Peanut lifts her head, her whole body going rigid, ears pivoting sharply. She senses something.
Slow, measured, confident footsteps echo our way. The door at the far end unlocks with a deliberate click that slides down my spine like ice.
Lattimer enters.
The shelter seems to bend around him, shrinking to make room for the weight of his presence. His suit is immaculate, his posture relaxed, as if he’s walking into a board meeting instead of a room full of terrified captives. His fingertips drag lightlyacross the chain-link as he passes cages, and every metallic tap rings like a countdown.
He stops when he reaches mine.
“Oh, Syvannah Blake,” he says, crouching. “You were always my favorite escape story.”
I refuse to lean back. I refuse to give him anything.
“You’re stronger than you look,” he continues. “You always were. But strength doesn’t matter when you’re leverage. And that’s what you are now. Leverage, not a person. Just pressure for someone else’s breaking point.”
Peanut growls, tiny but fierce.
Lattimer’s smile widens. “Yes. Him. Tiny. The gentle giant who collects broken things and calls them home.”
My breath stumbles. Lattimer sees it and pounces. “He didn’t save you the first time,” he says softly. “He didn’t even know you existed. And now? Now he has to choose. Brothers or you. The club or leverage.”
“That’s not who he is,” I whisper.
“Oh, but it is. When this place starts to collapse, and bullets start flying, he will save the people who built him. Not the girl who wandered into his arms too late.”
Peanut presses closer, as if shielding me.
Lattimer rises. “You escaped me once. Not again.” He leaves with a slow swing of the door, and the metallic echo settles like dust over every woman here.
A choked sob breaks the quiet. “I can’t do this again,” the youngest girl whispers, trembling violently.
I shift closer, voice steady even though fear digs its claws into my ribs. “You’re breathing. That means you’re still fighting. And we fight together.”
She tries to inhale. Fails. Tries again.
“Follow me,” I say softly, inhaling. “In… two… three… four. Hold” Exhale. “Out… two… three… four.”
More women join, their breaths gradually sync with mine until the jagged panic threading through the cages begins to ease. A fragile, steady rhythm settles over us.
The floor trembles beneath us. Slightly at first, making me think my heartbeat is misfiring.
At first, it’s subtle, then it deepens, rolling through the concrete in a slow, deliberate wave. Peanut’s ears snap forward, and her little body goes tense as the tremor gathers strength, shifting from a distant hum to something alive, something approaching.
The women feel it too. Their eyes widen as they lift their heads. The breath we fought so hard to control stutters as the vibration grows, steady and powerful, echoing through the metal cages like a heartbeat returning to a corpse.
Peanut rises higher in my lap, tail puffed, gaze locked on the doorway as if she’s waiting for the world to split open.
My heart slams into my throat.
The girl across from me gasps, “Is that?”
“Yes,” I whisper, tears stabbing the back of my eyes. “He’s here.”
And then the world erupts.
Gunfire cracks through the shelter like lightning, splitting open the ceiling. Sparks burst from overhead wiring. The women scream, dropping low as bullets chew into concrete and ricochet off metal bars. Smoke pours into the room, thick and acrid.
I throw myself over Peanut, instinct pulling me flat to the floor. A round snaps through the lock of my cage, metal shrieking as it shears apart. The door jerks inward, hanging crooked on one hinge.