Chapter 19
Nox
We left before the village could wake up.
That was always the rule; move while the world was still rubbing sleep from its eyes.
Tamsin set the pace, pack on her shoulders, knife at her thigh, gaze fixed a mile ahead.
Elias walked just behind her. Griff ranged wide, keeping watch on the hedgerows and tree lines.
Bishop kept up the pace, but I knew his mind was whirling a mile a minute.
Eamon moved last, making sure no one lagged, eyes always flicking back to check behind us.
And me? I took point.
The land sloped down into a cut where old rail lines once ran, the earth giving way to stone and rusted iron. There was an old train tunnel waiting for us down at the bottom of the hill.
“It’s going to be dark inside,” I warned. “Eyes adjust faster than you think though. If it gets too dark, we have some flashlights.”
Tamsin nodded and raised a hand. The group stilled, then moved again, quietly. We slipped inside.
Our footsteps crunched on gravel and grit. Somewhere deep ahead, water dripped in a steady rhythm, like a clock that had never been wound down.
I knew this place.
London had veins like this everywhere, forgotten rail lines and maintenance tunnels that used to function two centuries ago and I’d been through this exact one not long ago.
We moved single file at first, then staggered out when the tunnel widened.
We’d been walking maybe fifteen minutes when I saw a recessed niche that should have been full of supplies, but it was empty. There were no crates, no water tins, and no wrapped rations.
I raised a fist.
Everyone behind me froze.
“There should have been supplies here,” I said. “I left some the last time I went through here.”
Tamsin didn’t look rattled. She looked… thoughtful. “What does that tell us?”
“That someone knows this route,” I said. “Or stumbled into it and got lucky.”
Bishop tilted his head, listening. “I don’t hear anyone.”
“That doesn’t mean they’re gone, though,” I replied.
I scanned the ceiling, the side alcoves, the long dark path ahead. My pulse stayed even. This wasn’t fear. This was caution. This was angles and exits, sound and shadow. It felt familiar in a way that made my shoulders loosen.
“There’s an alternate route not far off,” I said.
Elias met Tamsin’s eyes. She nodded. “Show us.”
We moved again. There was a spur that opened like a slit in the wall, barely wide enough to shoulder through.
Icy cold water ran ankle-deep. The ceiling dipped low, but it was cracked in places enough to let a shred or two of light in.
I counted steps automatically, tracking where we could double back if we had to.
“Stop,” Tamsin said softly.
I halted. She moved up beside me, eyes on the junction ahead where the spur split again. The right branch sloped upward, the left dipped deeper.
“Left’s safer,” I said. “But slower.”
She considered that, then nodded. “You and I take a look.”
Elias started to object, then stopped himself. He watched us for a beat, then said, “Five minutes.”
“Ten,” I replied.
He smiled thinly. “Five.”
Tamsin and I slipped down the left branch together. The tunnel narrowed, and the water grew colder. Our breathing synced without us trying. That happened a lot with her.
She glanced at me. “Did you ever think you’d be back here for this?”
I snorted. “No. I thought I’d die in a ditch somewhere and that’d be that.”
She didn’t laugh. She just said, “I’m glad you didn’t.”
The words hit deep.
We reached a bend where the wall had collapsed inward, leaving a crawlspace above the waterline. I tested it with my shoulder. Solid enough.
“Clear,” I said. “This’ll spit us out past the bad stretch.”
“Good. Let’s head back to the others and let them know,” she said with a nod.
When we returned, Elias’s eyes flickered with relief.
Together, we funneled through the crawlspace and came out into a wider tunnel beyond the compromised area.
For a while, it was quiet. Before long, I could see the light at the end of the tunnel, marking the exit.
Then there was a clatter ahead. A hissed whisper. Boots splashing in a puddle somewhere.
“Get down,” I whispered.
We dropped behind a low wall as four shapes rushed into the light. They weren’t feral wolves. They weren’t soldiers either. Just human scavengers with mismatched gear and hunger in their eyes.
One raised a rifle.
I moved.
Quickly.
I closed the distance while Griff drew their attention and Elias flanked us and took down one himself with a quick blow to the head.
Bishop disarmed one cleanly and swiftly.
Tamsin moved fast, knocking the rifle aside and putting her knife against the third’s throat. I smiled. I’d taught her that move.
“Don’t,” she said.
The man froze.
The last one ran.
I let him go. Noise would only bring more.
We bound the three left behind, took their ammo and gun, and sent them the other way with a warning they’d remember.
Once they were gone and the tunnel went quiet again, we didn’t linger.
Eamon was already moving, crouching in front of Tamsin before anyone said a word. He checked her hands, her arms, as well as the line of her jaw where she’d taken a hit during the fight.
“Any pain?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “I’m good.”
He nodded, satisfied, then glanced at me. “You?”
“Fine,” I said. “Annoyed, but that’s my baseline.”
Tamsin wiped her knife on a cloth and slid it back into its sheath.
“We should move before anyone else gets curious,” Eamon murmured.
“Agreed,” I said.
Tamsin fell in beside me as we started forward again, boots splashing softly through shallow water. After a few steps, she leaned closer and said under her breath, “Thank you.”
“For what?” I asked.
“For knowing this place,” she said. “And for not trying to be the hero.”
I glanced at her. “I save that for people who need the credit.”
She grinned.
The others spread out naturally. Elias moved to the center. Bishop to the right. Griff took the left. Eamon kept to the rear.
And as we walked out of the tunnel, it struck me how strange that felt. How easy. Like we’d been doing this together for longer than we actually had.
Like the six of us together were a pack.