And now?
So had I.
33
Rylie
The tunnels smelled worse than the room they’d kept me in.
Stagnant water. Rust. Something organic that had been rotting for a long time. The concrete walls closed in as I ran, pipes hissing overhead like the place itself was alive—and angry I was inside it.
Bare feet slapped against cold cement. I didn’t slow down.
Behind me, boots thundered. Too many. Shouting bounced off the walls, distorted and overlapping.
They were herding me.
I knew it the second I reached the junction.
Three tunnel mouths. One partially collapsed. One pitch dark. One lit by a flickering bulb that hummed like it was seconds from dying.
They wanted the light.
Because light meant control.
I took the dark.
I slid sideways into it just as a flashlight beam sliced through the air where I’d been. A shout followed—surprise, then anger.
Gunfire cracked behind me. Concrete exploded inches from my shoulder, spraying grit and dust. I screamed—not from pain, but from instinct—and forced my legs to move faster.
The tunnel narrowed.
Water pooled around my ankles, icy and slick. I nearly went down but caught myself on the wall, skin tearing from my palm.
I didn’t stop.
I counted turns. Left. Right. Slight incline.
Air shifted.
Fresh.
Hope flared—dangerous, bright.
Then I heard it.
A metal clang ahead.
A door slamming shut.
“No—” I gasped, skidding to a halt just as a heavy steel gate dropped from the ceiling with a violent crash.
Dead end.
My chest heaved as I spun around.
Three men emerged from the darkness behind me, guns raised, flashlights blinding. One of them smiled—slow, cruel.
