I don’t know where our surge of courage comes from. Desperation, probably.
Pressa’s hand shoots out and seizes the guard’s wrist. Before he even has time to utter a shout of surprise, she yanks him hard inside the room and shoves him against the wall.
He gasps, then snarls at Pressa as he moves to grab her throat.
I strike him hard in the jaw before he can touch her.
If there’s anything I’ve learned from my brother, it’s how to throw a punch after getting jumped.
My hit lands true. The guard’s knees buckle, and everything in him goes limp as he slides slowly down to the floor.
Pressa gives me an impressed look. “Nice one,” she says.
I shrug. “The benefit of a brother who’s an AIS agent,” I reply.
We waste no time stealing out of the room and locking it behind us. Our clock is ticking now. There’s no going back. My steps quicken across the metal stairs leading to the upper levels of the building.
Here, I recognize the cavernous space that houses Hann’s construction site. Everything is cloaked halfway in shadows, as if silhouettes of guards are standing in every corner. We move slowly, startling at every stairway.
Finally, we arrive at the construction site I remember from when I’d first been held captive. The mazelike cavern full of rows of blinking machine lights is as ominous and mesmerizing as ever, the glow casting everything in the space in a dim blue hue.
I pull Pressa down beside me before she can reach the top landing of the steps. There, we crouch in the shadows, watching the two guards standing along the metal railing leading down to the main floor.
Pressa’s gaze sweeps the endless corridors of computers, her mouth slightly open at the sight. Then she glances at me. “How do we get down there?” she whispers, emphasizing the words soundlessly.
I glance at the guards. Their eyes are turned down toward the rest of the floor space. If we can just get past them, we’ll be able to lose ourselves in the maze of halls and make our way to the control platform located at the other end of the building.
I study the railings of the steps. If Daniel were here, he’d avoid the guards altogether and shimmy down the side of this railing, droppingquietly from floor to floor until he reached the ground below. They’d never even know he was here.
Before my brother took me on his run through the Lake district, I’d have even laughed at the idea of even attempting to do this. Now, though, I find myself looking at the landing, wondering if there’s a way I could at least get us one floor lower and bypass the guards. I may not have Daniel’s agility—but maybe I could find a way with my own tricks.
I begin shrugging off my jacket. Pressa glances curiously at me.
I gesture at her jacket, telling her to do the same, and then point at the railings beside us and then at the ground below.
Pressa blinks at me. “Are you out of your mind?” she whispers.
“If you want to fight those guards, be my guest,” I whisper back. Then I slide over to the metal bars of the railing and loop my jacket through the holes. The bottom of the railing is open just wide enough for me to slide through. It’s a tight squeeze, though.
Pressa watches me go for a moment before she comes over to join me.
I lie flat on my back and push through the bottom of the railing, then lower myself gingerly, the sleeves of my jacket wrapped tightly around my left fist. I dangle over the edge, a silhouette lost in the shadows. Up above, the guards don’t move.
I let myself swing a little back and forth. Then I let go. I catch myself against the lower floor’s railings and manage to land in a soft crouch. There I stay for a second, breathless, listening for the guards above to notice and mutter to each other. Nothing.
Pressa comes shortly after me. She hangs in midair for a beat too, before doing the same and crouching beside me. Her landing isquieter than mine, but one of her bootlaces clinks against the metal railing. The sound makes a tiny echo.
We freeze. For a second, we don’t hear anything.
Then one of the guards shifts above us. “That came from downstairs,” she says.
“Are you sure?” the second one answers. “It just sounded like the building shifting.”
“Probably.” The first guard starts to move. “I’ll take a quick look in case.”
We have to move, now. I grab Pressa’s hand and we start running as quickly as we can down the walkway toward the next flight of steps. Up above, the guard’s footsteps clank loudly on the stairs. If she reaches us before we can get to the lower floor, she’ll see us and sound the alarm.
We race on quiet feet down the flight of stairs. We make it to the ground floor just as the guard above us starts walking across the second-floor walkway. I look around. The maze of halls now stretches out all around in every direction.
