Inside

Inside


The tunnel roared with echoes, the gunshot still vibrating in my bones. Dirt and dust showered down, stinging my eyes. I could hear them behind us now, boots pounding, radios crackling, Kyle’s voice threading through the static like a ghost.

“Keep moving,” Cole growled, his hand shoving at my back.

My knees scraped against rough concrete as I crawled forward, the phone clutched in one hand, its glow the only light ahead. The encrypted files still flickered across the screen, unreadable lines of names and numbers that meant nothing yet, but I knew they meant everything.

Another shot cracked. The sound ricocheted through the narrow tunnel, deafening. I screamed and pressed flat against the floor as dirt exploded inches from my head.

Cole fired back, his muzzle flash lighting the dark for a heartbeat. The tunnel shook with the impact of his shot. “Move!” he shouted again.

I forced my body forward, crawling faster, every breath ragged and harsh. My chest scraped the ground, my palms tore against sharp stone, but the only thought burning in my mind was forward. Forward or die.

The tunnel narrowed, the ceiling dipping so low Cole had to crawl behind me on his elbows. The light behind us grew sharper, closer, beams cutting through the dust. Voices shouted, closer than before.

“Stop them!” someone barked.

Cole cursed under his breath. “They are gaining.”

I scrambled faster, panic clawing my throat. The tunnel sloped down suddenly, the floor slick with mud. I slid, hitting the ground hard and tumbling forward into open air. My body slammed against wet earth, knocking the wind from me.

I gasped, blinking against the sudden wash of moonlight. The tunnel had spat us out into a drainage ditch that cut along the edge of the rail yard. Water trickled in a shallow stream, carrying the stink of rust and rot.

Cole landed beside me, rolling to his feet in one smooth motion. He grabbed my arm, hauling me up. “Move, Tess. We cannot stay exposed.”

We stumbled through the ditch, the sound of pursuit spilling from the tunnel behind us. Flashlights swept the darkness, searching. Cole pulled me toward a culvert that curved away into the woods.

“They will corner us if we stay low,” I panted.

“Better than being shot in the open,” he snapped.

We ran, splashing through the shallow water, every step sending echoes bouncing through the culvert. Behind us, the men poured from the tunnel, their radios alive with static and Kyle’s calm, poisonous voice.

“You think you can keep running,” he said, his tone unhurried, almost bored. “But every road bends back to me. I own the exits. I own the shadows. And I own you, Tess.”

My throat closed. I wanted to scream back, to deny him, but the words stuck like glass.

Cole shoved me around a bend, his weapon raised. A beam of light swept across the culvert mouth behind us. Shots rang out, sparks flying off the concrete walls.

Cole fired in return, his voice sharp. “Keep going!”

I ran, water soaking my shoes, legs burning as the culvert finally opened into a thicket of brush. Branches whipped my face as we crashed into the trees. Cole grabbed me, dragging me down as a flashlight swept past just feet away.

We crouched in the dark, pressed against the earth, my breath ragged. The sound of dogs barked somewhere close, snapping, frantic.

Cole’s hand tightened on my arm. “We need distance. Now.”

We crawled through the undergrowth, the smell of wet leaves thick in my nose, every movement agonizingly slow. Behind us, the search spread wider, radios barking, boots crashing.

Kyle’s voice came again, threaded through static, closer than before.

“You can hide in ditches and crawl through mud, Tess, but you still hear me. That is the point. I am already inside you. Every step you take is because of me. Every breath you waste is mine.”

Tears blurred my vision. I bit my lip until I tasted blood, but the sound of him filled me anyway, heavy as a hand around my throat.

Cole moved like a shadow, pulling me deeper into the woods, every step deliberate. My legs ached, my lungs screamed, but I followed because stopping was not an option.

We moved until the sounds of pursuit thinned, fading behind us. The night grew still again, but not safe. Never safe.

Cole finally stopped, pressing me against the trunk of an old oak, his hand on my shoulder. His face was hard in the pale moonlight. “He is not here, Tess. Not yet. Just his voice. Do not let him break you with it.”

I nodded, though my body shook too hard to convince even myself.

The phone buzzed again in my hand. I looked down, heart hammering. The files were still there, still pouring in. But half of them blinked out suddenly, vanishing one by one until only fragments remained.

Cole’s eyes narrowed. “Cain. He intercepted.”

My stomach dropped. “How much is gone?”

“Enough,” Cole muttered. “Enough to make the trail incomplete.”

I gripped the phone tighter. “Then we still have something.”

He gave a sharp nod, scanning the trees. “And that means we keep moving. I know a place. A safer house than the last. But we cannot use the roads.”

The next hour was a blur of running, stumbling, dragging each other through shadows. Every sound made me flinch, every gust of wind carried his voice in my head.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Cole led me to a crumbling barn at the edge of a field. Its roof sagged, walls scarred with age, but when he pried open a hidden trapdoor beneath the hay, I saw stairs cut into stone.

“Inside,” he said.

I hesitated, heart racing. “And if they find us again?”

His eyes met mine, steady, unyielding. “Then we make them regret it.”

We descended into the dark. The air was cooler, thicker, the stone walls closing around us. Cole lit a lantern, the weak glow revealing a hidden bunker beneath the barn. A cot. A table. Supplies stacked in crates.

Safe. For now.

I sank onto the cot, trembling, clutching the phone. Cole set the lantern down and checked the locks. His shoulders were rigid, his movements sharp, every part o
f him braced for the next strike.

The silence pressed heavy, broken only by my breath.