My breath caught.
Because I knew that sound.
I didn’t need to see him.
I felt him.
Trigger was here. Tears gathered in my eyes. I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out loud.
The men who brought me to this place were about to learn exactly what that meant.
34
Rylie
The water kept rising.
Cold bit into my legs, then my waist, numbing everything below my ribs. The broken pipe screamed overhead, spraying chaos into the tunnel while men shouted blindly somewhere behind me.
And ahead—
Silence.
Not empty silence.
Controlled.
I knew the difference.
Trigger was close.
I could stay where I was. Press myself flat against the wall and wait for him to clear the tunnel, step by step, like he always did. Like a Ranger.
But waiting meant giving the men behind me time to regroup.
Waiting meant they might shoot wildly again.
Waiting meant someone could get hurt.
I exhaled slowly and made my choice.
I stepped away from the wall.
The water surged around my thighs, tugging at me as I waded forward into the black. My hands found the ladder only because I remembered it from earlier—rusted metal bolted into the wall, leading up to a maintenance hatch I’d barely registered in my panic.
I wrapped my fingers around the lowest rung.
The shout behind me came instantly.
“She’s moving!”
Gunfire erupted.
Bullets tore through water and concrete. Pain exploded across my shoulder as something grazed me—hot and sharp—but I didn’t stop.
I climbed.
Every rung screamed in protest. My hands slipped, skin screaming as rust tore into my palms. The ladder swayed.
