Something thin and scratchy grazed her throat. She flinched, biting down on a gasp, as her good hand flew to her neck. Cobwebs tangled in her fingers. Her breathing was low and ragged as she swiped them away.

She wanted to hide in the passageway. To crouch down on the floor, arms wrapped around herself to protect from the cold air, as the dust trickled around her.

But she couldn’t. The dead ones would find her eventually. The others had been clear about that: hiding wouldn’t save her. Having an exit to slip through would. And she didn’t know where this passage led or if its other door was even unlocked.

Her right hand traced along the wall to hold her balance as she lifted her left arm to light the path. The cast was heavy. Her ankle and arm throbbed, but she’d left the pain tablets in the kitchen. The stress was starting to burn inside her head, aching behind her eyes.

She could still hear the footsteps, only now they echoed. Above her. Behind her. To all sides. The tunnel distorted any noise, and she couldn’t tell where the dead ones were any longer.

Up ahead, an open door caught at the edges of her light. Margot moved her hand across the phone, not entirely blotting it but muting it further. Her toes were numb, but she still kept her steps light as she edged nearer to the entrance. Another hallway, this one running perpendicular to her current one. Margot stepped out, squinting as she tried to orient herself, and turned right.

An immense figure loomed through the dark. Margot’s heart froze, the bubbling sense of panic rising and filling her throat with bile. Begging her to run. To no longer heed the directive to stay silent but to race, wild, into the night.

She might have if she’d had any strength left in her legs. Her shoulder hit the wall as her legs turned to water.

No. No. It can’t be one of the dead. They’re not quiet. I would have heard them. I would have…

The body faced away from her, but its edges were ragged, as though it had been torn into shreds. Something glinted across its form. Blood? Exposed bone? No—

Metal.

A faint gasping noise escaped her throat against her will. She was looking at the Watcher. The monstrous effigy still faced the front door. She’d found a back passageway that led her to the area beside the kitchen.

A dry, rasping inhale came from somewhere across the hall. The thump of a dirt-crusted foot. The scrape of fingernails against a closed door.

She clamped her hand over the light, blotting it out, and turned.

Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t.