Instead, she frowned.
“Tails,” she whispered, her eyes widening.
Bullets shattered through the window glass.
Sophia screamed and dropped to the ground. The match caught the gasoline, and the den quickly engulfed in flames. Jac swore and ducked behind the remnants of the bar. Sophia rushed toward him, scrambling for cover.
The sound of gunfire rang in his ears. Jac had been beaten, trampled, and stabbed before—never had he been shot. He reached for the pistol in his pocket, but he knew it would be useless against the automatic rifles.
“There’s a back exit,” she breathed.
“They’ll already be there by now, waiting for us,” Jac said.
Sophia paled. They couldn’t crouch here forever. Even if the bullets didn’t kill them, eventually, the fire would. Already the smoke filled the den.
Jac coughed into his sleeve. “What’s next door?” he asked.
“A Mistress parlor.”
Jac didn’t hesitate. He jumped to his feet, took a running start, and kicked at the wall as hard he could. Drywall and cement caved in a haze of dust. He ducked through the hole to the parlor on the other side.
“Come on,” he called to Sophia. “Mistress is Augustine-owned. And if I’m right about Vianca, she has secret ways out of all her dens.”
He led Sophia to a rear hallway, where he busted through several locked doors. First, a closet. Then a bathroom. Then, at last, a stairwell, leading down into blackness.
Sophia let out an uncharacteristic whimper. “It’s so dark.”
They didn’t have time to stall, so he ignored her comment and pulled her down the stairs. They felt their way lower and lower, until they reached a series of tunnels. Sophia lit a match, her hand shaking, but it offered little light beyond her fingertips.
“Where does this lead?” she asked.
“St. Morse Casino, I’d guess. The Augustines had the tunnels built decades ago.”
They walked in silence for several minutes. Behind him, Sophia took deep, steady breaths, in that rhythm of someone forcing themselves to stay calm. Meanwhile, Jac was finally at ease, the scent of Lullaby replaced by the stench of gasoline.
“So how does a girl like you become afraid of the dark?” he wondered aloud.
“We’re all afraid of something.”
That was probably true, but he wouldn’t have guessed it about her. She trembled beside him, the same way he’d trembled when they’d entered Insomnia.
As he studied her in the matchlight, he caught a glimpse of something red on her arm. Sophia wore a lot of red—but this red didn’t belong.
“You were grazed,” Jac said. He brushed his fingers against the cut, and Sophia winced. “Does it hurt?”
“A little.”
“Here.” He reached out and pressed his thumb against the wound, staining his skin with blood. The pain seeped into him and settled into his stomach.
She jolted away from him. “How did you do that?”
“It’s my split talent. The Dorner side.”
“The Dorner...” She shook her head, letting go of whatever she was going to say. “Thank you.”
They came upon an exit, a narrow set of stairs leading to the street above. Jac led the way as they climbed and threw open the hatch at the top. They emerged in an alley. A few blocks behind them, smoke billowed into the blue sky.
Jac let out a whooping laugh. He’d committed a lot of crimes, but never one as dangerous as this one. He wondered if they’d freed a few of the prisoners on Chain Street who’d been bound to that den. He hoped so.
