“What’s behind there?” I ask as he bends the sheet out of the way to get a good handhold, making it possible for him to rip the rest of the metal clean off the wall.
“Judging by the smell, it’s the old sewer line.”
“Holy shit.”
“Holy shit, alright,” he murmurs as we hear a commotion coming from deeper in C-block, telling me that the piece of rebar holding the other prisoners back has begun to fail.
“Come on,” Stone says, tossing the metal plate aside to reveal the old opening in the wall. It’s tight, but it’ll do. “We get one fucking shot at this, so you better not hold me back. I have no problem losing dead weight. Is that clear?”
I nod, nerves soaring through my stomach.
“Understand this, Aria. The guards and SWAT teams they have called in are trained to shoot first and ask questions later. If you make a sound or try to alert anyone, they will start shooting, and if they’re going to take me out, I’m going to ensure you come down right along with me. Got it?”
“Yeah, I got it.”
“Good. Then get in.”
11
STONE
The bricks around the old opening for the sewer line tear into my skin as I squeeze through the small gap. It was tight for Aria to get through, so for me, it’s almost impossible, but I didn’t get this far just to give up now. Besides, if a riot of prisoners and a walk-in fridge aren’t going to slow me down, then a few bricks aren’t going to be a problem.
“Shit,” Aria gasps, watching as I force myself through the gap, adjusting my shoulders to fit. “You’re cutting yourself.”
I ignore her concern. Pointing out the obvious isn’t helping the situation, and quite frankly, every time she opens her mouth, it just about sends me into a blind rage, because how the fuck can she stand next to me, look me in the damn eye, and claim that she doesn’t know who I am or what kind of history we have?
Fucking bullshit is what it is. One thing is for sure, I’ll be getting the truth out of her one way or another, and only when Ihave her full confession will I put her out of her misery and end her life.
Getting through the small opening, I glance over my torn shoulders and shrug it off. I’ve had worse. The only problem is that being in an old sewer line with open wounds isn’t ideal. It’s a bacterial feeding ground, so the sooner I can get out of here, the better.
Turning around, I peer back through the hole and into the kitchen that I vow never to set foot in again. “Yo, Doc. I’m gonna need you to push this fucker back into place.”
Doc sputters. “What now? I couldn’t even budge this thing if I tried. You’re on your own, Blackthorne.”
“Don’t give up on me now, Doc. You’ve got this,” I tell him, knowing he’s going to need far more convincing than that, but I don’t have the time to fuck around with this guy. The sooner Aria and I start making our way out of here, the better. We need to get as much distance as we can between us and the prison. It won’t be long before they realize we’re missing, and when they do, all hell is going to break loose. “Are you ready? On three.”
I reach through the hole and go to grip the back of the fridge to close up the gap, when Aria shoves her head through. “Wait. Wait. Wait,” she rushes out. “You there, Doc?”
“Is that you, pretty girl?” he questions.
Her face scrunches, and I can basically see the wordswho the fuck else would it becircling her head, but she bites them back and forces a smile. “Sure is, Doc. Before you go ahead and show me how strong you are, would you happen to have any food or water you could toss back here? Maybe a first aid kit?”
Banging from the jammed canteen door draws his attention, and he pauses. “Uhhh . . . I don’t know.”
“You’ve got time, Doc. Don’t worry about them,” I say.
“I . . . I don’t think this is a good idea.”
Fuck. We’re losing him.
“Oh, I have an idea,” Aria chimes in, leaning around the opening to smile at Doc. “You and I both know that Stone here isn’t planning on letting me live for long once we get out of this sewer line, so what if he promises to send you my uhhh . . . liver, perhaps? He could put it in one of those vacuum-sealed bags to keep it fresh so that you could do . . . uhhhh, whatever it is you like to do with it.”
“A liver?” he questions, still unsure.
“Which organ do you want, Doc?” I push.
“Intestines? They’re like slippery worms. Lots of fun to play with.”
