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CHAPTER

TWENTY

Paigelynn

Cam grabs my hand, pulling me through the tunnel.

The walls are lined with thick pipes that are hot to the touch and shielded cables.

The only illumination comes from red lights on switchboxes and green flashing lights on network router boxes.

The air feels heavy and stale, thick with the smell of damp concrete.

My heart is pounding, and every muscle in my body aches, but none of it matters.

I’m alive.

And I’m with him.

I glance at him as we move, the dim light casting shadows on his face. His jaw is set, his eyes sharp and focused, but I can see the worry underneath. He hasn’t let go of my hand since we escaped that room. He keeps looking back at me, checking to make sure I’m still there.

When we stop to catch our breath, he turns to me, his grip tightening. “I heard what you did, threatening to kill yourself,” he says, his voice low but firm. “Or what you almost did.”

I swallow hard, my chest tightening. “Cam?—”

“Don’t,” he cuts me off, his eyes locking on mine. “Don’t you ever do that again. Never say that again. Do you hear me?”

I look away, ashamed. My hands tremble as I remember the knife, the way it felt in my hand, the way it hovered over my chest. “I thought it was the only way,” I whisper. “I couldn’t let her win.”

He grabs my shoulders, forcing me to face him. “You think you stop her by killing yourself? No. That’s how she wins. She makes you think you’re nothing, that you have no choice. But you do. You fight. You live.”

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them away. “I didn’t want her to take my heart,” I say softly. “I didn’t want to be her tool.”

“You’re not her tool,” he says, his voice shaking. “You’re Paigelynn. You’re stronger than her. Stronger than any of them. And I need you to live. Not just because I love you—though I do—but because we have work to do. We have to show the world what they’ve done. We have to stop them.”

His words hit me like a wave, crashing over me, pulling me back to the surface. I take a shaky breath, nodding. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I won’t give up again. I promise. I love you, too.”

He pulls me into a quick hug, his arms tight around me. “Good,” he says. “Because I can’t do this without you.” His quick kiss tastes better than anything I’ve ever tasted.

It tastes like love and hope.

As we move deeper into the tunnel, I can feel the weight of everything pressing down on me—the lies, the fear, the fight still ahead. But for the first time, it doesn’t feel like it’s crushing me. It feels… manageable.

Like I can carry it.

Like I want to.

I think back to that moment, when I held the knife to my chest. I really thought I was doing the right thing. But now, as I follow Cam through the darkness, I know I was wrong. Ending it wouldn’t have saved me.

It wouldn’t have saved anyone.

I’ve come so far from that girl who used to flinch at shadows, who believed everything The Mother told her.

I’m not her heart.

I’m not her tool.

I’m me . I'm her downfall.

And I’m not giving up.

A knife is tucked into my belt, the blade pressing lightly against my side as we move. It’s a reminder of what I’ve learned from him—not just how to fight, but how to survive.

How to push forward, even when it feels impossible.

The tunnel grows narrower, the air colder. Cam slows down, holding up a hand to signal me to stop. I freeze, my heart racing. I hear it too—voices. Footsteps.

They’re coming.

“Stay back,” Cam whispers, his voice low. “I’ll handle this.”

Before I can argue, they’re here. Two guards appear at the end of the tunnel, their flashlights cutting through the darkness.

They shout when they see us, raising their rifles.

Cam moves fast, grabbing one of the rifles and slamming it into the guard’s chest. The man stumbles back, but the second guard is already swinging at Cam with the butt of his gun.

Cam blocks the hit, but I can see the pain on his face. He’s already injured—his movements are slower, less precise. The second guard lands a hard punch to his side, and Cam grunts, falling to one knee.

“Cam!” I yell, my hand going to the knife at my belt.

The first guard moves toward me, his face twisted with anger.

I don’t think.

I just move.

I step forward, slashing at his arm. Shock registers in his eyes. I don’t think these guards expect a “princess” to fight back.

They have no idea The Mother trained me to fend off unwanted advances. Jason gave me self-defense lessons.

He cries out, dropping his weapon, and I don’t stop. I swing again, the blade catching his side. He stumbles back, his hand going to the wound, and I kick him hard in the knee. He falls with a shout, clutching his leg.

The second guard turns to me, his face a mask of rage. He lunges, but I’m ready. I duck under his swing, bringing the knife up and stabbing him in the shoulder. He howls, dropping his weapon, and I shove him back into the wall.

My chest heaves as I stand over them, the knife still clutched in my hand. My heart is pounding, my hands shaking, and I freeze.

I look down at Cam, who’s leaning against the wall, his hand pressed to his side. Blood stains his shirt, but he’s smiling. “Good job,” he says, his voice weak but proud.

I kneel beside him, sliding the knife back into my belt. “Can you stand?” I ask, my voice shaking.

“With your help,” he says, wincing as he shifts his weight.

I slip my arm under his, helping him to his feet. He leans heavily on me, his body trembling, but he’s still moving. Still fighting.

Just like me.

We move slowly toward the end of the tunnel, every step a struggle. The alarms are louder now, echoing through the walls, but so are the sounds of chaos—shouting, explosions, the crackle of fire. The compound is falling apart.

The cabal is losing control.

As we reach the exit, I glance at Cam, his face pale but determined. “We’re almost there,” I say, my voice steady.

He nods, his eyes meeting mine. “You did good back there,” he says. “I knew you could.”

His words make my chest tighten, but not in a bad way. I think back to all the times I saw him fight—how he killed Jason and Malcolm so easily, how he took down anyone who got in his way. I didn’t understand it then. I thought it was cold. Cruel. Maniacal.

But now I get it.

Sometimes, you have to fight.

Sometimes, you just dig in and do it.

We step out into the open air, the cool night breeze hitting my face. For a moment, I just breathe, the weight on my chest lifting slightly. We’re not safe yet, but we’re closer.

Closer than we’ve ever been.

I tighten my grip on Cam, helping him limp toward the docks. The sound of water lapping against the shore is faint, but it’s there.

Our way out.

Our escape.

And this time, I’m not afraid.