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She just didn’t know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.
Becca took a hot shower and dressed in flannel pajamas, curling beneath her comforter to combat her shivering. She checked the phone again. Nothing.
Then she lay in the dark and stared at the ceiling, remembering the feel of Drew’s body trapping her own.
The moment in the field had only lasted a minute, but here in the dark, it seemed to last an hour. Two. She watched the clock count the minutes. Just the thought of Drew was enough to trap her.
She couldn’t breathe.
But then she remembered the sleet on her face, slicing through her panic.
You’re brave. And you’re strong. Or did someone else break Seth’s nose tonight?
A tiny smile found her lips.
Then it was gone. “Chris,” she whispered.
She pulled his phone off the nightstand and checked the messages again.
None.
She switched his phone to vibrate and hugged it to her chest, staring at the ceiling until sleep crept out of nowhere.
Chris woke up.
And that right there was a frigging miracle.
He was lying on something cold and rough, like concrete. It hurt to move, so he didn’t try. Pounding filled his head and made him stay still for a long minute. For a panicked moment he thought something was wrong with his eyes—he couldn’t see anything.
Then he realized there was no light.
The air felt stale, too. No ventilation.
And not a drop of water anywhere near. He felt like he’d lost one of his senses.
He slid his fingers along the ground. Definitely concrete, and cold.
Then he heard something shift against the ground, that soft rasp of grit against fabric. Then a hissed breath.
He rolled to a crouch. Every muscle protested, but adrenaline helped. “Who’s there?”
The noise stopped. Chris put a hand against the ground and fought to hear. Something, anything.
Then a voice, rough and dry, barely more than a whisper. “Chris?”
“Nick?” Chris crawled forward a few feet, moving in the direction of the voice. For the first time, he had no sense of his brother—he didn’t even know if he was guessing the right twin. “Keep talking so I can find you. Are you hurt?”
A choked sound that might have been a laugh. “You remember when we were kids and Gabriel begged me to make a tornado because he wanted to ride one?”
“Yeah?” he said, just to keep Nick talking.
“That idea is overrated.”
Chris followed his voice. Straight ahead, a bit to the left. Maybe ten feet? He had no idea. Chris went slow, crawling, sliding his hands along the ground, not wanting to find a trap. His body didn’t like all this movement, but he told his body to get over it. His head wasn’t as easily convinced.
His hand hit something solid, and further examination discovered a steel pole. Chris was glad he hadn’t tried to bolt across the floor. He edged around it and kept going. “What does that mean?”
“It means I think my leg is broken.” Nick’s breath caught and trembled, then steadied. “Maybe other stuff, too. My hands are tied. I don’t think—I can’t feel my fingers—”
