Page 63 of Hunted to Be Mine
Blood smeared his clean gear when I spat. “Then negotiate this.”
I brought my knee up and caught him in the groin. Pain conditioning only goes so far. He folded a fraction. Enough. I hammered his temple.
He stumbled. I didn’t waste it. I dove through the maintenance door and slammed it behind me.
The corridor stretched both ways under dim emergency lights. Selina waited at an intersection about thirty meters ahead.
“Run!” My steps hammered the concrete as the door shook behind me.
We tore through the tunnels, turning at random, putting concrete between us and him. Everything looked the same. The lights made a repeating pattern that messed with distance and time.
“Do you know where we’re going?” she asked at the next intersection, breath ragged.
“Away from him.” I wiped blood from my mouth. “For now, that’s enough.”
I listened. The tunnels threw sound everywhere. My side burned where his knee had found ribs. Cracked? Maybe. Definitely not happy.
“You’re hurt,” she said, keeping pace.
“It’ll keep.” I checked the magazine. Two rounds left. Not enough. I had the other pistol in my pocket and kept that card close. “We need the surface. And a ride.”
She pointed at a ladder at the end of the hall. “That might go up.”
We moved in, cautious. The ladder climbed through a narrow shaft to a hatch. I holstered the gun and tested the rungs.
“I’ll go first. If it’s clear, I’ll bring you up.”
The climb lit every rib again. At the top, I pushed. The hatch stuck, then gave. Cold flecks drifted through the gap. I checked the outside.
An industrial yard: abandoned machinery in the dusk, rusted frames against the night. No movement.
I pushed the hatch open, climbed out, scanned again, then waved her up. She climbed fast. I reached down and pulled her the last bit.
“Where are we?” she asked, breath fogging.
“Factory yard. Abandoned, looks like.” I looked for anchors. Prague Castle’s spires glowed far off. “Still Karlín. Closer to the river.”
Snow came faster now, heavy flakes in the wind. It would cover our tracks. Good and bad.
“We keep moving.” I checked for exits.
Chain-link fence wrapped the property, topped with tired barbed wire. On the street beyond, occasional headlights could be seen. Freedom there, if we could reach it.
We threaded the dead machines, our steps soft under fresh snow. The city hum stayed in the distance. The quiet here felt wrong.
Then the hatch clicked.
He’d found us.
“Run.” I sent Selina for the fence. “Don’t stop. Don’t look back.”
We went for it, speed over stealth. Fresh powder made every step a gamble. Behind us, movement pressed close.
The fence rose ahead: two and a half meters with barbed wire. Not impossible. Not easy with half-broken ribs.
“I’ll boost you. Over the top, then run to the street. Find a crowd.”
“Not without you.”
