Page 147 of Almost Rotten

With a shake of my head, I vow to deal with that later. For now, all that matters is freeing Ty. I smack Noah’s arm, fury burning through me. “Do something.”

He nods and steps back, scanning the dark space. After a moment, he straightens, then he strides toward the door and picks up a small shovel. “Stand clear,” he says as he storms back.

He drives the metal end of the shovel between the latch and the door, but it only damages the closure further.

“Noah,” I beg, my entire body trembling.

“Hang on,” he grits out.

“Ty, stand back,” I yell. “Get as far from the door as you can.”

He only pounds more intensely in response. He’s going berserk, the whole enclosure shaking violently, making it harder for Noah to get proper aim.

“He’s a lunatic,” Mercer sneers.

“He’sthe lunatic? You’re the one who put a human being in a fuckingcage, Professor,” I snap back.

My words are punctuated by a heart-dropping thud.

Then everything goes still.

The pounding stops. The screaming ceases. The only sounds come from the three of us as we pant and gape at the shed.

That’s when I really start to panic.

“Ty?” I beg, lunging closer. “Ty,please. Ty, it’s okay.” When he doesn’t answer, I turn to Noah. “Get him out.”

Rather than use the small shovel again, he takes off.

Shit. I have to call the police—or the fire department—to get him out. We need help. We need backup, now.

While Noah rummages around nearby, I turn to Mercer. “Why is he even in there? What were you fucking thinking?”

Noah returns, this time with an axe.

“Stand back.” He lifts the tool overhead and brings it down on the latch, chopping it clean off.

Without the external resistance, the shed door flies open.

Ty’s lifeless body slumps forward in a heap.

My knees give out. As I hit the ground, I reach for him. I need to feel him. To check his breathing. To ensure he’s in there somewhere.

The stench of vomit and urine infiltrates my nostrils as I hover over his body.

“Tytus. It’s okay. I’m here.”

When I rest a hand on his chest and instantly find his thundering heartbeat, I breathe a sigh of relief.

It’s washed away by a sense of horror a second later, though, when I discover the crimson stain seeping along the side of his shirt.

The stain is warm. Wet. It’s growing at a rapid pace.

His injuries.

“He’s bleeding!” Oh god. We don’t even know the extent of his original injuries. Now this? “Call for help,” I scream. “Now.”

I shift and ease Ty’s head into my lap.