Page 269 of Entangled

Dom’s jaw is hard when he picks up his radio. “Did not copy. Say again. Over.”

The answering silence is loud.

“Acknowledge, soldiers. Over,” he tries again.

I stare at Dom’s silhouette like my silent command will make them speak. Whathappened?

Dom slams his radio back in its pouch.

The tunnels feel like a coffin all around me. “What do we do? Do we go and find them? Wait?”

“No,” Heather answers, coming up beside me. “We’re not missing this chance. Whatever their problem is, they need to sort it out themselves.”

“We’re not going into the Den until we know it’s clear,” Dom claps back. He stops, then rubs a hand over his jaw. “It could have been anything. Going up there now could cause more problems. We move into position and wait for word. If we don’t hear anything in fifteen, then we’ll scout out what happened.”

“Dom—” Heather starts, her voice razor sharp.

“He’s right, Madison,” I say firmly, trying to strangle the fear clawing its way up my throat. I can feel her desperation tainting the musty air. “Let’s follow the plan.”

She hesitates. “Fine.Fine.”

We turn back to keep moving when the tunnel shakes with a distant, sonorousboom. Rocks tumble from the walls, and my boots vibrate for a long moment before it stops.

Bombs. Lucky had bombs. Bombs are normal in this situation.

But Beau needing to run ‘like his life depends on it’ isnot.

“What the fuckity fuck was that?” Ava snaps from somewhere to my left.

“That was a bomb,” Sloane replies, grim and dark.

“Bombs were part of the plan. Keep moving.” Dom’s steadiness helps, and I clamp my mouth shut as I step after him.

We need more information. They’re fine. They’re probably fine. Lucky warned Beau, and they can’t talk now because they’re getting themselves to safety. Fear snakes through my veins, and without speaking, everyone picks up the pace.

Dom swings his flashlight up, checking the wall again, then lowers it to the ground in front of us so we can see where we’re walking. He breathes in sharply. When I glance at him, the exhale comes out slow and easy, almost casual.. . but there’s a stoniness to his expression that wasn’t there before. I’m too jumpy already, and I’m expecting it now.

There’s something wrong.

My eyes follow his, scanning the ground—and I see it. There are big, snaking tracks through the dust. Footprints. The Red Zone scouts did come through here a few days ago... but there’s a lot more tracks than two people would account for.

Swallowing, I glance at Dom, and he tilts his chin just slightly.No. Don’t say anything.

My palm becomes clammy around the Beretta I barely know how to use. I squint into the darkness, though I know it’s pointless. I’m not sure how much my poor vision is contributing, even with my glasses on, but I can’t see anything except the haloed radiance of our flashlight and the silhouettes of our team.

Someone could be three feet from me, and I would have no idea.

“Heather, you remember the night we met?” Dom calls back casually.

There’s a slight, almost imperceptible pause before she answers. “Pretty night. Full of fireflies.”

To my right, Sloane coughs loudly, and pauses to lean on our sole Red Zone addition, Gemma. They straighten after a moment, and Sloane mutters, “Sorry.”

Nervous energy broils inside me, and one by one, I sense it slowly envelop our whole group. I can’t even say how I know it, because they continue on as normal, nothing outwardly different. And I don’t know how, or what they’ve said to tip them off, and maybe it’s only becauseIknow there’s danger that I can feel it, but Iknowthe information has been silently passed around our group.

We’re not alone.

Dom shines the light against the wall where there’s a chalk marking of a big star next to a ladder that leads up to a large metal manhole.

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