Chapter 666
The right wall of the tunnel was not solid metal. It was constructed of thick, one-way ballistic glass, designed to allow maintenance workers to observe the sterile medical corridors running parallel to the shaft.
Eliza was breathing hard. The physical exertion was catching up with her. Her legs felt heavy, and the cold from the liquid cooling suit still lingered in her bones.
She made the mistake of turning her head.
Through the thick glass, she saw the brightly lit corridor on the other side.
Gideon was walking in the parallel hallway, keeping exact pace with them.
His white shirt was a horrific canvas of dark red blood. His face was pale, his cheekbones sharp and hollow.
When Eliza looked at him, Gideon slowly turned his head.
His deep blue eyes locked onto hers through the glass. The physical barrier between them meant nothing. His gaze pierced straight through her.
He didn’t speed up. He didn’t look angry.
Instead, he raised his right hand and extended his index finger and thumb, forming the shape of a gun. He pointed it directly at her heart.
He dropped his thumb — the hammer falling.
Then he smiled. The exact same sick, euphoric smile he had worn years ago when he had cornered her in the dark.
In that single, terrifying second, the dam in Eliza’s mind shattered.
The years of psychological torture under Anson Hyde, the relentless fear of Gideon’s obsession, the constant running — it all crashed down on her at once. A massive, violent panic attack ripped through her nervous system.
Her pupils dilated until her eyes were almost entirely black. The air in the tunnel suddenly felt thicker than water. She tried to inhale, but her throat clamped shut.
A high-pitched ringing exploded in her ears, drowning out the footsteps and the alarms.
Her legs gave out.
She collapsed, her knees striking the metal grating hard.
“Eliza!” Dallas dropped to one knee instantly.
He grabbed her shoulders. Her body was trembling so violently it felt like a seizure. Her hands clawed at her own throat, desperate for air that wouldn’t come. Her face was turning a terrifying shade of ash-gray.
“Breathe,” Dallas ordered, his voice tight with panic. “Look at me. Look at my eyes. Arthur is waiting for us, Eliza. You can’t stop now.”
But Eliza couldn’t see him. She was trapped in a flashback. She was back in the cage. She was helpless.
Cipher stopped and spun around. The operative took one look at Eliza’s heaving chest and understood immediately.
“Severe panic cascade,” Cipher said, raising her submachine gun to cover the rear. “Her nervous system is overloading. She can’t walk.”
Dr. Rhys stopped and looked back. “Leave her!” he shrieked, his voice cracking. “The exit gate is going to lock down! We have to go!”
Dallas ignored the doctor. He ignored the approaching footsteps.
He set his gun on the floor. He wrapped both arms around Eliza and pulled her trembling body flush against his chest. He buried his face in the crook of her neck.
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.
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