Page 162 of Bound By Fury

“We have to hurry! Before he comes back. Are you ready? Can you do this?”

He looks at me full on.

I trace the planes of his face with my eyes, searching for anything but the pure panic that’s etched there—anything to hint that he’s still lying to me. I see nothing.

“I can do it.”

Nodding, he turns, and we take off, curving through the doorway and plunging into a long, damp hallway completely devoid of light.

FIFTY-FOUR

OUR FOOTSTEPS BEAT AGAINST THE dirt floor, and there’s a part of me that finds every curve, every angle of these tunnels to be familiar in a distant way. Like the map of them has been written on my heart.

Eventually, the tunnel changes, no longer pitch black. First, periodic sconces shine, just barely enough to illuminate every ten paces or so. Then the ground beneath us switches from dirt to concrete, the walls to plaster, the lights growing brighter and more frequent until we’re crashing through twin doors and fully inside a modern, private compound buried beneath the mountain. Around us, an alarm blares.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

White light flashes like a strobe, disorienting me as we run. We don’t stop until a raging roar echoes after us.

“Keep going!” He tugs me, and I follow.

We turn only twice more before shouts erupt behind us.

“Hey!” someone yells. “They’re getting away!”

We pump our legs harder. His are so much longer than mine that it’s nearly impossible to keep up, but I can tell from the cadence of his steps and the pace of his breath that something is wrong.

“Are you okay?” I huff. “Is it your leg?”

“I think there’s a blister,” he pants, “under the liner. It doesn’t matter. We need to hurry!”

“I am hurrying,” I say through gasping breaths. “My legs are short!”

My heart is squeezing painfully, and my head aches with every step.

We pass door after door, all shut and dark behind their panes of glass. I don’t have the time or wherewithal to examine the plaques nailed beside them.

“What is this pla—” I start, but Malachi skids to a halt, and I knock right into him.

Two cloaks in front of us and two far behind.

“Fuck!” Malachi mutters, turning and assessing our options. “This way,” he says, running in the opposite direction until he flings his arm out and shoves me to the side.

The hallway opens to a forked path.

“Right!” he urges, and I pivot, arms pumping at my sides.

It’s not long before we reach another set of double doors. Thank god, I think, as I press the bar to open them. They don’t budge.

“How the fuck do we get out of here?” I scream.

“Watch out!” Malachi grunts, and I jump back as he comes running, his shoulder down and body curled like he’s ready for a tackle. He barrels into the door, and it flies open.

“Let’s go,” he calls, flinging his arm out and snatching my hand, pulling me along after him.

“You guys are only making it harder for yourselves!” someone calls from behind us. “You’ll wear out eventually!”

I’m so exhausted and frazzled that it takes me a minute to realize the doors didn’t open to the outside. Instead, we’re plunged back into the dirt-walled caves.