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S houts echo from another part of the building, mingling with the deafening ring. I’ve got to disappear, right fucking now.

With my heart speeding out ahead of me, I pick a direction and pray it’s the right one—if such a thing exists around here. Way down at the end of this hall, a door without a keypad catches my eye. Though it might lead to more trouble, or a dead end, the footsteps heading in my direction give me no time to second guess it.

I break into a run, speeding away from my pursuers in search of a place to hide, the ogre’s untied clodhoppers making me stumble over my own feet. When I reach the end, I keep going, like a battering ram. The closed door barely slows my fall as it swings open into an unmarked stairway.

With nothing on the other side to slow my trajectory, I tumble forward—and down. Bouncing and rolling, gaining momentum, until I’m stopped abruptly by an especially cold, hard floor. Concrete.

The last reserves of air in my lungs leaves on a groan. Goddamn, that hurt.

I lie there, blinking through the stunned haze. The door I fell through swings shut, leaving me in the dark. I’m bruised but whole, I think, and there’s no time to do more than roll out of the way in case someone spotted me. I flatten myself next to the stairs and regroup.

After a few seconds, my eyes adjust enough to realize that it’s not as pitch black as I first thought. A few dim squares of light filter through high, rectangular windows on one side of the expansive space.

I seem to have found my way into a basement.

One with windows that have a chance of opening.

Fuck, please open.

Overhead, on the main floor, the alarm still blares, gathering the forces in search of the escapee. Me. I have no idea how many people work in this place, as I’ve never seen more than a few, but they must all be out hunting now. The trick will be to stay out of their way while they’re distracted, so I can work on finding the best way out of here.

Everly’s life might depend on how quickly I can bring help back. There was something in her voice before Roger came in, and she faded out. Like she didn’t have much left in her.

I swear, if she gives up five minutes before I get us the fuck out of here…

The thought makes me vaguely nauseous.

It’s just a fever; she’ll be fine.

Rising into a crouch, I pan my gaze from left to right. The room sprawls out behind me into complete darkness—there’s no telling what’s back there—but beneath the windows, I can make out a few shapes lining the walls. Shelves stacked with supplies, some cages big enough to house very large animals, and a table in the center.

Keeping myself bent enough to move forward, yet able to dive under something if that door at the top of the stairs opens, I head for the windows.

Passing the table, I see the glint of light off metal, and the adjustable legs ending in wheels that indicate medical equipment.

My mind pings to Everly’s procedures, and whatever else might happen down here.

I’m not going to think too hard about that.

The windows are high enough that it will be tricky to pull myself up and out, especially considering my shoulder injury, and dingy enough to obscure my vision. Not optimal, but my other choice is going upstairs and out the front door. Balancing on my toes, I push up on the window frame.

Nothing. Fuck.

Next, I try pushing out. It sticks for a second but gives, pushing out at an angle that stops halfway, which is going to be tricky to squeeze my ass through. That explains why they don’t have this area secured better.

Fortunately for me, there’s a wire-shelving unit close enough for me to wheel over and give myself a boost. Then, just as I get my head through the opening and take a breath of air that’s less fresh than I anticipated, there’s a noise at the top of the stairs.

My heart hammers, my first instinct being to keep going and run, but my gut says that’s a good way to get caught. I don’t know what’s out there. So, I pull back in and drop down, squeezing behind the shelf, which does little to hide me, just as a sliver of light shines through the cracked door.

The alarm stops abruptly.

I don’t dare breathe; if someone shines a flashlight in this direction, I’m done for.

The light widens. A pair of shoes appear on the top step. I glance at the shelf in hopes there’s something easy to use as a weapon if needed, but all I see are boxes of useless medical supplies. Gauze and shit.

“What’re you doing, Harris?” The voice comes from somewhere beyond the door.

“Checking the basement.” The man pauses on the stairs, aiming a beam of light toward the right, the opposite direction from where I stand smashed against the wall.

Shit, shit, shit.

“Perimeter first,” the voice calls. “There are a zillion other buildings we need to go through. Gonzalez is already making the rounds inside. He’s almost done in the east wing and will head here next. You’re outside, with me.”

The feet move back. The light disappears.

My throat dries. I’ve got to get out of this window and hide before Harris and his partner make it around to this side of the perimeter. If I stay here any longer, I’ll have Gonzalez to deal with. Good news is it sounds like there are plenty of places to hunker down outside, as long as I pick one that’s already been searched.

Using the shelving as a ladder, I’m able to push my upper body up and out the window, watching for signs of anyone within my line of sight. From the look of the dumpsters, which are in serious need of emptying, I’m at the back of the building. After a precarious push-pull-shimmy maneuver—made more painful over a bed of gravel—I stand, pressing my back to a wall of old, white-painted brick.

In front of me, a tall wooden fence surrounds a square area, and from the rank, burnt smell, I’m guessing it houses an incinerator. We appear to be in the middle of nowhere. There are no visible roads, no buildings besides the numerous sheds and shipping containers that belong to whatever this place is. I have no fucking clue.

The tree line looms an acre away. An oasis, with a stretch of dry, brown grass in between. It feels like a taunt— you can hide here, but good luck making it that far without being seen .

The crunch of footsteps alerts me to the presence of one of the men searching the perimeter. My nerves tingle, but panicking will do me no good, and I’d be a fool to try to make it to the trees in time. My options basically consist of taking him down and hoping his partner isn’t nearby, or finding a place to hide, fast.

When he walks through the gate of the fenced area, I know he won’t be in there long. That leaves only one place to go, and it’s one they may not thoroughly search.

Several seconds later, I’m buried among bags of stinking, rotting garbage. Not ideal, but it’s better than being dead. Probably.

I’m going to have to wait these fuckers out, possibly until nightfall, and hope this place isn’t well-lit. Then I’ll sneak away, find a road, and get the hell out.

But when my stomach curdles again, it has nothing to do with the stench surrounding me. Because once I leave here, there will be nothing I can do to help Everly until I get back with reinforcements. She’ll be on her own, and I?—

“How the hell did this happen?” That’s Harris, standing right outside my dumpster. “We’ve never had a problem with security.”

“It was that fucking cop. I knew keeping him around for so long was going to be trouble.”

Well, I guess that answers the question of how much they know about me.

There’s the sound of someone rifling around garbage bags in a dumpster nearby. Flies buzz above me. Bile rises in my throat. My muscles coil, prepared to fight amid the garbage. Maybe I can vomit on them as a distraction; that seems legitimate right about now.

“Had a bad feeling about that motherfucker. How’d he get out?”

“He was working with the bitch in the room next to him. The hot one.”

“Damn, I hope she doesn’t have a bullet in her brain yet. I was hoping to get a piece of that before she’s finally offed. Been waiting for them to be done with her.”

From the depths of the dumpster, I seethe. I’m truly considering my odds of popping out of this pile of trash, catching them off guard, and snapping their goddamn necks before anyone has a chance to pull a gun on me.

Then the sound of footsteps moves away.

“Come on, man. He ain’t in there. Let’s check the other buildings, so we can say we did.”

“Yeah. He’s probably reached the road already. It’s been at least fifteen minutes since he knocked Oxley out. Maybe more.”

A laugh. “Wouldn’t want to be him right now. That guy is so fucked.”

Oxley… He must mean Roger.

Shit, I should have killed that bastard, rather than running the risk of him causing trouble later. It might have taken extra time, but I could have taken him, then picked off everyone else in this godforsaken place, one by one. Then I’d find that hourglass-wielding motherfucker they answer to, lock him in one of those cages in the basement, and take my time before dropping him in the incinerator where he belongs.

It’s kind of funny how easy it’s been to go from being an enforcer of justice to what the guys on the force would refer to as vigilantism, but from the moment I decided I wasn’t waiting any longer for them to take their heads out of their asses, it was always the plan. To wipe this organization off the face of the earth myself.

I didn’t care if it was a suicide mission.

I’m fucking over it.

Hell, a couple months ago, I would have blown this place sky-high—taken them all out in one fell swoop—without much thought of innocents getting caught in the crossfire, as long as these assholes were gone.

And now…

Now, rather than taking the opportunity to smash these motherfuckers like the cockroaches they are, I’m running the risk of letting Sara’s killers get away while I go off to bring back help, of all things. It’s a waste of time, when I could take care of this on my own, the messy way.

But all that time spent talking to the girl in the next room shifted my plans. The innocents are more than nameless, faceless casualties. And then there’s Everly, who knows me down to the depths of my festering soul.

Christ, I have a problem.

I exhale, immediately regretting it, since it means taking another breath of garbage air.

Forget the girl, Porter. You’re a dumbass.

But being out of that room has given me clarity, and I can’t shake the feeling that after two years of surviving in that tiny room, Everly Cross won’t be leaving this building alive. That after coming this close, she won’t be seeing me, or anyone else, at all.

I feel it in my gut.

As the men leave, and I lift myself out of the dumpster, I remember something she once said:

“Have you ever made a decision you regret, Isaac?”

I look out into the expanse of dry grass and freedom, then back to the basement window.

And I’m afraid I’m about to.