Yes.

The ropes come loose after the ninth try; some combination of finding the right angle, the disgusting amount of sweat slicking my hands, and the lucky fact that the kidnapper didn’t have time to double knot.

I toss the ropes aside and scramble toward the door, ignoring the weakness in my knees, the tingling in my fingers. The tightness in my lungs.

Save Peter. That’s all that matters right now.

As I flip the lock and burst through the doorway, squinting into the sudden light, I try to figure out where the kidnappers would go.

It seems unlikely they’d hang around an area where Peter could easily be recognized. And they’d mentioned something about transferring Peter, about a car—

The parking lot.

But not just any parking lot. A secluded spot, connected to the stairs instead of the lift, a place without security cameras to catch suspicious activity.

I run down the stairs, taking two steps at a time, my mind reeling. I’ve spent so long committing the map of the hotel to memory that I can see it as clearly as if someone’s holding it in front of me: all the labels marking out cameras and exits, the lines intersecting at corridors and staircases...and the diagram of the abandoned lot two levels underground.

That’s where they’re taking Peter. It must be.

Now I just have to find them before they leave.

I move faster. My feet slam over the concrete, my heart beating so hard I’m scared it’ll explode. I wish I were an athlete. I wish I had been quicker to unfasten the ropes, or to escape with Peter when I had the chance. I wish I’d never agreed to kidnap Peter in the first place.

Numbers flash by me as I make my way down flight after flight of stairs.

Level Fifteen.

Level Twelve.

Ten.

Seven.

“Alice!”

I stumble to a stop. Whip my head around, half certain I’m hallucinating.

But there’s Henry, standing only a few steps above me, the neon exit sign casting a red glow over his features. His eyes are dark with concern.

“I was looking everywhere for you,” he says, coming down toward me, his footsteps light and swift. “I managed to get away from Rainie and...” He pauses, his gaze raking over my face. “What happened? Did they hurt you?”

I shake my head, too winded to speak at first.

My lungs and legs feel like lead, and there’s an awful knife-sharp stitch in my side. It takes everything I have not to double over.

“They—they took Peter—” I finally manage, my voice a dry croak. “We have to—save him—”

I wait for the barrage of questions, the moment of disbelief, but Henry doesn’t even look surprised at this dramatic turn of events. He simply rolls up his sleeves and says, “Okay. Let’s go.”

I can’t believe I ever wanted to push this boy off a stage.

Somehow, with Henry by my side, it’s a little easier to run down the remaining stairs. And by easier, I mean it doesn’t feel quite like I’m dying a slow, excruciating death. Still, white dots have started to dance over my vision by the time we reach the entrance to the parking lot.