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And now?

So had I.

33

Rylie

The tunnels smelled worse than the room they’d kept me in.

Stagnant water. Rust. Something organic that had been rotting for a long time. The concrete walls closed in as I ran, pipes hissing overhead like the place itself was alive—and angry I was inside it.

Bare feet slapped against cold cement. I didn’t slow down.

Behind me, boots thundered. Too many. Shouting bounced off the walls, distorted and overlapping.

They were herding me.

I knew it the second I reached the junction.

Three tunnel mouths. One partially collapsed. One pitch dark. One lit by a flickering bulb that hummed like it was seconds from dying.

They wanted the light.

Because light meant control.

I took the dark.

I slid sideways into it just as a flashlight beam sliced through the air where I’d been. A shout followed—surprise, then anger.

Gunfire cracked behind me. Concrete exploded inches from my shoulder, spraying grit and dust. I screamed—not from pain, but from instinct—and forced my legs to move faster.

The tunnel narrowed.

Water pooled around my ankles, icy and slick. I nearly went down but caught myself on the wall, skin tearing from my palm.

I didn’t stop.

I counted turns. Left. Right. Slight incline.

Air shifted.

Fresh.

Hope flared—dangerous, bright.

Then I heard it.

A metal clang ahead.

A door slamming shut.

“No—” I gasped, skidding to a halt just as a heavy steel gate dropped from the ceiling with a violent crash.

Dead end.

My chest heaved as I spun around.

Three men emerged from the darkness behind me, guns raised, flashlights blinding. One of them smiled—slow, cruel.