LEONARDO ANNISON
Oliver's fingers dug into my wrist. "There's another way out."
Of course there was.
I didn't ask how he knew. Just followed as he crawled toward a side drain, the icy water soaking through my clothes. The passage narrowed until we were forced to move single file, the darkness pressing in like a physical weight.
Behind us, the shouts grew louder. Closer.
Then—
Light.
The drain spilled out into a riverbank, the cold air biting at my exposed skin. The extraction point was half a mile downstream. If we could make it—
Oliver gasped.
I turned just in time to see him crumple, his knees giving out. Blood soaked through his bandages, the dark stain spreading too fast.
"Oliver!"
His eyelids fluttered. "'M fine," he slurred.
He wasn't.
Charles grabbed my shoulder. "We can't carry him."
Like hell we couldn't.
I hauled Oliver up, his weight heavy against my chest. His breath came in shallow puffs against my neck, his skin frighteningly cold.
