Bullets peppered the wall above us, sending splinters flying. I grabbed Rooster's sleeve and pulled him back into the passage, motioning urgently for Bear to follow. He squeezed his bulk through the opening, the panel sliding closed behind him, sealing us in darkness once more.
I led them through the maze of passages, my lynx vision cutting through the gloom with ease. For me, this darkness was safety, comfort—the kind of space where I'd hidden from threats most of my life. But I could feel Rooster's growing distress behind me, his breathing becoming shallow and quick. His hand, still clasped in mine, grew slick with sweat.
When we reached the junction that would take us toward the common room, I paused, listening. The walls here were thinner, letting in the sounds of gunfire and shouting. I could make out Gunner's voice barking orders, the position of Victor's men by their footfalls above and around us.
I turned to check on Rooster and found his face ashen in the faint light filtering through a crack in the wall. His chest heaved with rapid, shallow breaths, eyes wide with panic.
"Tight spaces," Bear muttered, his voice surprisingly gentle despite the circumstances. "Rooster's never done well with them."
I hadn't known this about my mate—this fear he carried. I'd spent my life seeking out precisely these kinds of spaces, the tighter and more hidden the better. But for Rooster, with his bear's need for open air and freedom, this cramped darkness was its own kind of prison.
Without thinking, I released his sleeve and found his hand instead, squeezing gently. His eyes found mine in the darkness, panic swimming in their depths. I placed my other hand over his heart, feeling its frantic rhythm beneath my palm. Then I took aslow, deliberate breath, holding his gaze, silently urging him to match my pace.
He tried, his breath shuddering as he fought against the panic. I kept my hand over his heart, my own pulse steady and calm, a counterpoint to his fear. Gradually, his breathing slowed, syncing with mine.
"I'm okay," he whispered, though the tremor in his voice suggested otherwise. "Just keep going. Don't worry about me."
But I did worry. This man who had left food for me when I was nothing but a shadow at the edge of his world, who had never demanded or pushed or grabbed—he mattered to me in ways I was only beginning to understand.
I tugged his hand gently, pulling him forward, but kept my pace slower now. When dirt showered down from a bullet impact above, I reached back instinctively, brushing the debris from his beard before it could catch in his eyes.
The passage narrowed further as we approached the common room. Bear's bulk became a serious impediment, his shoulders scraping both walls as he hunched forward, cursing under his breath. Rooster wasn't much smaller, both men forced to contort themselves to fit through spaces that accommodated my slender frame with ease.
"Jesus," Bear muttered as another shower of dirt cascaded down when bullets thudded into the ground above. "How much farther?"
I held up three fingers, then pointed forward. Three more turns and we'd reach the panel that opened into the storage closet adjacent to the common room.
"How the hell did you find these tunnels, kid?" Bear asked, his voice strained from the uncomfortable position. "We've been here for years and never knew they existed."
I couldn't answer with words, so I tapped my nose, then my ears. When he looked confused, I mimicked sniffing along thewalls, then pressed my ear against the passage, showing him how I'd discovered the hollow spaces through senses honed by years of survival.
"Christ," Bear muttered, a new respect in his tone. "You've been watching us this whole time, haven't you? All those months when Rooster was trying to coax you in with food. You were already inside."
Not quite accurate, but close enough. I nodded, then continued forward, pulling Rooster along behind me. His breathing had steadied somewhat, though his hand still trembled in mine.
When we reached a particularly low section of tunnel, I guided his head down with gentle pressure on his shoulder, helping him navigate the space that was second nature to me but alien to him.
The final turn brought us to another panel. I pressed my ear against it, listening carefully for movement on the other side. The storage closet should be empty, but I'd learned long ago that assumptions led to death.
Satisfied it was clear, I located the mechanism and prepared to open it. But before I did, I turned back to Rooster, studying his face in the dim light. The panic had receded, replaced by determination, but I could still feel his discomfort in the tight space.
I reached up, brushing my fingers across his cheek in a gesture so intimate it surprised even me. His eyes widened slightly, understanding crossing his features. He nodded once, silently acknowledging my concern.
"I'm good," he whispered. "Lead on, baby boy."
The nickname that had once made me flinch now felt like a lifeline—a connection to something beyond the blood and gunfire waiting on the other side of this panel. I squeezed his hand once more, then turned to the mechanism, ready to rejointhe fight that threatened everything this man and his family had built.
Everything that, somehow, against all odds and my better judgment, I now found myself fighting to protect as well.
* * * *
The fresh air hit my lungs like a blessing as we emerged from the tunnel into the moonlit woods behind Gearhead's garage. After the suffocating closeness of the passage, the open space felt like freedom, though I knew better than most that open spaces meant exposure.
I crouched low automatically, scanning our surroundings with practiced efficiency. The others followed me out, Rooster's shoulders relaxing visibly as he escaped the confines of the tunnel, Bear and Gunner close behind, weapons ready.
Gunfire still echoed from the direction of the clubhouse, muzzle flashes illuminating windows like deadly lightning. I needed height, perspective—the advantage that had kept me alive for fifteen years.
Without hesitation, I moved to the nearest pine tree, a towering sentinel with branches spaced perfectly for climbing.
