Chapter 27 The Other Side

Chapter 27 The Other Side
 Zane POV

“Eat everything and do not leave the tray,” the voice said through the slot, low and fast, the words stacked on top of each other like he was afraid they might fall apart if he slowed down, “and listen, my name is Marcus, Sub Level Three, Junction C, midnight.”

I leaned toward the door and whispered, “Marcus,” just to anchor it somewhere real, but the slot was already closing and the corridor noise swallowed him before I could say anything else.

I sat on the floor with the tray balanced on my knees and forced myself to eat slowly even though my stomach rolled against the drugs and my hands felt heavy, and I kept thinking about the fact that a guard barely old enough to have lines on his face had just handed me a future with shaking fingers and walked away like it was nothing.

“You picked a bad side,” I muttered to the empty cell, and then I scraped the last of the food into my mouth and set the tray back because obedience was camouflage and tonight I needed every layer of it.

When the lights dimmed into late cycle and the hall settled into that artificial quiet the facility loved to pretend was peace, I moved to the panel and pressed my fingers against the seam and whispered, “Not yet,” while I waited for the camera rhythm to line up in my head.

Opening the panel took longer than it had before and I clenched my teeth and breathed through the way my muscles resisted me like they were underwater, and I said quietly, “I know,” to my wolf when it pushed against the fog because the sedatives were smarter now and heavier and built to sink their teeth in deep.

The shaft air hit my face and I closed my eyes for a second and said, “Still breathing,” because it mattered, and then I pulled myself through and sealed the panel behind me and started moving.

By the second junction my head spun hard enough that I had to brace my back against the wall and stand there swallowing nausea and whispering, “Do not you dare,” while my vision steadied, and I stayed still until the wave passed because falling in a shaft like this would not be dramatic, it would just be over.

When I reached Junction C I whispered, “I am here,” before I even saw him, and then Marcus stepped into view behind the grate and said, “You look worse than last time,” and I answered, “They are improving the recipe,” because if I did not keep my voice steady everything else would crack.

He slid the folded paper through the grate without ceremony and said, “You have maybe a minute,” and I unfolded it and started memorizing, and my mouth moved as I read because sound helped lock it in.

“This is medical residential,” I said softly, and he nodded, and I said, “This room is hers,” and he said, “Yes,” and I said, “Guard rotation every six hours but sloppy at shift change,” and he said, “Especially third watch,” and I said, “Camera blind spot forty seconds,” and he said, “Every quarter hour,” and I said, “Forty seconds is tight,” and he said, “It is enough if you commit.”

I folded the paper back along the same creases and passed it to him and he lit it immediately and the paper curled in on itself and I said, “That smell will carry,” and he said, “Not long enough to matter.”

He leaned closer to the grate and spoke faster, like he was afraid courage might wear off.

“Dr. Voss has been documenting Owen for years,” he said, “protocol changes, outcomes, things that do not match the reports.”

I nodded and said, “She would not stay otherwise.”

“She has copies outside the facility,” he said, “Insurance.”

“Good,” I said, “He hates loose ends.”

Marcus swallowed and said, “Two other staff know what I have been doing,” and I asked, “Did they report,” and he shook his head and said, “They looked away,” and I said, “That is more than I expected.”

He hesitated and then said, “The harvesting suite is cleared,” and I felt something cold settle in my chest, and I said, “When,” and he said, “Four days,” and I nodded because anger would only slow me down.

He asked, “What do you need,” and I answered without pausing.

“I need a disruption I can trigger from inside the shaft that will pull security away from her level long enough to move her,” I said, “I need a way for her to open her door from the inside even once,” and then I added, “And I need to know what is above Sub Level Six because the shaft keeps going and I need to know where it ends.”

Marcus exhaled slowly and said, “I can give you the first,” and then, “I might be able to give you the second,” and then, “The third one will take time.”

“How much time,” I asked.

“More than tonight,” he said.

“Then you have forty eight hours,” I told him, “After that I move with or without answers.”

He nodded and said, “You need to go back and stay quiet,” and I said, “That is what I do best,” and he said, “No more heroics,” and I said, “I do not do those,” and then quieter, “I just survive.”

On the way back through the shaft the pull hit me so suddenly it stopped me in place and I pressed my palm to the metal wall and whispered, “You are still here,” because the bond drew upward like a living thing and told me she was awake and afraid and thinking, and I stayed there for a full thirty seconds just feeling the confirmation of her presence in the building above me.

“I am coming,” I whispered into the dark, knowing she could not hear it because Owen had cut our connection channel but needed to say it anyway.

Back in my cell I sealed the panel and lowered myself to the floor and stared at the ceiling and counted my breaths until the drugs settled again, and I thought about four days and about eight years and about how this time survival had a name and a face.

I closed my eyes and said softly to the empty room, “Hold on,” and somewhere above me, unseen and unreachable for now, I hoped she was listening.

“Hold on,” I said again.