Page 133 of Thunder's Reckoning

Ash moved like water over stone, fast, silent, his blade openin’ the first throat in one clean stroke. Another lunged for me, steel catchin’ the light, but I twisted, fired once into his chest, feelin’ the kick rattle my bones. He hit the dirt at my boots.

The last two hesitated, devotion finally crackin’ under fear. They backed toward the trees, prayers spillin’ from their mouths as they ran into the dark.

Silence dropped, heavy and raw.

I bent, slid Sable tighter against me. Her hand clutched my cut, her voice a broken whisper. “Zeke…”

“I got you, darlin’,” I rasped, kissin’ the top of her head. “Ain’t nothin’ takin’ you back in there.”

Ash wiped his blade on the grass, his eyes catchin’ mine. “Not clear yet. Inside, there’s still more who’d rather die than let her leave.”

I gave a hard nod. “Then let’s end this.”

That’s when I heard it—boots poundin’ through the brush. I spun, gun raised—

Chain burst from the trees, blood down his arm, a woman slung over his shoulder, fightin’ him weakly with what little strength she had left. Her blonde hair was tangled, her face pale but burnin’ with defiance even in her state.

“Got her,” Chain panted, adjusting her on his shoulder. “She was locked up in the guard wing. Last one left.”

“You can put me down,” she snapped, squirming in his arms, but Chain didn’t attempt to put her down.

Chain nodded toward the tunnel, eyes hard, then jerked his chin at me. “Move. We’re burnin’ daylight we don’t got.”

I adjusted Sable in my arms, felt the tremble still runnin’ through her, and followed.

The tunnel pressed down on us the deeper we went, the walls slick with damp and the air thick with the stink of oil-soaked stone. Every step sounded too loud, every breath too heavy, like the earth itself wanted to hold us back.

Ash led the way, one hand brushing the ceiling as if the rock itself would guide him. “Another hundred yards,” he murmured, his voice steady, carved from memory. “Then the shaft. After that, we’re out.”

Behind him, Chain’s boots hit hard, his chest heaving with the weight of Lark now limp in his arms. Her hair was tangled, her face pale, but her chest still rose against him. He’d gone back for her. Found her. Hauled her out of the lion’s den with his own damn hands.

I wrapped an arms tighter around Sable, keepin’ her close, pushin’ her forward when my legs wanted to give out. She didn’t complain. Didn’t whimper. Just trusted me to keep her safe.

The tunnel curved, the air shifting cooler. A breath of wind reached us, faint but sharp enough to cut through the chokehold of the underground. Freedom waited just ahead.

Then came the shouts.

Faint at first. Then sharper. Closer. Boots hittin’ stone. Steel against steel. The sound of men who’d realized they’d been betrayed.

“They’re on us,” I muttered. My voice scraped low, rough as gravel.

“Don’t matter,” Ash snapped, not lookin’ back. “We’re almost there. Just move.”

We moved faster, the shadows stretchin’ longer with each step.

The tunnel opened into the shaft. Rusted iron rungs climbed vertical, leadin’ up into black.

The air hit me first—cold, raw, open. Then the sky. Clouded, storm-heavy, but free.

Gearhead was there, reachin’ down with both arms to take Lark and Sable first. He hauled me up the last stretch like I weighed nothin’. Spinner stood behind him, gun drawn, eyes hard on the black hole of the tunnel.

“You’re clear,” Gearhead said, his breath harsh, his hand squeezin’ my shoulder once before lettin’ go.

The second my boots hit the dirt, Spinner dropped a charge down the tunnel.

The explosion shook the earth beneath us, a roar of fire and rock swallowing the shouts below. The tunnel mouth collapsed in a thunder of stone, sealing shut every voice still inside.

Silence followed.