POV: Jane
The emergency lights bathe Ryan’s face in a bloody, pulsing crimson. His chest heaves against mine, his heart hammering a frantic, feral rhythm against my own.
"Ryan," I gasp, my hands still tangled in the rough leather of his jacket.
He blinks, the dark haze in his pale eyes snapping into sharp, lethal focus. He pushes off the sink, putting a fraction of distance between us, but his heavy grip on my waist doesn't loosen.
"We move. Now," he says, his voice a low, gravelly command.
"The train…"
"Is dead. And the scouts outside aren't going to wait for the conductor." He reaches up, yanking the red emergency release handle above the door. The heavy metal doors groan, parting just enough for us to slip through.
Cold, stale tunnel air rushes in, smelling of sterile and ol
