Page 126 of Yours to Keep
A door opens.
Then we’re forced downstairs.
Someone shoves me without warning. I miss the final steps completely and crash onto concrete. The impact drives every breath from my lungs, and a heartbeat later, Finn lands half across me with a groan.
For several long seconds, neither of us moves. We simply lie there, trying to breathe, while warm blood trickles beneath the restraints cutting into my wrists.
Then a heavy door slams shut above us.
And I know we’re alone.
* * *
We are swallowed by complete, suffocating darkness.
The smell hits me first. Dust. Old oil. Damp concrete. Dirt. The air is thick with neglect, the kind of smell that settles into places nobody visits anymore. Places nobody comes looking for. Every breath coats the back of my throat until I can almost taste it.
Beside me, Finn’s breathing rasps through the darkness. It’s too fast. Too shallow.
“Finn,” I whisper, my voice barely working. “Slow down.”
He doesn’t answer.
“You’re hyperventilating.”
I shift closer, hooking my leg around his. It’s the only comfort I can offer with my hands still tied behind my back.
“Breathe with me. In, and out. That’s it. Again. In, and out.”
Slowly, painfully slowly, his breathing begins to match mine.
“Eli…” His voice sounds distant. Wrong. “I can’t… my head… pressure…”
Fear punches straight through me. The gun. The stairs. Maybe both.
“Finn, you need to stay awake.” I nudge him gently with my knee. “Keep talking to me.”
“Okay.”
The word is quiet, heavy with exhaustion.
Too heavy.
“Finn?”
Nothing.
My pulse spikes.
I shift until my shoulder presses against him, straining for any sign he’s still with me. Finally, warm breath brushes my arm.
Weak.
Shallow.
But there.
Relief almost brings tears to my eyes. My chest loosens just enough to suck in air. If he’s still here, I can hold on a little longer.
