Before we claimed her.
And if Bram didn’t like it, well… Bram Montgomery could go fuck himself.
7
CASSIE
I’d been runningfor a while when I saw a purple glow up ahead. It was the first light I’d encountered that didn’t come from my phone, and I slowed down, panting and out of breath, relieved to see more than a few feet of the tunnel illuminated around me.
The purple light came from a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, and I slowed down to look around and get my bearings. I’d gotten only glimpses of the tunnel when I’d been running with my flashlight, but now, in the amethyst wash of the bulb, I could see it clearly for the first time.
The walls were made of stone that rose to an arched ceiling overhead, the floors a mix of dirt and loose rock. And there was something else: chains attached to the ceiling, ending in thick cuffs, clearly intended to immobilize someone with their arms over their head.
I forced myself to push aside the thought. “Just keep moving, Cassie.”
The tunnels stretched out behind and in front of me, but I was also standing at a crossroads, more tunnels stretching to both the right and the left.
I cursed myself for not keeping track of my direction as I ran: I had literally zero idea where I was under Blackwell Falls.
I leaned against the wall, trying to catch my breath, and felt the cold stone seep into my skin through my jeans and hoodie. I didn’t remember turning while I’d been running. Julia and I had run straight before she’d left me to venture out on her own, and I’d continued along the straightaway until I’d come to the purple light.
It was possible the tunnel had curved so gently I hadn’t noticed it, especially while I’d been running at full speed, but I didn’t think so.
Assuming it hadn’t, assuming I’d been running straight, I was probably somewhere under the north side — my side — of Main Street. I might even be right under the coffee shop, Cassie’s Cuppa and my apartment quiet and empty right above me.
It also meant I was a sitting duck for any of the teams of men hunting in the tunnels. I needed to get out of the main artery leading from the holding room.
I pushed off the wall and looked both ways before going left, which I assumed would take me under the road itself and over to the businesses across the street from the coffee shop.
And now the purple lights were spaced every ten feet or so, patches of light with stretches of shadow in between. I didn’t hear anyone behind me, but I knew from my phone that my five-minute head start had expired. The men would be in the tunnels now.
Hunting.
I slipped my phone into my pocket and broke into a jog, thankful I’d worn sneakers instead of something heavier like the boots I’d coveted on the blonde in the holding room. Boots would have offered more protection, but they also would have slowed me down, and it was becoming apparent that speed was an advantage in the Hunt.
I’d been running less than a minute when water burst from the ceiling, a cold spray that soaked my body in seconds.
I stopped in shock and looked down at the clothes plastered to my skin. “What thefuck?”
Panic washed over me. What if the tunnels filled with water while we were in them?
I squinted through the water still spraying from the ceiling, looking for the source of the leak, and finally spotted a tiny silver spout set into the stone.
Sprinklers.
Those assholes had installed sprinklers in the tunnels, and I had a feeling it wasn’t to meet some kind of fire code.
I started jogging again, hoping to get away from the frigid water, but the sprinklers were set into the ceiling every few feet, making it impossible to escape the icy spray. I couldn’t afford to stand still though — that was what the hunters wanted, to immobilize us, to slow us down — so I kept running, racing through cold and darkness, holding my hands out in front of me so I didn’t run into anything in between the patches of light that appeared like purple beacons out of the darkness.
And then, as suddenly as the water had started spraying, it stopped.
I stopped running, gasping for breath, the sound of water dripping in a chorus of echoes off the stone.
I only felt a moment’s relief before I started shivering.
Shit. My hair hung in wet ropes around my shoulders. I was soaked, every article of clothing — including my hoodie, which I’d brought to keep me warm — drenched with the freezing water that had sprayed from the ceiling.
I forced myself to move. I couldn’t afford to stand still, and moving would at least generate some body heat.
