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PROLOGUE
This time, she was going to do it. She only had one chance. A tiny, desperate window of opportunity. She didn't want to think about the consequences of failure, but anything was better than where she was now.
Lying on the cold, concrete floor, Chloe Terry kept absolutely still. She forced her breathing to be slow and squeezed her eyes closed. If she could have, she would have slowed the frantic beating of her heart.
She heard footsteps, heavy and regular, treading toward the door. And then, she heard the heavy metallic clang as the solid door slammed shut, plunging her prison into darkness.
She waited and counted to five with shaky, gasping breaths to make sure that he'd gone. Around her, she heard soft sounds, ragged breathing.
Nobody knew she was doing this. Nobody had seen what she managed to do earlier today while the door was open, and he'd been bringing in a new prisoner. She hadn’t wanted to tell anyone because speaking to fellow captives was discouraged, and she was sure he had cameras and microphones in the bunker. A couple of days ago, they’d managed whispered introductions of first names and where they were from before he’d burst in angrily. Since then, she’d been very careful about what she’d shared and who she’d spoken to, although she had tried her best to plan.
But it would be better for everyone to believe she’d just managed to get the door open and done it on impulse.
Chloe sprang to her feet, shaking all over with terror and tension, clinging to the hope that what she had done might, somehow, have worked.
"You have to get out. You have to," she whispered to herself.
Stumbling in the darkness, she rushed to the door, turned the handle, and tugged, hoping and praying that the foil wrapper she'd saved from yesterday's food, and had managed to wedge into the door lock while his back was turned, would have done what she hoped.
Pulling the handle down as far as she could, Chloe hauled with all her might on the door.
And it opened. Around her, she heard gasps of astonishment as the heavy door moved, easing open on its hinges in a creaky sound she was now familiar with, because although she wasn't sure how long she'd been imprisoned here—maybe a week, maybe more—it had opened and closed numerous times.
Now, for the first time, it was open without him standing, framed in the doorway, that familiar and threatening sight that made her feel sick with dread.
Outside was almost as dark, but there was a faint pinpoint of light, enough to see by as she rushed down the narrow passage, the floor cold under her bare feet. Her heart was racing. Could it be possible? Was she going to escape?
Running down the corridor, she felt totally disoriented as she came to a branch. Which way should she go? Where was the exit? She was in an underground maze and needed to find the way out. Chloe felt panic surge. She couldn't let him catch her now! Which way?
Choosing one at random, she raced along the corridor, feeling overwhelmed by panic and fear at what she was doing and the consequences of failure.
Wrong way! There was a heavy door up ahead—that was what the sliver of light was, meaning that it wasn't coming from outside at all.
And worse still, whoever was behind that door must have heard the thudding of her bare feet, because she heard a man's shout.
Terror consumed her.
Chloe turned and fled the other way, racing along the passage, sprinting around the corner as she heard the door bang open behind her and another, louder, shout.
She flew down the corridor, the rough concrete biting into her feet. Now she was going uphill, powering up a steep slope. Up. This was the right way, surely, if they’d been kept underground.
But at the top of the slope, she found herself facing a solid door with a heavy, strong bolt on it.
Any door that led outside, into freedom, would be good enough for her. She grabbed the handle, wrestling with the bolt, feeling her breath panting, hot and terrified, as she now heard the shouting behind her becoming an angry roar.
"Let me get out, let me get out," she muttered the words like a mantra, over and over again, her voice nothing more than a wobbly, soundless breath.
The door was heavy, the weight of the wood pulling down on the bolt prevented it from opening, and she felt an ecstasy of fear as she imagined being trapped here, cornered at the door. Because in a moment, in one short moment, those footsteps were going to race around the corner, he would see her there, and it would all be over.
And then the bolt sprang back with a shriek of metal, skinning her knuckles so hard that hot pain stabbed her hand. She didn't care. It was open. She was out.
She had a chance.
She had no idea where she was, but she flung the door back and burst out, running blindly, her bare feet treading over soil, bark, and thorns. It was pitch-black outside.
She was in the woods somewhere, that was all she knew. She had to get away. Far enough away that he would not find her again, even though she already heard the enraged shout frombehind her, and the wavering beam of a flashlight was cutting the dark.
She smelled the piney scent of the forest and faraway wood smoke from somewhere. She heard the rustle of the trees. The moon was high, the clouds scudding across it.
