Behind us, Webb laughs. Blood bubbles between his teeth.
"You think this changes anything?" He coughs, spraying red across the white floor. "You're still marked. All of you. The Silent never forgets. Never forgives. You'll spend the rest of your lives running, and one day—one day I'll find you—"
I turn. Level my gaze at the man who made me, who trained me, who thought he owned me.
"You won't find us," I say. "But if you do, I'll finish what I started tonight."
"Jace." Briar's voice is urgent. "Now."
I turn my back on Webb and half-carry Elliot out of the room.
The corridor stretches ahead, sterile and endless. Alarms begin to wail. Red lights flash. Footsteps pound somewhere in the distance, converging on our position.
"Left at the junction," Briar says, taking point. "Service elevator is fifty meters."
Elliot's legs keep buckling. I adjust my grip, pulling more of his weight onto my shoulder. He's lighter than he should be, lighter than when I last held him. Webb's hospitality has cost him pounds he didn't have to spare.
"Stay with me," I tell him. "We're almost out."
"Jace." His voice is a rasp. "The collar. You got it off."
"I got it off."
"I thought—" He breaks off, shuddering. "I thought I was going to die in there. I thought you'd have to watch."
"That was never an option."
We reach the junction. Briar checks both directions, signals left. We move.
Two guards appear at the far end of the corridor, weapons raised. Briar doesn't hesitate, he grabs his gun. Two shots, suppressed, both men dropping before they can return fire. He steps over their bodies without breaking stride.
"Elevator's ahead. Thirty seconds."
Twenty seconds later, a door bursts open to our right. Three more guards, fully armored, already firing.
I throw myself and Elliot behind a support pillar as bullets tear through the space where we'd been standing. Briar returns fire from the opposite wall, pinning two of them down.
The third flanks, coming at us from an angle I can't cover without exposing Elliot.
I pull my knife.
The guard rounds the pillar, weapon raised. I'm under his arm before he can adjust, blade finding the gap between his helmet and body armor. He drops.
"Move!" Briar shouts.
We run. Elliot's feet barely touch the ground, I'm practically carrying him now, his body limp against mine, consciousness fading.
The elevator doors slide open. We pile inside. Briar hits the button for street level, and the car lurches upward.
Elliot slumps against the wall, eyes unfocused. I crouch beside him, hands on his face, checking his pupils.
"Hey. Look at me. We're almost out."
"Tired," he mumbles. "So tired."
"I know. Just a little longer. Can you do that for me?"
His gaze sharpens, finds mine. The depths of his soul dance in the gold flecks.
