61. Crew
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
CREW
I clutch onto Camilla like she’s the answer to every single one of my prayers, and in a lot of ways, she is. But we have no idea what awaits us on the other side of that door, and there’s every possibility we’re not both getting out of here alive.
She helps me to my feet, and I grasp her hand, forcing her gaze up to meet mine. “I need you to promise me something.”
Camilla nods slowly, waiting for me to continue.
“If I tell you to run, you run. If I tell you to hide, you hide. You’re already hurt, and if I see an opportunity to get you out, that’s what I’m going to do, but I need you to listen even if it means leaving me behind.”
She opens her mouth to argue, but then she nods. “Okay,” she relents. “If you tell me to run, that’s what I’ll do. But don’t expect me to leave you for dead because that’s not going to happen anymore than you would leave me.”
I sigh. “Fine.”
When I can finally stand on my own, I search the room for anything I can use as a weapon but my only options are a chair and the chains they used to restrain us.
Without any other options, I carefully feed the chain that held me through the pipe I was bound to and catch the other end before it can clatter to the ground. It’s heavy, but it will help in a bind.
I hand it to Camilla, and she grunts at the weight but doesn’t complain while I move to the chair, testing the weight of the hard metal. It’s about the same as the chains, but it’ll pack a punch if I hit someone with it.
I move toward the door and peek through the window at the top, allowing my shoulders to relax when there’s no guard on the other side. I guess there was no reason to have one when we were both restrained and powerless.
Testing the handle, I realize they also didn’t bother locking it after Charles left, and a chuckle escapes my throat. Idiots. If there’s one thing you should never do, it’s underestimate your opponent, especially when they’re as well trained as Camilla and me.
I tug the door open and step forward, looking both ways down a concrete hallway, but I still have no idea where they’re holding us, only that we’re in some kind of basement. Or at least I think we are based on the lack of natural light.
Picking a direction, I move ahead of Camilla, but she’s hot on my heels, her head swiveling to make sure no one can sneak up on us.
We reach a set of stairs, and I hear voices at the top, making me pause. If we go up there, we could be faced with more men than we can handle at once.
I consider our options for a second before my gaze locks on a room beside the steps. I stride toward it and push it open, finding a smaller cell than the one we were being kept in.
“I’m going to lure them down here, and we’ll hide in here until they come in. The tight space and the element of surprise should work in our favor.”
Camilla nods as she passes me. Her wound finally seems to be clotting, but I haven’t missed how ashen her skin is becoming or how cold she was when she was in my arms.
Once she’s hidden away, I drop the chair to the ground, causing it to bounce and make an almighty sound that echoes through the concrete hallway.
“What was that?” someone asks from above, and I quickly pick the chair up and move into the room with Camilla, resting my back against the wall on the opposite side of the door to her.
I take a deep breath and force my trembling legs to hold steady. Hanging from the ceiling with nothing but my toes touching the ground led to a lot of cramping, but I can’t let that fuck this up. Once we’re safe, I can deal with how my body has been impacted by this experience.
The door at the top of the stairs opens, and three sets of footsteps hit the metal steps as they descend toward us.
“That door was closed before, wasn’t it?” one of them asks.
“Was it?” another replies.
“I’m pretty sure.”
I meet Camilla’s eyes as she wraps the chains around both her hands, preparing herself for the fight that’s just moments away.
Their footsteps draw closer, and when the first guy enters, his eyes meet mine. “How the fuck did you get out?” He barely gets the sentence out before Camilla has the chain wrapped around his throat and tugs him out of the way so I can take on the other two.
His eyes widen as his throat closes over, but I don’t get to enjoy watching the life drain from his face because the next man enters with his gun raised.
I make quick work of slamming the chair down on his arm, reveling in the sound of his bone snapping and the scream that escapes his throat.
The third man shoots off a shot that misses me and gives me the opportunity to lift the chair again and slam it into his face, catching him off guard.
Camilla wrestles with the first man, her knee in his back as she tightens the chain and uses his body as a shield when the second man turns his attention to her.
“You’re dead, bitch,” he growls.
“No, I think you might be though.” Her eyes dance with mischief as she watches me lift the chair again despite my screaming shoulders and wrists and slam it into the back of his head.
He falls to the ground with a loud thud as the third guy groans, and I step toward him. Without hesitation, I drop into an excruciating crouch and cradle his head between my hands. I twist his neck, and when the crack ricochets off the concrete walls, I watch the life drain from his cold eyes.
The guy Camilla was taking care of drops to his knees as his face turns a shade of purple that’s far from natural, and when he finally slumps to the ground, Camilla lets up on the pressure of the chain.
We both collapse to the ground, our chests heaving and my body screaming at me. There’s a lot more where they came from, but at least we have real weapons now.
I reach for the guns the other two men were holding and check the chambers, finding them both full except the one bullet the third guy shot blindly, while Camilla reaches into the first guy’s waistband and does the same.
Our eyes lock, and I give her a quick nod.
We can do this.
We can get out.
I just need her to hold on a little longer.