Page 46 of Knight

“This way.” I guide her toward the east tunnel, keeping a firm grip on her arm.

Her skin is cold—shock, maybe, though the temperature drop down here probably isn’t helping. She follows without arguing, which means she’s either finally learning, or is too exhausted to fight. Given her track record so far, I’d put the seven million I earned from my last job on the latter.

The tunnel curves north along the building’s foundation. Our steps echo no matter how carefully we move, the sound bouncing off concrete in ways that make distance impossible to judge. I trail my hand along the pipes and conduits that feed the upper floors, using them as reference points. The fact I know these routes well enough to navigate blind is likely something Victor will have expected. He always did emphasize how important it was to know your chosen territory.

“How do you know which way to go?” Her voice is strained but steady.

“I memorized the layout when I bought the building. Personal hobby, right up there with not enjoying uninvited guests.”

She stumbles, and I catch her before she headbutts the wall.

“Try not to knock yourself out. I have no problem with leaving you here.”

Her only reply is a sigh.

The pipe configuration changes under my hand, marking our position.

Two minutes.

We need to move faster, but speed means noise, and noise means broadcasting our location through these wonderfully acoustic tunnels. I don’tthinkthere’s anyone down here, but then I didn’t think I’d be spending my day with a prisoner and fighting a computer virus, either. My judgement cannot be trusted right now.

My fingers tighten on her arm as we press forward.

“When did you have time to memorize all of this, andwhy?”

“Between tea parties and social events. I’m very popular.” The sarcasm flows easier than admitting I spent weeks down here mapping every possible escape route, just in case. “Another left here. Ceiling drops. Duck unless you enjoy concussions.”

The passage narrows, forcing us to crouch. Fingers clutch the back of my T-shirt, and the warmth of her body moves closer, as we inch forward. The darkness amplifies every sound. Her quiet breathing, the slight hitch whenever her injured wrists brush the wall.

One minute.

The first explosion drove us into the tunnels. If I’m right, the next one will hit just as we reach the parking structure. Victorhas turned this whole thing into an elaborate dance, with us as his unwilling performers.

“Almost there.” I guide her around the final bend. “Try not to get too excited about the five-star accommodations.”

“Is there an off switch for the sarcasm?”

“No. It comes as standard with the whole homicidal hacker package. Very popular with the ladies.”

The access door materializes, lit up by the soft glow of the electronic lock keypad. I release a quiet sigh of relief at my decision all those years ago not to have it connected to the main power of the building. My fingers find the keypad through memory alone.

“Plus, it helps drown out the sound of terrible life choices. You know … things like trusting strangers on the internet.”

The keypad sequence flows automatically, each press marking another second gone. Victor will have calculated the exact amount of time this would take, right down to the last millisecond. He always did appreciate precision in his work.

Precision and pain. Usually in equal measures. Because apparently lessons are learned better when they hurt you.

The lock disengages with around thirty seconds left on the countdown clock. Not enough time to find alternate cover, not down here in the maintenance level. The door opens into the parking structure’s lower level, and we step through into a space that feels massive after the tunnels.

The explosion that hits from above sounds different from the others. More focused. More controlled. Steel barriers slam down across every exit, the sound of hydraulics punctuated by the heavy thud of metal meeting concrete.

Fuck.

The parking level’s emergency systems engage, flooding the space with harsh fluorescent light that makes my eyes burn while they fight to adjust to the brightness.

Perfect fucking timing. Because of course it is.

“He’s been playing me from the start.” I mutter the words while I scan the sealed exits, recognizing the brutality of our isolation. “Every move. Every decision. He knows exactly what I’m going to do before I do it.”

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