Page 86 of Whispers of the Dead

We’re not going to make it.

“Yes, we are, blondie,” Damon says, and I realize I must have said it out loud.

Ahead, a pale glow comes into view, and hope flares within me. Until the torchlight catches metal bars.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” Cole skids to a stop and slams his fist against the rusted gate. It’s locked.

Damon sets the torch on the ground to lean against the wall, and grabs the gate. He rattles them so hard they screech. “Find something to pick the lock.”

Lola’s barks turn frantic, and she runs around in circles before pawing at the gate.

“Not another set of bars,” I groan.

Cole kicks the gate, but it doesn’t budge. Damon reaches through the bars for the littered objects on the other side. He grabs a thin scrap of metal, then works at the lock, his brow furrowing in concentration.

Another round of small stones falls from the ceiling. Benji curls around me, ducking his head, shielding me whenmore large chunks overhead break loose. Lola growls low and backs up toward me. She barks at the offensive, falling debris. When I peek out from beneath Benji, I see Cole digging around for anything useful. He grabs pebbles and scrap metal from the ground to pound against the metal gate. Then, when that doesn’t work, he tries to use them as tools to pry it open.

The tunnel ceiling starts to give behind us. The ground shakes with a violence that freezes my veins. Louder cracks. More rocks. Larger chunks. They smash against the floor, with some missing us by a hair. Some land on Benji, bruising his body while he blocks the falling debris from hitting me. His arms curl around my body with a protectiveness I’ve never known. We’re seconds away from being buried alive.

I lift my head and blink through the dust and chaos, and I see it. A shadow shifts beyond the bars. A shuffling sound that somehow cuts through the deafening chaos of the tunnel caving in. My breath catches. Someone’s out there.

Before I can say anything, the lock clicks open, the gate swings wide, and we run. Lola dashes ahead, barking her wild little head off, leading the way.

The second we burst through, the tunnel collapses behind us in a violent explosion of dust and rubble that blasts outward. It forces us off our feet. Benji’s grip on me slips, and I fly out of his arms. I hit the ground hard, and my body rolls into something warm.

I blink through the haze of dust with a groan. My palms scrape against cold concrete, and small pebbles dig into my skin. “Sorry,” I breathe out, then push myself up.

“Who are you talking to?” Benji’s voice comes from somewhere behind me.

I frown and shift onto my knees. When I reach out, my hand presses into something warm and sticky, and I freeze. When I pull my hand back, it’s covered in blood.

A cold chill snakes down my spine. My gaze snapsforward. A body slumps against a pillar, with sightless eyes staring ahead, frozen in death. Blood coats his chest, and his fingers still clutch a gun.

I recognize the face. “Avery’s man. He was supposed to open the gate for us.”

Damon yanks me back against his chest. His grip tightens around my arms when stares down at the dead man in front of us. “Guess we were right,” he mutters, the truth sending dread coursing through me. “Avery’s got a traitor.”

My pulse roars in my ears, and I scan the low-lit abandoned parking garage. “I saw something. Right before we got through the gate. Someone was?—”

A dark chuckle slithers through the air. My body goes rigid. Damon’s grip tightens, his fingertips digging into my skin. Lola lets out a deep warning growl. Her short fur bristles, and her stance is low and tense.

“Well, well, well.” A single figure emerges from the shadows with a limp. A grin stretches across Eugene’s face. That, coupled with the streaks of blood across his face and arms, makes him look more unhinged than I could have ever imagined. “Took you long enough.”

More figures step forward from the shadows. Their weapons glint in the dim light that streams in through the cracks in the cement ceiling. Guns click into place.

Lola’s bark is fierce, and she lunges forward before circling back to stand directly in front of me. Her tail is low, her body rigid, and her teeth bared.

“What’s going on?” is the only thing I can think to say. The question is pointless.

“It’s a fucking ambush,” Damon growls.

The parking garage is silent,but the tension thick in the air could almost pass for a living thing. It presses against myribs, thick and suffocating. The realization of what’s happening grips me by the throat and fills me with terror.

Dim light filters through fractured concrete, casting long, jagged shadows across rusted-out cars. Vines creep down from the ceiling, stretching like twisting fingers toward the abandoned vehicles below. The scent of mildew, oil, and rot clings to the damp air.

Eugene stands between us and freedom, blocking our only exit.

Half his shirt is stained with red from where I stabbed him. Blood splatters his jaw, and something in his dark eyes looks completely unhinged. More feral than I ever thought possible. The few dregs still standing with him shift on uneasy feet, and exchange glances. This might be the crack in his control we need.

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