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He must hear the rough promise in my voice, because his reply is just as raspy and eager. “We will. I fucking guarantee it.” Then he reaches up and pulls himself out of the duct.
A moment later, he extends his hand to help pull me out.
I was wrong, it wasn’t a real room on the other side, more of a hub of ducts, with a massive ventilation system on one side. The rumble I heard comes from that as it pumps cool air past us, enough that I get chills. There's an access door as well, but when Outlaw tries it, it's locked, and way more solid than the grates.
“Fuck.” He looks around the little room. “We're gonna be fucking corpses before we break out there.”
“Then what? More crawling?”
He points up. “These look like they go to the next floor. That's where your mama is, right? Might as well give that a go, unless we're giving up and just trying to get the hell out again. If we bang on the door, whoever shows up might not shoot.”
“What? No! We can't. I need to get Mom out of here. But what about the others?”
“If they've run into something they can't handle, then we're not gonna be able to solve it for them. Better we try for the objective and rejoin them when we can. Come.”
Not like it's far for me to move, but I shuffle to crouch in front of him, and he puts his hands on my waist, preparing to give me a boost.
“Wait.” I put a quick kiss on his lips. “For luck.”
“Fuck,” he hisses. “On three. One, two, three!”
And then we’re clambering through more ducts. My arms are going to be covered in bruises and I'm going to look like a chimney sweep by the time we get out of here. And we are going to get out of here. I'm not going to give up now, not when I’m so close to both my mother and breaking through Outlaw’s walls.
This time we move faster. Practice makes, if not perfect, at least more proficient. The channel rumbles behind me as Outlaw follows, and we make our way up the sloped duct towards the next floor.
“Are you watching my butt?” I tease back at him.
“Stay quiet or I’ll fucking spank it. Don't give us away.”
He's right. We scramble through the ducts, checking the grates as we go. At the fifth, the lights are low, but someone’s in the bed, and her long brown hair looks very familiar. Her curls are a mess, something I never had and always envied a little. There's an IV drip set up next to her, but it doesn't look to be connected. Everything looks quiet. Steady. Tears spring to my eyes, probably leaving wet trails through the dust on my cheeks.
“It’s her.”
He doesn't question, just presses his way up next to me like last time. This time he's the one who surprises me with a quick kiss. In the faint light seeping in from the room, he grins and gives the grate a shove that pulls the screws right out of the walls. It drops, but falls onto a chair, and it doesn't make much noise.
“C'mon.” Outlaw pulls himself out, somehow flipping himself around and landing on his feet. That's some core strength. Then he holds up his arms and helps me down, too.
While Outlaw makes sure the room is clear, I walk around to the other side so I can see her face. She's asleep, peaceful. Her color looks good, better than last time I saw her. God, I don’t know if I should be happy that she’s recovering so well or upset that it means she might be aware of everything that’s been happening.
“Is it her?”
I nod, then quickly comb my fingers through my hair to hopefully get the worst of the cobwebs out, before I put my hand on her shoulder. “Mom?”
Her eyes flutter.
“Mom!”
And they pop open. It takes her a moment to focus before she recognizes me. “Harper! Oh thank God!”
“I'm getting you out of here. Can you walk?”
“Yes, but not far. What’s going on? I don't understand. I kept asking to talk to you but—”
“We don't have a lot of time,” says Outlaw. “They're gonna be making rounds.”
“God, there isn't enough time to explain. You're not safe here and it’s all my fault.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I found my father.”
Her eyes go wide. “You what? How?”
“Mom, later. Please. I'll tell you the whole story. I understand now why you didn't tell me, but I wish you'd warned me. Now Vincent knows about me, knows about you, and he’s obsessed. I don't even understand everything that's going on, or what his plan is, but we're going to get you out of here, and somewhere you can finish recovering.” I know I'm rambling, but there's so much to explain and so little time to do it in. We really, really, really have to get out of here. “Please, just trust me.”
