5
Caroline pressedher head against the metal rung of the ladder, cold sweat dripping down her temples despite the heat simmering through the tunnel. She fought hard against the panic battering her senses, but it was a losing battle.
She had never had a true panic attack before, but she was smart enough to recognize the signs. Her heart was pounding so hard and fast that dizziness clouded her vision. Whatever tiny amount of air had been in the tunnel before had completely disappeared. She couldn’t breathe or even think.
It seemed as though Reaper had been gone for hours and the utter and complete silence up above was a nightmare.
It had been ages since she’d heard gunshots or screams or yells or anything. There was just silence. And the unknown was even more frightening. Had someone taken him out the minute he shut the lid? Was he bleeding out feet above her head? Even now, he could be dead or dying all alone.
Like vultures, the guards could be circling the tunnel, waiting on her to come out. Coward that she was, she was frozen to the spot, her hand superglued to the ladder as she fought desperately not to pass out.
This was how she was going to die—alone and in the dark. Unless they found her. And if they found her, they’d strap her to that tiny cot again and they’d drain her dry.
The thought sent a shudder through her already overworked body.
No, she had to focus. She wouldn’t let them take her back there; she’d rather die. What if she could help Reaper?
Come on Caroline, don’t be a complete wuss now. Move.
The thought screamed through her mind, but her body didn’t cooperate, not even an inch. Maybe she was focusing on too big of a task. She needed to narrow it down. Start small.
Her harsh breathing masked out all other sound as she zeroed in on her fingers. She had to get them to unlatch from the ladder. Focusing hard on the tightly curled fingers on her left hand, she slowly loosened them, pain radiating through her joints from holding the white-knuckled grip for so long. She released her left hand’s hold.Okay, good job. Now the right.
Her fingers slowly uncurled. Her head dropped back down to the ladder and she sucked in a deep breath, expending more energy than she thought just to do that.
She tilted her head back, looking up even though she knew she wouldn’t be able to see an inch in front of her face. It was completely black, no hint of light. Nothing. Darkness squeezed around her, feeding her panic. But before she could let that helpless fear take hold, she grabbed the next rung on the ladder and pulled herself up. Focusing on the mechanics, Caroline put another hand up, and—
She didn’t feel the next rung at first, and a surge of fear edged out everything else. What little control she’d managed to get over her lungs evaporated. She was panicking, gasping, clutching for the ladder. Dear God. She couldn’t do this.
An image of her father flashed through her mind—he was sitting at his desk in rolled-up shirt sleeves and blue jeans. His smile was so relaxed and warm. Loving.
And then that welcoming image was replaced with Reaper’s harsh and unyielding face. He wouldn’t let her give up if he were here. He’d tell her to fight. Punish these assholes. Was she really going to give up after he risked his life for her?
Not today, she wasn’t. She felt for the next rung again, grabbed it this time, and yanked herself up. Crawling faster and faster. She had one goal in mind—get the hell out of this deathtrap.
Her head slammed into the door overhead and tears pricked her eyes. “Ow!”
Pain radiated through her skull again and she rubbed the spot where she’d hit the metal. She’d focused so much on escaping, she’d forgotten to stick her hand up and test overhead. But the pain was worth it. She’d reached her goal. Only a couple of inches of doorway blocked her from the outside air. Victory lapped at her nerves as she grabbed the handle and yanked.
It didn’t budge. She yanked again and again. She braced her legs on the ladder and used both hands, throwing her entire body weight behind it. It still didn’t move.
Panic surged through her veins and she shoved with all her might.
The door was suddenly wrenched from her grip, and she floundered for the ladder, barely avoiding a backward plummet that would have killed her. Reaper’s savage face, highlighted by the bright, piercing sun behind him, looked down at her.
“Oh thank God! Thank God you came back.” She was blubbering, but she didn’t care. Reaper had come back for her, and he wasn’t dead or dying. They were going to make it.
He extended his hand to her, “Take my hand.”
Before she had time to get a good grip on it, he was yanking her out of the tunnel and depositing her on her feet. It was the first time she’d been outside in . . . well, she didn’t know how long, but there was no time to think about that. The air was still thick and heavy with smoke.
Reversing, she saw the mangled and bloodied bodies around the entrance. “Oh no.” And it was then she noticed the blood on her hand. Blood from Reaper. She swung around to look at him, saw the blood soaking his shirt right before her eyes. “You’re hurt!”
He glanced down as if an annoying bug had bitten him. “It’s nothing. We’ve got to move.”
“You’re covered in blood,” she said breathlessly and reached for his shoulder. His large hand wrapped around her wrist like a vise, stopping her mid-air.
“We have to go.” He glanced over her head. “Now.”
