.” He coughs and then pants for breath. “Let go. I’ll get help.”
Is it the truth? He’s injured, but seasoned killers lie smoothly.
My eyes narrow. “I need you to show me the way.”
“Can’t. Can’t make it,” he says breathlessly.
I realize he’s shirtless because he’s using his shirt as a tourniquet for a slash near his groin. Most of the white shirt is soaked with blood.
As my gaze travels over him, I notice a thin scratch on his neck. Like the ones on my arms. Which were made by Arya’s nails.
He starts to pull free, but I tighten my grip. “Who are you?”
