The voices fade. I think they’re gone. My hearing’s going in and out. I allow myself to look where Arsen stood, and I see it.
A glint of metal in the grime.
A lock pick.
For a second, I don’t believe it. My vision blurs. I blink, blink again. It’s still there.
Arsen…he left it.
My limbs scream as I move. I crawl—barely more than a drag. My broken fingers twitch toward it. I close my fist around the pick, whimpering as the bones shift inside my hand. I roll back to the corner, collapsing against the wall with a thud.
Thank you, Arsen.
I lift my hands. My wrists are shredded—skin flayed where the cuffs rubbed raw. My grip fumbles. I can’t even tell if I’m holding it right.
But I try.
I try because it’s the only thing I have left.
The cuffs open. My arms fall like deadweight as they fall at my side.
Still chained at the ankles.
Still bleeding.
Still wrecked.
But now I have a chance.
And for the first time in days…
I want it.
I don’t knowhow much time has passed. If it’s day. If it’s night. Time doesn’t exist down here—just pain. Hunger. Fear.
But I press my ear to the steel door, listening.
Nothing.
Not a single footstep in the corridor.
My heart races. My body trembles. But this is it. My only fucking shot.
I’ve memorized every inch of the hallway outside. At least—IthinkI have. My brain feels fogged. But I can still see the map in my mind. The elevator’s maybe thirty feet from here. Around the corner is the stripping room—where I saw them taking clothes off prisoners when I first arrived.
I’ll find something. Anything.
My bare feet sting against the cold floor as I ease the door open.
It creaks.
I freeze, breath lodged in my throat.
Please.Please.Don’t let there be anyone out there.
My eyes adjust slowly. The lights above buzz in a sickening flicker—but the hallway’s empty. Quiet.
I run.
