I know Rylan. I’ve been friends with him—lived in the same building as him—for years. I know what he sounds like. Andthat is not him.
Turning, I take a stumbling step up the stairs. I clutch the railing, using it for balance as I try to haul myself up. The beckoning dark is frightening, but less so than what’s behind me.
Go!the logical voice in my head shouts.Go! Get upstairs! Get behind a locked door and call for help!
But I only make it another step before a hand clamps down on my shoulder and drags me back. Then I’m spun around and shoved against the wall of the hallway. The flashlight shines in my face.
“Who are you?” the man snaps. “Why are you here?”
“I… I…” My throat narrows. It’s hard to get anything out.
“Who are you?” he demands. “Tell me.” Something small and cylindrical presses into my belly. It jabs into my skin, bruisingly hard.“Tell me.”
“Georgia,” I whisper, unable to speak louder. “Why?—”
“Why are you here?” His breath is hot on my face. “Don’t lie.”
“I… I live here,” I stammer. “Please. Let me?—”
“Who else is here?”
No. I can’t tell him. Not with Lily upstairs. The other babies. My best friends.
“Who. Else. Is. Here?”
“No one. It’s just me.”
“Liar!” His hand comes to my throat and squeezes. “Tell me!”
Hot tears trickle down my cheeks. “No one,” I gasp. “No one.”
The flashlight moves, partially illuminating his features. His eyes are dark, framed by heavy brows. His nose is long and narrow. Days-old stubble shadows his face.
Panic erupts into terror.
I don’t know him. I’ve never seen him before. But somehow, this man is inside Blade and Arrow. Armed. And he wants to know who else is here.
I’ll die rather than tell him, I decide. I won’t—can’t—risk my daughter.
On the heels of that decision, pain spears through my chest.
Lily. Leo. Will I ever see them again? Or will Leo come home to find out?—
“Georgia?” Rylan’s voice comes from the other end of the hallway. “Are you okay? Maya called and said you might be stuck down here. I’m not sure what’s going on with the generator. But let’s get you backupstairs.”
The hand tightens around my throat until it’s hard to breathe. Still, I do my best to warn Rylan, getting as far as gasping, “Ry, no?—”
Then everything happens at once.
The beam of Rylan’s flashlight hits me and my captor, casting us both in light.
The gun pressed to my stomach moves. Shifts. Rises. Until it’s aimed at Rylan, who’s standing stock-still, fifteen feet down the hallway.
Rylan’s expression is a mix of shock and anger. With his free hand, he reaches for his pocket, where I’d bet anything his trusty switchblade is.
Hope kindles inside me. Rylan’s a trained sniper and his aim is incredible, not just with guns, but knives, as well. If he could get a throw off?—
“Don’t move!” my captor barks.
