I straighten, knife clutched in my hand, and approach the door. My heart hammers against my ribs as I peer through the gap. The corridor beyond is dimly lit, concrete stretching away into shadows. I strain my ears, listening for footsteps, voices, any sign of Finn’s presence.
Nothing but silence. Is it a trap? A test? What if he’s waiting just around the corner, ready to punish me for attempting escape?
But what choice do I have? Stay here, wait for him to return, pray that Matteo somehow finds me before Finn carries out his threats?
I think of Matteo, of the fire that lives inside him. He’s looking for me. I know he is. But I can’t just wait to be rescued like some fairy-tale princess in a tower.
Decision made, I slip through the door, knife held ready in my good hand. The corridor is cold, the air heavy with the same damp, musty scent as my cell. I hug the wall, moving as silently as my weakened state allows, each step carefully placed to avoid making noise.
The hallway seems to stretch forever, darkness gathering in pools between the sparse, flickering lights overhead. I have no idea which way leads out. But each step takes me farther from that room, from Adam’s accusing stare, and hope builds with each foot of distance gained.
There’s a junction ahead where the hallway splits in two directions. I pause, trying to determine which way might lead to freedom. Left or right? A coin toss when my life is the wager.
I choose left, drawn by what might be a slightly fresher current of air, the faintest hint of something other than mildew and death.
Three steps into my chosen path, confidence growing with each moment I remain undiscovered, I collide with something solid and warm in the darkness.
My heart stops, the knife halfway raised in defense, as I find myself pressed against a body that’s neither corpse nor empty air.
I open my mouth to scream, but a hand is slapped over my mouth before I can make a sound.
Chapter 42
Matteo
“It’s me, Little Thief,” I whisper, feeling her body freeze against mine in the darkness.
My hand slides from her mouth, thumb brushing her split lip where blood has dried in a dark crust. For one endless second, she doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe. Then she collapses against me like her bones have liquified, her entire body shaking with silent, heaving sobs.
I catch her weight, pulling her against me so tightly I can feel her heart hammering through both our clothes, a frantic drumbeat perfectly matching my own.
“Matteo,” she croaks, voice broken and raw, like she’s been screaming for hours. Her fingers dig into my arms hard enoughto bruise, as if she’s afraid I might evaporate if she doesn’t anchor me to her. “You came… you found me.”
“I’ll always find you.” The promise tears from my throat, fierce and primal. I cup her face between my hands, tilting it up to mine.
“You’re really here,” she sobs.
Her mouth crashes against mine, desperate and hungry, tasting of copper and salt and survival. I kiss her back with equal ferocity, drinking in the proof that she’s alive, that she’s real, that she’s still mine.
She’s trembling so violently I can feel every bone in her body rattling against mine. “I thought…” She gasps between kisses. “I thought he was going to… he killed Adam right in front of me—”
“Shhh.” I press my forehead against hers, keeping one arm locked around her waist while the other hand tangles in her hair, cradling the back of her head. “You’re safe now, Little Thief. I’m getting you out of here.”
Her entire body goes rigid in my arms. “What do you mean by that? We’re both leaving, aren’t we?”
“I have to finish this,” I explain. “But there’s a back exit through the loading bay. Enzo and Piper are waiting with the car. I’m going to get you to them, and then I’m coming back to finish this.”
She pulls back just enough to glare up at me, her hands fisting in my shirt with surprising strength. “I’m not leaving you.”
“Raven—”
“No.” The single syllable scrapes out of her damaged throat, rough and immovable as stone. “Don’t you dare send me away.”
Only now do I notice my Little Thief is clutching something in her right hand—her knife. Her knuckles are white around the handle, like she’ll die before she lets it go.
“I’m trying to protect you,” I growl, frustration warring with the desperate need to get her somewhere safe. Every second westand here is another second Finn could appear, another second where I could lose her all over again.
“Look at me, Matteo.” She shoves the knife into her pocket and grabs my face with both hands, her palms slick with her own blood from the nasty-looking wounds on her wrists. “Look at me and tell me you could focus on killing that monster if you were worried about me making it out.”
