“My pack will come for me. Ryker doesn’t abandon his people.”
Her loyalty is fascinating. In my experience, pack bonds are rarely so strong.
“What about you?” she asks.
I hesitate. Names have power, especially in a place like this. I’ve kept mine close for years, offering the guards only silence or sarcasm.
“Not important,” I say finally.
“Really? We’re doing this? I tell you who I am, and you give me nothing?”
“Consider it a trust-building exercise.” I lean against the wall, feeling more alert than I have in months. “I’ve been here long enough to know that caution keeps you alive.”
“Fine,” she huffs. “Keep your secrets, mystery man. But if we’re going to be neighbors, I need to call you something.”
“Call me whatever you want.”
“How about ‘Paranoid Asshole’?”
I laugh, genuinely amused. “Catchy, but a bit of a mouthful, don’t you think?”
“I could shorten it to ‘Ass.’”
“Now you’re just being lazy.”
I hear what might be a reluctant chuckle from her side of the wall, quickly stifled. “Fine. ‘Nomad’ it is, then.”
“How’d you know I’m a nomad?”
“Call it a hunch.’”
I want to ask her name, but naming my hallucinations feels like crossing a line I’m not quite ready for.
We fall into silence, only the scraping sound filling the void. It’s not uncomfortable. I’m still not entirely convinced she’s real, but talking to her is better than sitting here in silence.
“So, Nomad,” she says after a while, “since you’ve been here so long, what can you tell me about this place? Guards? Routines? Weaknesses?”
“Four guards on rotation in this section. Two per shift,eight-hour shifts. The morning pair is the worst—the younger one likes to get creative. The night shift is older, more by-the-book.”
“And the facility itself?”
“Old mining complex. Repurposed by Thaddeus. Three levels that I know of, possibly more. We’re on the lowest.”
“Exits?”
I smile at her hope—foolish she-wolf. “Planning your escape already?”
“Always,” she says without a hint of humor.
Maybe this voice is my hope personified. Maybe it’s the part of me that doesn’t want to give up, the part that will always be looking for an exit.
Or maybe I’m full of shit.
“Main entrance is heavily guarded. Service tunnels might be viable, but I’ve never seen them. There’s an old mining shaft somewhere on this level, sealed off decades ago.”
She falls quiet. I hear her shifting, then another scraping sound.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
