“You sure?”
No. I’m not sure of anything except that standing here much longer means getting caught.
“As sure as I can be.”
Luke studies me for another beat. Then nods once, decisive. “Left it is.”
For a moment, I feel a flare of satisfaction that he’d take my advice. Like it’s some sort of validation. It occurs to me that I’ve spent my life surrounded by people who’ve told me what to do. It’s odd to have the tables turned. I like it.
For God’s sake, it’s just a tunnel, Ember.
A tunnel that could lead to our death.
But he moves into the narrow passage without hesitation. I follow, ducking under an outcrop of rock that juts from the ceiling like a broken tooth.
The walls press close immediately. Too close. I have to turn sideways in places to fit through gaps that Luke navigates easily. The floor slopes sharply downward, slick with moisture that makes every step precarious.
My ankle—the one I twisted yesterday or the day before, time has lost meaning down here—protests with each jarring step. I bite down on the pain and keep moving.
The passage narrows further.
“Luke—”
“I see it.” His voice comes from somewhere ahead, tight with tension. “There’s a squeeze point about ten feet in. We’ll need to crawl.”
Crawl. Through wet rock in the dark with Syndicate agents potentially above us, and no idea what’s on the other side.
Perfect.
Luke’s already ducked low when I reach the restriction. He sinks to all fours. The gap is maybe eighteen inches high. Just enough to slide through if you don’t mind the rock scraping your back and stomach simultaneously.
He disappears into it without a word.
I drop to my knees. The stone is freezing through my pants, instantly soaking through to my skin. I flatten myself and start to crawl.
The ceiling presses down immediately. Rock against my spine. Against my skull when I don’t keep my head low enough. The walls so close on either side that I can’t expand my ribs fully to breathe.
My heart starts to hammer.
Don’t think about it. Just move.
I pull myself forward with my elbows. Inch by inch through the dark. Luke’s torch beam somewhere ahead is the only thing keeping full panic at bay.
Then the rock above me shifts.
Not much. Just a faint grinding sound followed by a rain of small stones against my back.
I freeze.
“Luke?”
“Keep moving.” His voice is closer than I expected. “Structure’s unstable. We need to get through.”
Another grinding sound. Louder this time.
The ceiling drops.
Just an inch, but I feel it against my spine like a hand pressing down. Trapping me.
