John calmly walked in the direction they pointed them and she wanted to hit him. If he could bend a pistol, he could fight his way free.
"We'll be trapped," she hissed softly.
Please let him have a plan to get us out of this mess. She'd worry about getting away from him later.
Even before the thugs opened the door, she smelled it. The stale, musty scent of human sweat and urine. She gagged when they grasped the iron handle and that decaying smell intensified, assaulting her nose. Miserable groans ghosted up to their ears from the gaping blackness the door had revealed.
Julia clutched at John's hand. It was too large for her to hold comfortably, but she clung to what she could. His palm was rough, almost leathery. He helped her down the stone stairs, growling at any guard that came too
