The night was dark, but somehow the tunnels were even worse. Sophia bumped along behind Declan, holding his hand. Sometimes she closed her eyes and saw the same level of light. Exactly none. How did he find his way in such darkness? How could he see? The same figure guided her. Sophia could feel him more than his touch. She could know him this way, in the dark, scrambling away to safety. She could trust him.

Declan guided her down another shaft and then they were running deeper into the mountainside. Sophia had no idea where or why, but the vague idea that they were headed deeper and further beneath the surface gave her at least a momentary hope for survival. An animal instinct drove her deeper into the ground. She kept up with his pace and his logic. She believed in his will to survive and his way of doing it. She ran right by his side until he stopped.

Surprisingly, her eyes had become slightly adjusted to the darkness. And then she realized why. He held a small yellow glowstick in his hand, barely enough to change the shadows from black to gray. Where . . . how the hell had he gotten that?

“Where—”

“Grabbed it from the pocket of one of those cretins.” He shrugged.

While they were beating the shit out of him?

He stopped suddenly, and Sophia’s heart thudded in panic.

“What?” she said. “What is it?”

Declan stopped in his tracks, holding a piece of her shirt, and then tearing it.

She flinched back. “What the fuck?”

“We’re using this as evidence,” he said, “for them, something to follow up on.”

“What do you mean, follow up?”

“I mean when they come looking after us. We’ll throw them off track and lead them into a cave-in.”

“What cave-in? How?”

“Like this,” Declan said, kicking at a support beam. There were little frames built in the mine every few feet, and this one looked splintered enough to kick in and weaken. Get the piece of her shirt and lure someone down there.

“It’s a false trail,” he said. “You follow me yet?”

“I follow. But how about the rest of them?”

“Well, that’s the idea.”

“So they follow you. And then what?” She was breathing heavily in the darkened cavern. He looked at her as if he had something else on his mind entirely. Like he wanted to grab her, to breathe with her, one mouth, one kiss.

“Declan?”

His face scrunched up as if trying to decipher what she meant by the question. There could have been a lot of talking points. Perhaps the easiest was that they were working together.

“I’ve weakened this support, because I want a cave-in when they come looking for us.” He said this as if weakening supports had been an old day-job of his. Then he planted the fabric deep in between the rocks and said, “And I want it to look like you’ve been here.”

“I have been here.”

“Yeah,” he said. “How about that?”

“So now where?”

“The only way is through the darkness, so let’s keep going.”

Sophia grabbed ahold of him while they started walking again. Up close with him, again, almost hugging onto him, she felt a wave of relief. And she felt his leadership. He smelled good and he felt good, his muscles tense under her touch. His hands large and grasping her hips, guiding her. She wanted to believe everything he said. She wanted to be a team player. But underneath everything, fear still simmered away. She felt every step, every move renewing the pounding in her head, reminding her of her sore and aching muscles.

The fear was the worst. Causing her to doubt. To allow questions for which she had no answers to swim around her mind.

How would he feel about fear?

Of course, there would be fear. Declan was a soldier. She was merely an art girl. But what could she do? Just listen to him? Or find her own voice?

He said, “Ever hear of a FOB?”

“A what?”

“Alright,” he said, “the plan is to reach an American forward operations base. The nearest is in Kandahar.”

“Kandahar?”

“Are you wounded anywhere?” Declan asked. “And you really need to tell me.”

Sophia ignored the question. “How the hell can we make it all the way to Kandahar?”

“Are you?” he said.

“Am I what?”

“Wounded anywhere? I need to—”

“I’m fine,” she said.

But she didn’t feel fine. She hurt like hell, as she was sure he did as well. But if he could move, so could she, until she couldn’t put one foot in front of the other. Until she dropped from exhaustion. Because that’s what it would take. They didn’t have much time, much of a lead on their kidnappers, their captors, and she knew it. And if they caught up to them next time, she had little hope of getting away. Little hope of Sajad somehow helping her—or Declan—ever again.

Sophia felt dead to the rest of the world, at least the world she used to know. This new world here with Declan required a suspension of disbelief, that things could be this bad. She would not let herself imagine how much worse things could get.

He tugged on her hand. “Alright, time to keep moving. Ignore the pain, ignore the fear, and keep going.”

What, now he was a mind reader? How did he know what she was thinking? But of course, her thoughts were instinctive, questions that any sane person would ask in a situation like this.

She gave her head a shake, regretting it instantly as pain slammed through her. What had she been thinking? It was a question she’d asked herself at least a dozen times since she’d been kidnapped. A question she was likely to ask again and again. A question for which there was no answer. For now, it was only important to know one thing. She was with Declan. She had no doubt that he would do what he could do save her and himself. For his sake, she hoped he could. She couldn’t live with herself if she were to blame for his death.

Sophia could only see the mine shaft ahead and behind, but she couldn’t resist one more question. “Where the hell do we go now?”