Page 14

CHAPTER

ELEVEN

Cam

The air feels like it’s pressing down on me, intense and heavy, wrapping itself around my chest. I can hear my own breathing, steady but loud in my ears, like a drumbeat that won’t stop.

I stay close behind Paigelynn, watching every step she takes. She moves well—better than she thinks she does. Her shoulders are tight, her body low, her movements careful. She’s scared. I can feel it in the way she glances back at me, her wide eyes searching for reassurance.

But she doesn’t stop. She doesn’t freeze.

That’s what matters. Fear is normal. Fear keeps you sharp.

It’s when the fear takes over that you lose.

Paigelynn stops suddenly, pressing herself against the maintenance corridor wall. I stop too, my muscles tensing as I glance past her. That’s when I see him—a guard. He’s close.

Too close.

His flashlight swings back and forth, cutting arcs across the ground. My jaw tightens. He’s not rushing. He’s not careless. He’s looking.

Hunting.

He doesn’t know exactly where we are, but he suspects something. He’s moving slow, deliberate, like he’s trying to catch whatever set off the motion sensor.

I throw my arm out to stop Paigelynn from moving. She freezes instantly, her body stiff beside me. I can feel her trembling, even though I’m not touching her. Her breath is quick, shallow, and I can hear it catching in her throat.

I glance at her, pressing a finger to my lips. She nods, her wide eyes locking on mine. She doesn’t make a sound.

Good.

She knows what I’m telling her: Stay here. Don’t move.

Let me handle this.

The guard’s flashlight swings closer, the beam bouncing off the pipes overhead. My muscles coil, ready to spring. The tension in my chest builds with every second, every step the guard takes. My hands curl into fists, the leather of my gloves creaking softly as I tighten my grip.

My mind is already running through the motions, the steps I’ll take, the moves I’ll make.

Quick.

Clean.

Quiet.

I glance at Paigelynn again, her face pale in the dim light. I can see the fear in her eyes, but I can also see the trust. She’s trusting me to get us through this, to keep her safe. That trust is heavy. It’s a weight I carry with every step, every decision.

But it’s a weight I’ll never drop.

I shift my focus back to the guard. He’s muttering something under his breath, his voice low and sharp. I can’t hear the words, and I don’t care. What matters is that he’s in our way. He’s a problem.

Problems need to be solved.

I move slowly, each step deliberate and silent.

My boots barely graze the ground as I close the distance between us.

The guard doesn’t hear me. His focus is on his flashlight, on the beam of light sweeping the ground in front of him.

He doesn’t expect someone like me to be waiting in the shadows. He doesn’t know I’m here.

I’m behind him in three steps. My arm snakes around his neck, pulling him into a chokehold.

He reacts fast, his body jerking, his hands flying up to claw at my arm.

But I tighten my grip, cutting off his air.

He struggles, twisting and kicking, his boots scraping against the ground. He’s strong, but I’m stronger.

Always have been.

The kill is clean. Fast. Quiet . His body goes limp in my arms, and I lower him to the ground carefully.

No sound. No mess.

Just another obstacle cleared.

I crouch beside him, my breath steady, and start searching his gear. He has a keychain with a tiny pen knife on it. Then I see it: an ID badge clipped to his vest. I unclip it and slip it into my pocket. It’s a small win, but it’ll get us through the next checkpoint.

That’s all that matters right now.

Paigelynn's eyes lock on mine, wide and uncertain, but she doesn’t speak. She’s waiting for me to tell her what comes next.

She’s waiting for me to fix this.

“We’re okay,” I whisper, my voice calm and steady.

“We need to move. The ventilation duct is just ahead.”

She nods, but I can see the tension in her shoulders. She’s holding it together, but it’s taking everything she has. I reach out, resting a hand on her arm. It’s a small gesture, but it’s enough to ground her.

To remind her that I’m here.

The duct is smaller than I expected, barely wide enough for us to fit. I crouch down and pull the grate open. The metal is cold under my fingers, and it groans softly as I move it. I glance back at Paigelynn. She’s watching me, her body tense but ready.

“In,” I whisper, motioning for her to go first.

She hesitates for half a second. Then she ducks into the duct, her body disappearing into the darkness. I follow her, pulling the grate closed behind me. The sound echoes in the small space, but it’s too late to worry about that now. We’re inside.

The air in the duct is stale, choking with dust. It clings to my throat, making it hard to breathe, but I push it aside. The walls are close, pressing in on my shoulders as I crawl forward, following Paigelynn. Her movements are quick but shaky, her hands and knees scraping against the metal floor.

“Keep going,” I whisper. My voice bounces off the walls, soft but firm.

She nods without looking back. She keeps moving, her breathing loud in the quiet space. I stay close, my body low, my mind sharp. Every creak of the metal, every scrape of my boots feels too loud. Too dangerous. But we’re in. That’s what matters.

Finally, the duct opens into a new corridor. We scramble out, her first. Won’t make that mistake again. I always need to lead.

I pull the ID badge from my pocket, holding it up. “This will get us through the next door,” I say. “We’re close.”

She nods, her eyes meeting mine. There’s fear there, but there’s something else too. Trust. Faith. She’s putting everything she has in me, and I won’t let her down.

“We’ll get through this,” I tell her. “Stay close.”

A little moan comes out of her, then a defiant huff. "Where else would I go?"