“Well, hello. Ça va? Que fais-tu ici?” Chang leans away from us, disappearing from the gap in the wall toward approaching footsteps. Shit. Jean-Luc? Mathieu? The police?

Angela pulls on my hand, scrambling to retreat farther into the darkness, but Chang hears her. Her face reappears through the uneven outline of the rock’s opening. “Hey, Shayna, I don’t think—” Someone extends a hand from around the corner to grab Chang’s glasses. “Hey!” The person’s fist closes around her neck, then tosses her backward with a loud thump.

“Chang!” I scream.

Silence. A figure steps into view. But it’s not who I expect.

Seb stands there, wearing a sickening grin. Blood smears across his cheek. “Shayna, I must thank you. Without you, I never would have found Angela. Your bond truly is remarkable.”

The feral urge to Run! Run! Run! rises somewhere within me. It reverberates in my heart, but terror plants my feet to the ground. He kicks through the wall, punches, and steps into the tunnel with us.

Seb. He played me all along. From the moment I landed, I’ve been doing the work for him.

Angela grabs my hand and turns to run, but Seb yanks me back, throwing me against a wall studded with stone. Pain explodes from my elbow in one sharp crack, and white flashes across my eyes. I slump to the ground, clutching my arm, and glimpse Angela tearing down the path with Seb on her heels. I could run, run now.

She gains distance in inches, thin and quick from her time in hiding, but then she trips and falls hard, swinging down like an ax. He’s on her in two seconds. Howls rip from her throat as he drags her back, limping on her right leg.

Fever reignites across my skin, a terrible heat just like before. Seb’s smile grows hazy. The gun he wields is a dull object rising with each sweeping movement as he gloats. Words I can’t hear spill from his mouth as a loud ringing overwhelms my eardrums. I can’t move. Numbness subdues both fight and flight instincts as he steps forward and drags us into the light.

Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Hold still

Putain merde mais vas-y tu sais bien ce qui t’attend

Hold still you stupid bitch

A musty smell fills my nostrils, as though I’m in a library or a walk-in closet. Maybe back in high school. I breathe deep, eyes closed, listening for my surroundings. The absence of the familiar sound of running water is deafening.

My eyes snap open.

Thick wooden beams above reinforce the dirt ceiling—the only barriers between us and six stories of earth, waiting to bury us. Damp dust motes swirl around me.

“Shayna?” Angela whispers. “You okay?”