I helped Tim up the stairs slowly, coaxing him upward one step at a time. His arms were wrapped around his waist, and he kept fidgeting at every sound, his eyes wide and scared. I kept a steady hand on his back, and whispered soothingly to him.

He hadn’t said a word since uttering my name back in the cell, but he looked at me like he understood what I was saying. Occasionally, he would reach out with a shaking hand and touch me, like he still didn’t believe I was real.

I hid my hurt from him. It wasn’t a pain he had caused and I didn’t want him thinking it was. I had claimed ownership over his abuse, guilt eating me up. I should’ve found a way to get to him sooner, to free him before he was even subjected to this place. Later, when we got out of here and found somewhere to sleep, I would cry my eyes out, but for now, I needed to be strong for him.

I told him about my adventure while we walked. I wanted to distract him from the levels leading up to the laboratory. I left out a lot of details, but I told him about Viggo, Samuel, Lee, and the egg. I probably talked about Viggo the most.

I was nervous about the two of them meeting. I had no idea how Tim would react to Viggo, or vice versa. They were both important to me, and I wanted it to go well.

I told Tim that. He looked over at me from out of the corner of his eye in such a way, that a laugh escaped me.

“I’m being ridiculous, aren’t I?”

There was a hint of movement from his shoulders, and I felt a slim ray of hope enter me. He had shrugged. He could understand me, and he was listening. Before I could stop myself, I wrapped my arms around him in a hug.

It was different, now that he was older. He had definitely grown up from the small eight-year old boy I had lost. He was taller than me, and he had lost the baby fat that had clung to him when he was younger. Still, it felt good having him in my arms.

I was very aware that he didn’t hug me back. It hurt, but it wasn’t his fault. I doubted that in the eight years he’d been imprisoned anyone had offered him a hug. I squeezed him tighter, as if afraid he’d disappear on me.

He twitched under my arms, and I reluctantly released him from my hold. It was his way of telling me he was done with the hugs—something I had learned on the climb up after I had kept hugging him. When it got to be too much for him, he found a way to tell me.

I reached out and took his hand in mine. “C’mon,” I said, guiding him up. “Let’s go meet Viggo.”

We were near the top landing leading to the laboratory and I relinquished his hand for a moment as I spun the hand wheel and opened the door. I propelled myself and Tim through it, but a sudden crashing noise made me freeze.

There were sounds of a fight coming from the area around Mr. Jenks’ office. My heart in my throat, I grabbed Tim’s hand and dragged him down to the floor, crawling on my hands and knees to take cover behind a counter.

Tim followed me, his expression tense. He looked at me quizzically, but I shook my head and put a finger to my lips. His gray eyes studied me while mine surveyed the area, my mind cycling through what I should do. It took three seconds for me to decide to hide Tim, and then go help Viggo.

I scanned the area, looking for a place for Tim to hide. To the right, across the aisle, there was a cabinet under a sink.

I crawled over to it, keeping low behind the counter. There were several similar counters filled with lab equipment blocking the view to us, but there were clear paths on either side where he and I could easily be exposed.

I peered around the edge of the counter, checking to see if anyone was down there. I didn’t see anyone.

There was a loud crash, and I heard Viggo’s grunt of pain. I winced in sympathy, an icy chill settled under my skin. I was moving too slowly.

Waving Tim over, I quietly opened the cabinet, positioning the door to hopefully shield us from being seen. Bottles of cleaners were inside, but I pulled them out quickly, and gestured for Tim to get in.

He shot me a panicked look, shaking his head. He started to back away, but I grabbed his head with both my hands.

“It’ll be okay,” I whispered. “I won’t leave you. I promise. But I can’t help Viggo and worry about you at the same time, okay?”

We stared at each other for a long moment. I tried to convey how sincere I was with my eyes and face, and eventually, Tim nodded.

It was an awkward fit for him, but we managed. I handed him my backpack, and he wrapped his arms around it and nodded at me. I could see the stress and anxiety in him, and I hated it, but I didn’t have time to comfort him.

From the sounds coming from up front, Viggo was putting up a good fight, but he was injured. He needed my help. I carefully closed the cabinet doors, sealing Tim in, and turned toward the commotion, making my way slowly toward the sounds of fighting.

As I approached the last few rows of counters, I pulled the gun from my pocket and clicked off the safety. I kept checking between each row, making sure that no one was hiding there. That was how I discovered Ms. Dale.

She was lying in the other aisle adjacent to the one I was on. One of the twins was on top of her, a hand on the back of her neck and a knee planted in the small of her back. She was struggling, trying to unseat the twin, but it was clearly not having any affect.

The twin was looking toward the sound of fighting and not in my direction. I used the opportunity to quietly move through the gap between counters.

Ms. Dale looked at me, but I didn’t stop long enough to see if she gave my position away. I just cleared the space and pressed my back to the end of the counter.

When no immediate cry went up alarming them to my presence, I peeked around the corner to see the commotion.

Viggo and the other twin had locked arms in a wrestling move. I watched Viggo straining against her, pushing her, but she didn’t move.

He was hurting. I could tell by how he was breathing—it was labored and intense. Sweat was pouring down him, and his arms and legs were shaking from the strain. His jaw was clenched and his teeth bared.

“Come on, Marina,” he coughed. “Give it up.”

She gave a cold laugh. “You can’t beat me, you idiot. Although I’m impressed by how you are holding up.”

He gave a shuddering gasp. “Yeah, what can I say? I’m not willing to roll over for a sadistic thing like you.”

I watched as he suddenly dropped his hip, and rotated, using Marina’s strength and redirecting it past him, rolling her over his back into the air.

She slammed into the glass wall of the office and slid down to the floor, shaking her head as if to clear a punch. Viggo stood over her, his fists clenched. He drew his hand back, about to strike, when there was a loud sound of a gunshot, echoing through the room.

My heart stopped for a moment. Viggo paused and looked down at his body. I couldn’t see what he was looking at, but I didn’t need to.

Blood was already staining the back of his shirt, pouring from the exit wound that the bullet had made. He gave a staggering step toward Selina, who came around the corner, one hand on the gun, the other on Ms. Dale’s hair, dragging her forward.

Then he crumpled, like a marionette tumbling to the floor after all the strings had been cut.

My brain refused to process what I was seeing, but my body was already acting. I was up on my feet, my finger squeezing the trigger before I could stop myself.

Everything moved in slow motion. Selina’s face had barely started changing to one of surprise as she saw me when the first bullet entered her neck. The second bullet entered just below her left eye, while the third perfectly between her eyebrows.

She fell to the floor, the gun skittering from her hand. I didn’t even look at her.

I was vaguely aware of Marina struggling to get to her feet, but I ignored her, my focus entirely on Viggo. I crossed the floor, sliding to my knees at his side as I did. I pulled him on to his back. His eyes were closed, his body pale.

I was hearing a high-pitched sound in my ears, and it took me a moment to realize it was me—I was screaming. I clamped my teeth together, cutting my scream off. I pressed my hands to the hole in his chest, trying to create a seal to keep his blood in. It kept pushing past my fingers, staining my skin.

Pushing down as hard as I could, I felt the slow burn of tears as they poured out of my eyes.

“Don’t die,” I begged him.

Aware of movement behind me, and I tilted my head.

Ms. Dale hobbled over to me, a purple bruise growing on the right side of her face and neck.

“Violet,” she said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “We have to go.”

I shrugged off her hand, looking down at Viggo. “I can’t leave him,” I cried. “I won’t.”

She grabbed my shoulder again, and shook me, but I just started screaming at her, cursing at her to leave me alone.

Kneeling down next to me, she grabbed my face with her hands, making me look at her. “Violet, think about your brother. You need to be strong for him now. Viggo would not want you to die down here.”

“He’s not dead,” I screamed in her face, jerking away from her hands.

She grabbed my shoulders and began to shake me. “Not yet, but he will be. We need to go.”

I just shook my head, a deep numbness setting in under my skin. I kept pressing my hands to his wounds, ignoring her.

“You aren’t going anywhere, you bitch,” came a snarl from the other side of the room.

I turned my head, and saw Marina on the floor, cradling the body of her sister to her. Her eyes were glittering with a mixture of rage and tears, and it was directed at me. I stared blankly at her as she gently set down her sister's body and made her way to her feet.

“I’m going to kill you,” she said as she stalked over to me, her fists clenched.