Page 178 of Immune

I swallow hard. The noise canister continues to scream shrilly somewhere behind us, muffled only by the distance and concrete. The dead answer it, and Vector shouts overhead. The others keep watch, giving us their backs as much as they can in a space that’s much too narrow to offer a whole lot of privacy.

Xeon’s gaze lowers again, giving me the mercy of not being stared at after saying something a little too accurate. There’s no pity, though. No soft little face full of “oh, poor Dakota.” Just a fact, placed on the ground between us gently enough that I can skip over it if I so desire.

I reach through the gap and pain laces down my torn arm when the concrete scrapes the bandage. My fingers brush metal, but it’s not enough. I stretch farther. Still not close enough.

Frustration burns behind my eyes, my body growing taut with irritation.

“Move your elbow a little lower,” Xeon instructs. “Then twist your wrist.”

“I know what I’m doing,” I strain.

“I know.”

There it is again. No argument, not taking over. Just opening the door a little wider and waiting to see if I choose it.

I lower my elbow and twist my wrist. My fingers hook the release bar then, because of course they do.

Annoying man.

I yank, but nothing happens. I grit my teeth and pull harder, ignoring the pain in my arm. The mechanism groans, but it continues to hold, just as stubborn as Kaito.

“Again,” Fletcher says from behind me.

My shoulders tense, but Xeon speaks before I can snap at the scarred Alpha. “Breathe first.”

His voice remains soft. For me. It’s not a command, it’s an offering, and I hate that my body listens.

I inhale through my nose slowly, ignoring the stink and the blockers. I breathe in despite the fact that breathing feels like I’m inviting the world in. But then I pull and, what do you know, the fucking bar releases.

The grate lifts three inches. Then six. Then enough for Ewan to get his shoulder under it and shove. Fletcher joins him despite the wound on his shoulder. Kaito also helps, even though he absolutely should not be helping right now, and I only decide not to yell because there is currently a grate between us and not dying.

Small mercies and all that.

We spill out under the far side of the garages into an old maintenance courtyard tucked behind a row of stores. High walls surround it, topped with rusted fencing and old warning signs. Above us, a fire escape crawls up the side of the building toward a flat roof that overlooks the compound barricades.

The direct road is still cut off, but the roofline might actually work.

Fletcher scans the courtyard. “Up.”

I look at the fire escape. Of course. More climbing. Yay me. My knee officially sends a strongly worded complaint to management, and I can’t even ignore it this time. It’s a very creative complaint, filled with curse words and very direct and disrespectful things aimed at management’s mother. And honestly? Valid. My knee is lucky I don’t take it personally.

“That’s just great,” I mutter. “If anyone sees an elevator, I intend to marry it, so paws off.”

Ewan snorts. “Hell yeah. I’ll even officiate the wedding.”

Kaito looks like he’s about to say something about going first, but he doesn’t. Instead, Xeon steps toward the ladder, tests the lowest rung, then looks back. “It’ll hold.”

That’s all. Not hurry. Not I will help you. Pure information and nothing more.

I climb.

The fire escape rattles under our weight, but it holds. The higher we get, the more the city seems to open up under us. Ruined streets. Broken towers. Smoke crawling from the apartment block. Zeds flooding the wrong route because Vector rang the dinner bell and simply waited for the world to answer.

The compound sits beyond the next row of roofs, close enough that I can actually see the outer barricade.

Close enough to touch.

Close enough that it still isn’t even safe.