“Now!” I shout.
He moves at the wall and slams his hand onto a fracture line. He digs his fingers into the weakened stone and wrenches, pulling loose a chunk that destabilizes the entire section.
The ceiling cracks—sharp and loud. The creature explodes into the room as the tunnel comes down.
Stone collapses across its back and shoulders, driving it lower, forcing its limbs into angles they weren’t built for, pinning parts of it in place again. Dust fills the air, and the ground shudders.
I cough, dropping low, covering my mouth against the grit filling the air.
“Did we?—”
“No.”
Again. Always no.
Through the haze, I see it moving. The eye flickers, then stabilizes—brighter and sharper. It shifts between us. Back and forth. I realize then it’s recording.
“It’s learning us.”
“Yes.”
Behind it, through the broken tunnel, something else moves. Distant, but not far enough.
“There’s more.”
“Yes.”
We don’t speak for a second. We don’t need to, because the answer is already there in both of us. We don’t have time. We don’t have space. We don’t have?—
A sharp intake of breath cuts the thought off. Not mine. His.
I turn, and he’s standing, but something’s wrong. He’s worse than before. Pressing one hand hard against his side. The blood is darker and seeping through faster—soaking the bandage, dripping to the ground.
“Kael—”
He sways. It’s slight, then more.
“No.”
I’m not fast enough to reach him before he drops. He doesn’t catch himself, hitting the ground hard—and he doesn’t get back up. Everything in me goes cold. His eyes are open, but not steady.
“Stay with me,” I say, sharper now, not giving him a chance to slip away. “You don’t get to check out now.”
His gaze flickers.
“Marked,” he says.
“What?”
His hand lifts, shaking, and points past me. I look through the dust and broken stone. Through the thing still trying to free itself.
The eye burns—not searching. Locked on us.
22
LEENA
The eye doesn’t move. It’s locked and steady, like it knows where we’ll be next. My stomach drops, but there’s no time.
