“If he doesn’t have a key for that thing…” Rafe said, shining the beam at the choker around my neck. “There’s no way in hell I’m leaving you here.” He bent and patted down the guy’s body, paying special attention to his pockets, and withdrew a set of keys.

I shuffled my feet, my pulse skittering too fast, as Rafe started his way through the bundle. “Hurry.”

“Just breathe,” he said on his fourth or fifth try. “We’re getting out of this fucking room, I promise.” He pushed in another key and turned it, and this time, the chain fell free of the choker.

Rafe grabbed my hand. “Let’s go.”

“You didn’t find a gun on him?”

“No.”

Stepping into the hall was blinding. After spending days in total darkness, the light seared my eyes. I glanced up and down the tunnel, in disbelief that it was actually empty. Clinging to Rafe’s hand, I followed him down the passage toward the office, acutely aware that we were naked, and that at any given moment someone could discover us and send our hope for survival crashing through the ground.

“Maybe we should go the other way,” I whispered, a tremor taking my voice hostage.

“The office is this way. I’m hoping to find a gun in that room.” His fingers flexed around mine.

We approached the last door just as another opened somewhere down the tunnel. I held my breath as Rafe tried the knob and turned it without resistance. We scurried inside, and the flashlight lit up the office in weak illumination. Rafe made a beeline for the interior steel door Lucas had come through on my first night here.

“There’s a fucking keypad.” He leaned his forehead against the steel with a loud sigh. “Fuck!” He turned, and I felt the weight of his stare through the darkness. “How well did you know Lucas? Any guesses at the code?”

Biting my lip, my gaze veered toward the ceiling, trying to remember anything of significance. “His birthday is October twenty-eighth.”

“What about the year?” He turned back to the keypad and punched in some numbers. “I doubt he’d use his birthdate though.”

“He was born in 1969.”

“Of course the bastard was. Fuck, Alex. He’s old enough to be your father.”

“I was desperate and…stupid.” Shaking my head, I rounded the desk and began pulling drawers open. “Shine that thing over here.”

He joined me and aimed the light into the drawers, but they were mostly empty, only housing stray pens, paper, and sticky notes. The filing cabinets underneath the poster-sized photos of the blonde were locked with no key in sight. Even the desk’s surface was free of clutter. No phone, no computer, not even a letter opener we could use as a weapon.