Scarlett’s POV
The vent opened into a crawlspace, tight, pitch black, and heavy with dust. I barely had room to turn my head, and every inch I moved sent a puff of stale air and rusted flakes into my mouth and eyes. I coughed but muffled it with my arm. If they heard me, it was over.
I paused and tried to listen. Footsteps above. Slow. Calculated. They knew I was in the walls.
David’s men weren’t rushing. They were enjoying this. Like it was a game.
I shuffled forward, scraping my elbows on jagged metal. My breath caught every few seconds as I tried to hold it, praying the creaks of the metal wouldn’t give me away. The corridor slanted downward slightly, and as I slid, I tried to remember every step I’d taken. How long had I been crawling? One minute? Five?
The crawlspace forked ahead
