Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
FOX
T he room reeked even after he’d cleaned up the mess, the wet pile of rags sitting in the corner, letting the smell fester. They hadn’t come back for the rags or to retie his hands. His body ached from the fight and he could feel the subtle sting on his neck where her blade had broken skin, but he had more important things to think about.
He worked carefully in the dark, fingers aching as he twisted and pried. But his mind was elsewhere, haunted by the look in Sofia’s eyes. He’d never seen someone so wild with anger and hate, and toward him, as if he’d personally murdered her loved ones. It made his own stomach turn with acid and heat. How dare she hate him when they were the ones responsible for the death of his loved ones? His family.
And if his gut could be trusted, there was more death coming and soon. The resistance was planning something. She’d asked about the prison and about the chief commander. For all the bombings they’d managed, the resistance had never gotten near the military quarter and Fox wasn’t going to let that happen now.
He let out a curse as a spike of pain went through his finger, the edge of the metal bucket cutting into skin. He sucked on his thumb for a second, letting the salty taste of his own blood coat his tongue before he went back to work.
Sofia may have been mad, but her antics only aided in his escape. The man had thrown some rags at him to clean up the mess, but he hadn’t bothered to look at the bucket. He hadn’t noticed where the side had bent in, snapping the wire handle and leaving the thin bit of wire free to maneuver. It was difficult to bend, the metal cold and hard, but he was making progress, slowly straightening it into a small pick.
At least the pain in his fingers allowed him to direct his focus away from the aches across the rest of his body and thoughts of what the resistance was planning on the other side of the door.
* * *
His fingers were tingling and numb by the time he’d shaped the wire into a pick straight enough to fit into the keyhole. The worst part of the whole experience was that the moment he slipped the metal into the door, the small trace of light from the other side disappeared, leaving him fumbling in the dark trying to feel the inside mechanics. He’d never picked a lock before—it was something they discussed in basic training, but Fox had skipped the advanced courses when he’d been promoted early. He almost laughed at the idea that he might remain trapped here in enemy territory because he was so determined to rise up in the ranks as fast as possible. He didn’t see the point of sitting in classrooms talking about defending their city when he could be out there actually doing it.
Every few minutes he had to take a break to wipe away the blood from his fingers and the wire to stop it from slipping in his grip. It was slow and frustrating work, but if there was one thing Fox was good at, it was sitting with frustration. He was used to feeling useless and helpless. He’d spent the last few cycles trying to run as far from that child version of himself as he could, but that persistent little boy would always be there.
And then it happened. He heard the click of something within the contraption, and the handle moved beneath his hand. For a moment, the air left his lungs and he held himself there, too afraid to move or make a sound. Even the flame on the other side of the door seemed to hold its position, waiting.
When he couldn’t hold his breath any longer, he cracked the door wider, slowly as to not let the hinges give him away. But he needn’t have worried. Only silence greeted him. The hallway beyond was empty.
Reluctant to lose the light from the single lantern hanging on the wall, he nonetheless stepped out of his cell and extinguished the flame. It would be easier to sneak around, but he hated the feel of the shadows settling onto his shoulders again. The air was colder than when he’d first arrived and the hallway remained still as he stood, muscles tense. It seemed that night had fallen. He just needed to make it out of here before anyone saw him.
He walked with a shuffling gait, the toes of his boots moving carefully across the ground with every step, not skimming hard enough to make a sound, but enough to avoid tripping over any imperfections. The tips of his fingers ran along the wall to his right, keeping him centered in the hall. Every turn he took required him to stop and listen for movement before rushing forward and blowing out the next lantern. Perhaps it was stupid to make a trail of darkness for someone to follow, but he felt safer wrapped in shadows. It was also the only reason he knew he wasn’t walking in circles as he took each turn, waiting to see something familiar.
Yet, he nearly stumbled into the main cavern before he realized he’d made it to the entrance. The echoing whispers nearby were the only thing to warn him where he was before he could take the next turn. He stopped, heart thundering in his chest loud enough he feared he might be heard. But the clip of the voices didn’t waver and no one screamed out to grab him. He peeked around the corner, staying low to the ground, only to see a small gathering of people speaking quietly around a fire. They were at the entrance of the cenote, the night sky with its star just visible through the trees and vines above.
It was only once he was crouched there, looking up at the ground so far above that Fox asked himself what he had been thinking. He could almost hear his father’s voice in his mind, berating his stupidity. Of course the entrance would be guarded. He wasn’t climbing out this way without being spotted.
The voices drifted over to him on the wind, and he shivered from more than the cold.
“She might be acting rashly at times, but she may have a point. If they keep executing the prisoners?—”
“I know the risk, better than anyone, but I’m trying to protect as many as I can. If we go running into the city declaring war, too many of us will die.”
“If we sneak in?—”
“That soldier in there is just as likely to get us caught as help us sneak in.”
“That’s what knives are for.”
“Torture won’t earn loyalty.”
“But information?—”
“Perhaps.”
“I vote we kill him and give the kingdom a taste of its own medicine.”
He bit his tongue until it bled. He swallowed, ignoring the tang in his throat and backed away from the turn before he did something stupid like rush out with a bent wire as his only weapon. They were still talking, but he didn’t need to hear more.
With a tight chest, he retraced his steps back to the tunnel from where he’d come, trying to plan as he moved. There had to be another way out of the base. They wouldn’t have a single escape option in case of attack which meant one of these back tunnels exited out somewhere else. He just needed to find which one—in the dark—without being caught.
He didn’t miss the light suddenly growing ahead, a lantern swinging in the dark, but without any other place to go, he was left standing there as it grew brighter, a deer waiting for the hunter’s arrow.
“What in the depths?” the man let out a soft gasp as he turned the corner. His mouth opened, readying to let out a cry as Fox moved. Fox’s hand found the man’s throat before he could finish his intake of air, fingers wrapping tight to choke the scream off. The man’s hands scrambled at his wrist, nails biting into skin, but Fox only pushed hard, the other man’s head smacking against the wall with a thud. The lantern fell to the ground in a crash that had Fox’s blood running cold and the tunnel was thrown into darkness. He used the moment of confusion to twist the man around and press his entire arm into his throat. He barely put up a fight as his body grew heavy.
The man couldn’t even let out a final breathy curse as he slumped, dead against the ground. Not wanting to wait around and be caught with the body, Fox picked up the man, wincing a little at the weight as he moved the last two turns to the room he’d first escaped from. He pulled at the man’s cloak and belt, fumbling in the dark until he had the belt strapped around his own waist, the weight of a dagger comforting at his side. The cloak was a few inches short, but it was heavy and warm as he hooked it around his neck.
He felt no guilt as he shoved the body into the cell and pushed the door closed again as best he could. Without the key to lock it, it didn’t stay shut, but in the pitch black it was impossible to see the door was just slightly ajar. He didn’t have time for perfection. He needed to find the tunnel that led out of here and get back to the city. The last thing he wanted was to still be here when the rebels out in the main cavern decided to kill him.
If he was fast enough, he might be able to bring back a team of guards to raid the cenote before they disappeared. Either way, he knew some faces and names now. He knew the edges of their plans. And he knew that they were going to regret capturing him.