"I do not build cages that I cannot open," I murmur, reaching into a hidden compartment inside the entryway.
I pull out a heavy, waterproof tactical duffel bag—a bug-out kit prepared specifically for a catastrophic breach. I sling the heavy strap diagonally across my chest, resting the bag against my right hip to avoid the ruined, bleeding mess of my left shoulder. From the same compartment, I retrieve a high-powered tactical flashlight and a spare 9mm Glock.
I turn back to her. She is shivering, the thin cotton t-shirt offering absolutely no protection against the rapidly dropping temperature of the bunker.
I open the duffel bag with one hand and pull out a thick, heavy black tactical jacket lined with fleece.
"Put this on," I command.
She doesn't argue. She slides her trembling arms into the sleeves. The jacket completely swallows her, the hem hitting below her knees, but it immediately insulates her body heat. I zip it up to her chin.
"The tunnel is exactly one mile long," I tell her, my pale eyes locking onto hers, forcing her to focus entirely on my voice and not the collapsing world around us. "It inclines upward. It will exit into the dense forest on the northern edge of the property, well beyond the electrified perimeter. The terrain will be rough, and the storm is severe. You do not let go of my hand, Sybil. If you fall, I will pick you up. If you cannot walk, I will carry you. Do you understand?"
"You can't carry me," she argues, her voice cracking as her eyes dart back to my shoulder. "You're losing too much blood. You're pale, Thayer."
"Do you understand the instructions, Sybil?" I repeat, my volume rising into a dark, unforgiving growl, completely shutting down her argument.
"Yes," she whispers, nodding frantically.
"Good."
I take her hand again, my grip an iron manacle. I click on the tactical flashlight, the blinding white beam cutting through the absolute darkness of the tunnel. We step inside, and I press the internal button. The heavy concrete wall slides shut behind us, locking with a definitive, hollow echo, entirely sealing us off from the bunker.
The air in the tunnel is freezing, smelling of damp earth and ancient stone. The passageway is narrow, forcing us to walk close together. My left arm hangs uselessly at my side, a dead, throbbing weight that sends fresh waves of nausea rolling through my stomach with every step I take.
We move quickly, the silence broken only by the rapid, jagged sound of our breathing and the heavy, rhythmic thud of my boots against the dirt floor.
I calculate the variables as we walk. The Capos are currently engaged in a brutal firefight in the compound above. Dante will hold the line. He is a ruthless bastard, and he knows that if he fails, I will resurrect myself from hell just to kill him. But the Commission is entirely focused on eliminating the perceived weakness of the Thorne Syndicate. They are entirely focused on Sybil.
My vision blurs. A dark, terrifying wave of dizziness washes over me, making my boots drag heavily against the dirt. I stumble, my right shoulder slamming hard into the rough rock wall of the tunnel.
"Thayer!" Sybil cries out, immediately using both of her hands to grip my waist, bracing her small body against mine to keep me from collapsing. "Stop. You need to stop."
"Keep moving," I grind out, the words tasting like copper on my tongue. I force myself upright, completely relying on the raw, burning adrenaline of my obsession to fuel my failing muscles.
I cannot drop here. If I drop here, she is trapped underground with a corpse.
I push forward, dragging her with me. The incline grows steeper, the physical exertion completely draining the remaining reserves of my strength. The blood is soaking through my pants now, trailing in dark, heavy drops onto the dirt floor.
After what feels like an eternity of agonizing, blinding pain, the beam of the flashlight catches the heavy steel grate sealing the end of the tunnel.
We made it.
I release Sybil’s hand, staggering forward. I reach up with my right hand, gripping the heavy locking mechanism of the grate. It requires massive physical strength to disengage. I grit my teeth, a feral, animalistic snarl tearing from my throat as I throw the entire weight of my body into my right arm.
The metal groans, the rust breaking. I shove the grate upward and outward.
The moment the steel gives way, the violent, freezing wrath of the storm completely invades the tunnel. Torrential, icy rain lashes across my face, accompanied by the deafening roar of the wind tearing through the ancient pines.
I climb out of the hole, my boots sinking ankle-deep into the freezing mud of the forest floor. The cold is a catastrophic shockto my system, instantly biting into my bones and completely exacerbating the shock of my blood loss.
I turn back, reaching down into the darkness. "Take my hand."
Sybil reaches up. I grab her forearm and haul her out of the earth. She stumbles into the freezing rain, the heavy tactical jacket instantly plastered to her small frame. The forest is entirely pitch-black, a terrifying, endless ocean of towering trees and violent weather.
I reach down with my boot and kick the steel grate back into place. I drag a heavy layer of dead branches and mud over the metal, completely concealing the exit.
"Where are we going?" she yells over the roar of the wind, her hands coming up to shield her face from the biting rain.
