Page 31 of Trapped with the Undercover Prince

A crooked, unrepentant grin briefly lifted one corner of his mouth. “I’m sorry I frightened you.”

“Frightened doesn’t cover half of it.” She glanced down. The person he’d rescued was shrouded in shadows and soot. “Who’s this?”

“Charles. He’s breathing, but...”

Anna ran her hands over the man to try and ascertain if he had any noticeable injuries. A few lacerations, but the bleeding wasn’t too bad. Blood coated one side of his face, and she found a large bump on his head. A more thorough examination would have to wait until they found someplace safer and with more light. “Probably smoke inhalation and a concussion, but he may have other injuries. First priority is oxygen.”

Zar’s shoulders drooped. “An impossibility at the moment.”

She glanced over her shoulder at the burning car. “Did you see anyone else?”

“No one alive.”

From the grim set of his jaw, Anna didn’t need to be told what horrors he’d seen. She laid a hand on his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

Zar only nodded once, but the tight line of his mouth loosened a little.

“Your Highness, it’s not safe here,” Jean Paul yelled, pointing at the growing flames and smoke behind them.

Zar glanced back then nodded at Jean Paul. “Let’s try to get around this car.”

Zar and Jeal Paul carried Charles, while Anna helped Marc. They stumbled along the car and found enough room on the other side of the tunnel to get around it. The footing was difficult to make out, but the tracks were regularly spaced, and she quickly figured out their rhythm.

A tear in the back of Zar’s shirt along with a dark, wet streak caught Anna’s attention, and she called out to him.

He stopped and turned to look at her.

“Can we stop for a moment? I want to take a look at your back.”

“It’s nothing. We need to keep moving.”

“You’re injured.”

“It’s just a scratch. I promise, you can examine me as soon as we find a safe place.”

She didn’t like it but couldn’t argue with his logic. “Fine.”

He and Jean Paul continued past two cars that had been pushed flush along one side of the tunnel.

Marc stumbled and nearly pulled her down with him. As she struggled to get him back on his feet, she noted that he was shaking, breathing very fast, and coughing too much.

“How much farther?” she called out.

“Emergency exits are spaced every three hundred and twenty-five meters and lead into a ventilated parallel tunnel where we can get away from the fire,” Zar answered.

“Is that why we’re not choking to death on all this smoke?”

“The venting system is aggressive. Positive pressure will prevent smoke from getting into the unaffected tunnel.”

Jean Paul said something in French, and though she didn’t know exactly what he said, his jubilant tone was enough to tell her it was good news. She craned her head to see what had caught his attention and saw a large, bright green recessed doorway. The lighting was better there, and other people, survivors of the train wreck, were making their way through a set of double doors.

Zar and Jean Paul picked up their pace.

“It’s not much farther,” she told Marc, who was struggling to stay upright.

He glanced up, saw the exit, and nodded. Having the end of their search for safety in sight gave him the energy needed to move along a little faster.

By the time they limped through the doorway and into a new, smoke-free, endless tunnel, it was all she could do to keep Marc from collapsing on the floor. She managed to get him within a few feet of where Zar and Jean Paul laid Charles down.

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