My heart was still racing—epinephrine, I knew. Give it two more minutes and I'd be sharper.
I fell in behind Ashur. The crackle of ground glass under our boots tore at the hush. The corridor looked wider and longer than it should have.
Before we hit the security shield and lasers, Ashur hauled the doctor's head up to the scanner and pried his eyelids open with his fingers. The reader chimed—approved. He pressed Patrick's white admin card into my hand. The hallway shield powered down and the indicator flipped green.
We headed for the lift. With the doctor slung over his shoulder, Ashur stood ramrod straight—no sag, no sign of strain—eyes locked on the doors. I couldn't help staring at the man hanging over his shoulder—the perfect shield. He could've butchered them fast with that—but even in this mess he was thinking ahead. He'd done most of the killing barehanded to save ammo for whatever came next.
I swept my unsteady gaze around. They were probably posted on every floor. The fact they hadn't flooded this level yet told me they knew this was our ground, not theirs. The elevator was the only way up—and they could be waiting on any landing.
"Wh… why didn't you try to escape all these years?" I asked.
He stopped at the elevator. "Because no one g… gave me the order to."
I braced a hand on the wall, met his eyes with a crooked smile. "So if I hadn't given you the wake code, you'd have stayed locked up forever?"
Still gripping the doctor's collar, eyes on the floor display, he answered, flat: "Yes."
We stepped into the lift. The air was either freezing—or I was near collapse. I shook so hard my bones felt hollow. I didn't know his exact plan. Was he walking us to our deaths? Maybe he meant to use the doctor as a shield.
He bent, yanked the doctor's belt free, then knelt and dragged me closer by my thigh. He cinched the belt tight around my leg. Pain flared; I grabbed the rail and, without thinking, planted a hand on his shoulder.
"Your bandage isn't enough," he said. "This will s… slow the bleed."
I let out a ragged laugh, watching him shrug my hand off and straighten. "So now you're helping me?"
He jabbed the floor button; the car lurched upward. He caught the doctor's collar again, then locked those empty black eyes on mine. "Whoever speaks the wake c… code stays under my protection until the next code is issued."
The car was small; I stood close enough to feel his chest rise. His voice came low, expressionless. "For now you're a green light. So…l…I keep you alive."
He gave a thin, cold smile, leaned in, breath hot at my ear. "If your green light goes dark, you can die e…easy. If it turns red… I…l kill you myself."
I flinched and stared at him. He drew back, dragged the doctor between us, and faced the doors. He pressed the gun to the doctor's temple. My heart beat in my throat as the elevator chimed, soft as a lullaby.
The doors slid open—
I stared, stunned. More than ten agents, crouched and aiming straight at us. Then they saw the doctor in Ashur's grip and froze.
"Don't move!" someone barked.
Over Ashur's shoulder, I stared the guards down. Sweat and blood ran from my temple. My breaths were short and sharp; my feet felt glued to the car floor.
"So what now, genius?" I rasped at Ashur.
A Red Ward sergeant in a black visor shouted through it, "No one fires!"
Keeping his head tucked behind the doctor's, Ashur reached out with the gun's muzzle and tapped the elevator button again. I drew a deep breath and watched the guards—statues, all of them. I could smell their fear. The tang of doubt. The raw edge of worry.