We throw ourselves at it. I hit the opening first, his hand still locked in mine as we twist sideways and shove into darkness. The stone scrapes my shoulder raw. Luke crashes in behind me, our bodies colliding as we tumble into the narrow space beyond. Our grip finally breaks as we fall.
The spotlight flares over the rock face outside, so bright I can see it through closed eyelids. Then it passes, sweeping onward, leaving us in utter blackness.
I’m panting. Gasping. Pressed so close to Luke that I can feel every heaving breath he takes. My mouth tastes like copper; I must have bitten my lip during the scramble. His breath is rough against my hair, his hands braced on either side of my shoulders to keep from crushing me entirely.
Neither of us moves.
The darkness is absolute. No light bleeds in from outside. Just the sound of our breathing and the frantic hammering of my heart.
My hand throbs where he held it. Where I didn’t want him to let go.
Then—voices. Faint. Mechanical. Filtered through comms equipment.
“Thermal traces confirmed. They’re alive.”
“Copy. Continuing grid sweep. They won’t last long in this cold.”
Luke goes rigid.
I press my hand over my mouth to muffle the sound of my breathing, but it doesn’t help. The drone saw us. The Syndicate knows exactly where we went.
“They know we’re here,” Luke mutters against the dark.
Chapter 9
Luke
The darkness inside this crack in the mountain is unnerving. No thermal gradients to read. No ambient light to process. Just black pressing against my eyes and the sound of Ember’s breathing, two inches from my face.
Too fast. Too close.
I count ten seconds before moving. Enough time to let the drone’s spotlight fade. Enough time to verify the agents aren’t doubling back.
Not enough time to forget the gasp that escaped her before I covered her mouth. Or the way her lips felt against my palm: soft, warm, completely at odds with the cold stone and danger pressing in from every side.
It’s just an assignment, Kenan.
Professional necessity. Nothing more.
I release her and shift backward, putting space between us in the narrow fissure. My shoulder scrapes rock. The gap’s tighterthan I calculated; maybe eighteen inches at the widest point. We’re wedged in here, and getting out won’t be quick if things turn bad.
And I need to get away from the heat of her body, from the way every nerve ending lit up when she pressed against my chest.
Get your head straight, dammit.
“Stay with me,” I say. Voice low. No wasted words.
She doesn’t respond immediately. I hear her breathing even out, controlled and deliberate. Training kicking in. Good. Panic gets people killed.
So does distraction.
“Where are we going?” she finally whispers.
I pull out my pocket torch, military-grade, red filter to preserve night vision. The beam illuminates rough stone walls that angle downward into deeper darkness. The fissure continues past where we stopped, narrowing as it descends.
In the red light, Ember’s face is all shadows and angles. A smudge of dirt across her cheekbone. Hair escaping from where she tied it back. Eyes watching me with trust I haven’t earned.
“Deeper,” I manage.
