She dropped below me, and I climbed past her, our bodies pressed together in the narrow space, her breath hot against my jaw. I reached up, planted my shoulder under the hatch, and drove upward with everything left in my legs, back, and shoulders, summoning a strength I wasn’t sure I still possessed.
For one long, agonizing second—nothing. Only resistance. Rusted hinges indifferent to our survival.
Then a groan of metal as it burst open.
Gray light and cold rain poured through the gap. I pulled it into my lungs as if I’d been starved, never so glad to see a storm in my life.
“Go!” I reached down, locked my hand around Libby’s arm, and hauled her up and past me in one motion. She scrambled through the opening, fingers clawing at the wet concrete lip, and pulled herself out onto solid ground above.
I followed, driving myself up the last two rungs as the water hit the underside of the hatch beneath my boots—one final surge, furious at being denied.
I kicked free, cleared the opening, and slammed the hatch shut behind me with both hands.
Then I went down.
The concrete came up hard against my back, and I let it. Cold. Rain drove into my face. My chest heaved, my arms had nothing left, and the sky pressed down on the city as if it meant to flatten what remained of it. Every breath burned.
Beside me, Libby lay on her back, chest heaving, an uncontrollable tremor running through her. Her hair splayed dark against the concrete. Her eyes stared straight up at the sky—wide, glassy, and present.
Alive.
I rolled toward her and pulled her in. Her hand found my chest the way it had on the rooftop, pressing flat against the frantic hammering of my heart.
“You good?” It came out rough, less a question than a demand for confirmation.
She nodded against me—once, then again, as if she needed to convince herself as much as to answer me.
“Yeah,” she got out, her breath shuddering. She pressed her face against my chest. “Yeah.”
I dragged a hand down my face, clearing water, blood, and grit from my eyes.
“Next time,” I said, my voice rough, “no tunnels. Not in a storm.”
Libby made a sound against my shoulder—half a laugh. She turned her face into me, her forehead pressing hard against my shoulder, still shaking.
Her voice was muffled against my shoulder. “Deal.”
My arm tightened around her. I pressed my mouth to the top of her head and stayed there, breathing her in through the rain, rot, and rust, finding something underneath it all that was just her. The city drowned around us, and the margin by which we’d survived narrowed in my mind.
Fifteen
Look At Me -Libby
Finn’s hand closed around mine, and he hauled me to my feet.
The rain hadn’t let up; if anything, it had gotten worse. Water ran into my eyes, down my collar, and soaked through my shoes, so each step squelched, and my socks bunched under my toes. My jacket, heavy and sodden, was now merely a weight pulling at my shoulders.
I trembled.
“Do you know where we are?” Finn asked, already moving, his eyes sweeping the street in both directions before I could answer. He released my elbow.
I forced myself to focus.
Think, Libby. Don’t spiral.
Wiping a hand across my eyes, I turned into the downpour, squinting hard at the street signs on the corner. The letters swam, blurred by water, exhaustion, and the long, crashing tail of adrenaline—
Wait…I knew this intersection. I knew exactly where I stood.
