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“I hope I can live up to her standards,” she says softly.

I stop and turn to her. Down here, the light catches her eyes with an unnatural gleam. Makes the emotion behind them more exposed than it ever is in the daylight.

“As long as you don’t quit.” I glance up at the ceiling. “That was her mistake.”

I turn before she can answer and lead her farther beneath the town. Zaiya stays close, studying everything and filling the walk with questions.

We stop where the entrance to a room used to be. Now it’s an old brick wall, the mortar chalky with age. But there’s a narrow gap at one side, barely wide enough for a small body to slip through.

“This used to be a beer cave.” I pull out my phone and shine the light inside. “They stored liquor here before bringing it into The Cirrus back when alcohol was illegal.”

The beam of light cuts into the space beyond. Dozens of candles have melted down to stubs. Piles of books line the wall and crowd a small stool. A folded blanket sits where she left it, surely half dust by now.

“It was sealed off after it flooded one year. My mom came down with a hammer and knocked out just enough brick to squeeze through. She felt safe here.”

I run my hand over the wall, mortar dust crumbling beneath my touch.

Zaiya steps closer, looking through the opening like it might still be occupied. “Everyone needs somewhere to escape to.”

An escape, yes.

But some people never return from it.

I switch off the light and take her back the way we came.

We stop beneath a vertical shaft cut straight up through the ground. I nod towards the ladder.

“Up.”

Her eyes shift from the ladder to her dress, then back at me. “In this dress?”

“Go on, I’m right behind you.”

“That’s what concerns me.”

The dress is too tight around her legs to make the climb easy. She attempts it anyway, awkward and stubborn, determined to preserve what little dignity she can. That lasts all of two seconds.

A smile tugs at my mouth. “Zaiya.”

She glares down at me, trying to keep her legs together. “Don’t.”

I ignore that, catch the hem of her dress, and push it up to her thighs. All to help her maneuver the rungs, of course.

She exhales sharply through her nose. “Oh, thank you so much for that.”

The sarcasm that breaks through her calm exterior is a delight to witness. I want more of that bite.

“You like my eyes on your ass.”

She scoffs, but offers no retort. She knows I’m right.

Her annoyance deepens when I lift the fabric higher, bunching it at her hips so she can move easily. She mutters something under her breath, then starts climbing.

I keep one hand braced at the back of her thigh to steady her, and when the hatch above us finally gives way, I take my time appreciating the view before climbing after her.

We emerge out of the earth. Despite the lack of sun, heat slams us in the face. Behind us, the bluff rises black and stoic. Ahead, past the trees, houses sit quietly. The Bolton house is close by. Its windows dark.

Zaiya turns to me. I catch the uncertainty in her face before she can hide it.