Chapter Sixty-Six
THE NIGHT AIR hit me like a fist. Cold. Wet.
Storm clouds rollin’ heavy overhead, wind cuttin’ through the trees like the world itself was holdin’ its breath.
I staggered out of the hall with Sable in my arms, her weight pressed tight against my chest, and for a second all I could hear was the echo of that blade at her throat.
The way her blood dripped down her skin.
Goddamn near lost her.
I forced the thought down hard. Couldn’t let it root. Not here. Not now.
I staggered out of the hall with Sable in my arms, her body limp against me, her veil half torn and dress streaked with soot. She stirred faint, her lips brushin’ my throat.
“Zeke…”
Her voice was so soft I damn near thought I imagined it. My chest cracked wide at the sound, but I kept movin’, boots hittin’ hard against the stone. Couldn’t stop. Not yet.
Chain was waitin’ at the edge of the courtyard, rifle slung across his chest, eyes sweepin’ every shadow. Soon as he saw us, he gave a sharp nod. “Kids are clear. Got your momma too. They’re movin’ through the tunnel. Safe.”
Safe.
The word hit me like a hammer, but I couldn’t let it land, not with Sable shakin’ in my arms and the fire still roarin’ behind us. I pressed my lips to her hair, whisperin’ low, “You hear that, darlin’? Zara and Malik are safe. Momma too.”
Her lashes fluttered, her breath hitchin’ ragged. “You came…”
“Always,” I rasped, holdin’ her tighter.
Ash stepped outta the shadows then, knife still wet, silver hair flashin’ with the lightning. He looked like he’d been carved straight outta the storm itself. “Everyone who wanted out is in the tunnel,” he said, his voice clipped. “They’re moving already. We did it.”
But his jaw locked, and I saw the shift comin’ before he spoke. “All but one.”
Chain turned sharp. “Who?”
“Lark,” Ash said, his tone grim. “She never made it to the meet. Last I heard, she was seen in the guard wing. If she’s not in the tunnel, they pulled her before the wine hit.”
Chain’s hand tightened on his rifle. “Then that’s where I’ll start.”
“Chain—” I started, but he cut me off with a shake of his head.
“You got your woman. You got your family. You get ‘em out,” he said steady. “I’ll find the girl.”
Ash stepped closer, steady as stone. “The guard wing’s two halls over. North corner. If she’s still alive, that’s where they’d hold her.” His eyes flicked to Chain, searing. “You’ll need to be fast. They’ll be scrambling now that the hall’s blown wide.”
Chain nodded once, rifle tight in his grip. “Then I’ll be faster.” And just like that, he was gone, slippin’ into the smoke-choked dark without another word.
Sable shifted weak in my arms, her fingers clutchin’ at my cut like she was afraid I’d vanish. “Don’t… leave me,” she whispered.
My throat burned raw. “I’m never leavin’ you again,” I swore, my voice thick as the storm rollin’ above.
Ash was at my side now, calm and deliberate. “Come on,” he said. “We get her to the tunnel before more guards wake up and flood this courtyard.”
I tightened my grip on Sable, teeth grit. “Then let’s move.”
I didn’t look back at the Flame Hall. Didn’t need to. The fire was already eatin’ it from the inside out.
All that mattered now was the tunnel, the ones waitin’ at the other end, and the vow I’d kept.
***
THE TUNNEL MOUTH loomed ahead, just a dark crack in the stone, half-hidden by roots and rock, but it felt like salvation carved into the earth.
We’d almost made it.
Then the shadows shifted.
Figures slipped outta the tree line, robes pale as bone in the storm light. Five at least, maybe more. Their eyes burned hollow, wild with devotion. Knives glinted. One bastard cocked a shotgun, the sound loud as thunder.
“Fuck,” I muttered, shiftin’ Sable higher in my arms, feelin’ her breath shallow against my throat. Couldn’t set her down. Couldn’t risk her caught in the crossfire. My pistol came up instead, steady even with fire roarin’ through my chest.
Ash stepped in front of me, his knife loose in his grip, voice low but cuttin’ clear across the clearin’. “It’s over. Gabrial’s dead. Burned in his own flame. You don’t owe him anymore.”
One of the men sneered, spit flyin’ with his words. “The Prophet don’t die. He rises in fire. He lives in us.”
The others murmured after him, prayers rollin’ through their throats like curses.
I bared my teeth, raised my pistol higher. “Last warnin’. Step aside, or I’ll put you in the dirt where your Prophet can’t reach.”
The shotgun came up too fast.
I fired.
The man dropped, body jerkin’ back, the echo thunderin’ through the pines. The rest broke loose, knives flashin’, robes flyin’ as they charged.
Ash moved like water over stone, fast, silent, his blade openin’ the first throat in one clean stroke. Another lunged for me, steel catchin’ the light, but I twisted, fired once into his chest, feelin’ the kick rattle my bones. He hit the dirt at my boots.
The last two hesitated, devotion finally crackin’ under fear. They backed toward the trees, prayers spillin’ from their mouths as they ran into the dark.
Silence dropped, heavy and raw.
I bent, slid Sable tighter against me. Her hand clutched my cut, her voice a broken whisper. “Zeke…”
“I got you, darlin’,” I rasped, kissin’ the top of her head. “Ain’t nothin’ takin’ you back in there.”
Ash wiped his blade on the grass, his eyes catchin’ mine. “Not clear yet. Inside, there’s still more who’d rather die than let her leave.”
I gave a hard nod. “Then let’s end this.”
That’s when I heard it—boots poundin’ through the brush. I spun, gun raised—
Chain burst from the trees, blood down his arm, a woman slung over his shoulder, fightin’ him weakly with what little strength she had left. Her blonde hair was tangled, her face pale but burnin’ with defiance even in her state.
“Got her,” Chain panted, adjusting her on his shoulder. “She was locked up in the guard wing. Last one left.”
“You can put me down,” she snapped, squirming in his arms, but Chain didn’t attempt to put her down.
Chain nodded toward the tunnel, eyes hard, then jerked his chin at me. “Move. We’re burnin’ daylight we don’t got.”
I adjusted Sable in my arms, felt the tremble still runnin’ through her, and followed.
The tunnel pressed down on us the deeper we went, the walls slick with damp and the air thick with the stink of oil-soaked stone. Every step sounded too loud, every breath too heavy, like the earth itself wanted to hold us back.
Ash led the way, one hand brushing the ceiling as if the rock itself would guide him. “Another hundred yards,” he murmured, his voice steady, carved from memory. “Then the shaft. After that, we’re out.”
Behind him, Chain’s boots hit hard, his chest heaving with the weight of Lark now limp in his arms. Her hair was tangled, her face pale, but her chest still rose against him. He’d gone back for her. Found her. Hauled her out of the lion’s den with his own damn hands.
I wrapped an arms tighter around Sable, keepin’ her close, pushin’ her forward when my legs wanted to give out. She didn’t complain. Didn’t whimper. Just trusted me to keep her safe.
The tunnel curved, the air shifting cooler. A breath of wind reached us, faint but sharp enough to cut through the chokehold of the underground. Freedom waited just ahead.
Then came the shouts.
Faint at first. Then sharper. Closer. Boots hittin’ stone. Steel against steel. The sound of men who’d realized they’d been betrayed.
“They’re on us,” I muttered. My voice scraped low, rough as gravel.
“Don’t matter,” Ash snapped, not lookin’ back. “We’re almost there. Just move.”
We moved faster, the shadows stretchin’ longer with each step.
The tunnel opened into the shaft. Rusted iron rungs climbed vertical, leadin’ up into black.
The air hit me first—cold, raw, open. Then the sky. Clouded, storm-heavy, but free.
Gearhead was there, reachin’ down with both arms to take Lark and Sable first. He hauled me up the last stretch like I weighed nothin’. Spinner stood behind him, gun drawn, eyes hard on the black hole of the tunnel.
“You’re clear,” Gearhead said, his breath harsh, his hand squeezin’ my shoulder once before lettin’ go.
The second my boots hit the dirt, Spinner dropped a charge down the tunnel.
The explosion shook the earth beneath us, a roar of fire and rock swallowing the shouts below. The tunnel mouth collapsed in a thunder of stone, sealing shut every voice still inside.
Silence followed.
Heavy. Final.
I pulled Sable against me, buryin’ her in my arms, feelin’ the tremor in her chest and the heat of her breath. My heart was still racin’, still caught between fury and relief, but I didn’t let her go. Not now.
“We’re out,” I muttered into her hair. My voice was low, rough, a promise. “We’re out, darlin’. Ain’t nothin’ takin’ you back down there again.”
The night stretched wide around us, storm clouds churnin’ overhead. The world wasn’t safe yet. But for the first time in years, I could breathe like it might be.
The night air hit like a fist, wet and cold, sharp enough to burn the lungs after the choke of the tunnel. For a second, all I could do was hold her, breath tangled with Sable’s as the world kept spinnin’ without us.
But then the others closed in.
Gearhead’s hand was firm on my shoulder, pullin’ me back to the here and now. “Come on, brother. It’s not safe to stop.”
He was right. Always was.
The treeline broke open into a narrow cut of dirt where the van waited with the back doors wide. Its paint was black, the windows tinted, the whole damn thing lookin’ like a coffin on wheels. But tonight it was salvation.
Spinner was already inside, reachin’ out.
Chain helped Lark forward, her head lollin’ against his chest, her face pale as bone.
He didn’t let go ’til she was strapped onto the bench, and even then, his jaw was locked tight like he was ready to dive back down the tunnel if she so much as stirred wrong.
Sable’s bare feet dragged in the dirt, her body still tremblin’ against me. I lifted her easy, her weight nothin’ in my arms compared to what I’d just carried out of that hell. She didn’t speak. Just buried her face against my cut like she could disappear inside it.
I laid her in the van, careful as if she was glass, my hands lingerin’ just long enough to make her look at me. Her eyes caught mine, and I swore the fire of that place was still flickerin’ there. But she was here. Alive.
“You hold on,” I whispered, low enough only she heard. “We’re almost home.”
Spinner slammed the doors shut. The sound cracked like a gunshot in the night.
Engines rumbled to life behind me. Devil’s bike first, low and mean. Then Gearhead. Then Chain. One by one, my brothers brought the night back to life, the growl of chrome and thunder roarin’ against the storm clouds.
I swung a leg over my own, the leather seat slick with dew, the grips familiar under my hands. For a moment, I let the weight of it all settle—the blood, the fire, the faces still trapped under rubble. But then I shoved it down, same as always.
This wasn’t over. But it was the first step out.
Ash pulled up last, his old truck rattlin’ like it might fall apart before we hit pavement. His eyes met mine through the open window, steady, grim, but lit with somethin’ like relief.
I gave him a nod. He returned it.
Then we rolled out.
The van in the middle, steel and rubber wrapped around the women we’d pulled from the fire. Bikes flanking it, lights cut, tires spittin’ dirt until we hit the blacktop.
The storm broke overhead as we tore down the road, rain poundin’ hard enough to sting, thunder crashin’ loud enough to rattle the bones.
Didn’t matter.
We were out.