Page 74 of Run of Ruin

When.

“One down,” I whispered, my voice ragged and hoarse in the confined air pocket. No time to savor the win.

I drew in another deep breath, pushing off the wall and plunging forward into the next stretch of tunnels, my mind already calculating, how long until the next air pocket? How many pieces were out there? How fast was the tank filling?

No time.

I swam harder.

By the time I reached the next pocket of air, my chest felt like it was caving in. Every muscle in my body screamed for rest, for warmth, for oxygen. I’d come across two decoy pieces and one nozzle I actually needed. Three more pieces. Three more, and then I had to somehow find my way back to the tank. Back to Ezra. The thought alone made my head swim, whether from determination or the steadily growing lack of air, I wasn’t sure.

I probably lingered too long in that tiny chamber, greedily dragging in precious, ragged breaths of the stale, metallic air. My head throbbed, a pulse pounding between my temples like a drumbeat, and dark spots bloomed at the edges of my vision.

A sudden splash tore through the silence.

A figure burst up beside me, water surging with the movement, and I jerked back in alarm, my shoulders slamming against the cold, slick wall. The chamber was barely big enough for one of us, let alone two.

It was Devrin, Saltspire’s elected. His wild, furious eyes met mine as he surfaced beside me, gasping like a drowning man, a low, feral growl rising from his throat. He sucked in a breath and then his gaze dropped to my hands.

To the objects I held.

I followed his gaze and felt my stomach drop. His hands were empty. No tubes. No nozzles. Nothing.

Panic bolted through me.

“No-” I managed to utter, voice ragged and cracked, but he was already moving.

Devrin surged forward, shoving through the water with vicious intent. His hands clamped down on my shoulders and drove me back against the wall, my head snapping against the cement with a sickening crack. A burst of pain exploded through the back of my skull, hot and cold at once, and the world tilted sideways.

“Stop!” I shouted, thrashing in his iron grip, but my limbs felt sluggish, disobedient.

His hands slid down, rough and possessive, searching, until they found the tube and nozzle clutched against my chest. He yanked, trying to rip them from my grasp.

Instinct took over. I shoved my foot between us and kicked, catching him square between the legs.

He let out a sharp, strangled noise of pain.

“Shit,” he spat, rage twisting his face, but I didn’t wait for him to recover.

I wrenched myself free, pushed off the wall, and dove, my body burning with effort as I swam through the dark, churning water. The cold bit at my skin, every stroke a war against my weakening limbs.

It wasn’t until the water around me began to bloom in cloudy, crimson ribbons that I realized what had happened.

I was bleeding.

I felt it now, a warmth spilling from the wound, mingling with the cold water. My head throbbed, my vision blurred, and nausea twisted my gut. I needed air. I needed to stop the bleeding. I needed to get away from Devrin.

I swam harder.

If there was one advantage, it was that the spreading blood would cloud the water, making it harder for him to see me if he was still following. Clutching the nozzle and tube, I shoved them down the front of my wetsuit, tucking them tight against my chest. It was uncomfortable, heavy, but at least they were hidden.

As I swam, I scoured the floor of the tunnel with my blurred, stinging eyes. I snatched up the first two items my fingers brushed against, whatever they were, and pushed onward. My vision dimmed, and I fought to stay conscious.

Then I hit something.

A body.

I braced for another attack, heart hammering, but when I looked up, relief flooded through me so suddenly I nearly sobbed.

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