Without the moonlight, they fell into pitch blackness. Leila reached out until she felt the earthen wall, reassuring her she wasn’t floating through the cosmos. Finally, a light clicked on, flooding the space with its yellow glow.
Xander clicked another flashlight on and pressed it into Leila’s hand. He pulled out his handgun.
Leila widened her eyes.
“Just in case,” he said with an unamused twitch of his lips.
Drake had already started down the tunnel, so Leila shined her light forward and crept after her. Hopefully, this would be their last tunnel for a long time.
There wasn’t enough room for them to walk side by side, so they walked single file down the straight corridor, backs bent. A few minutes passed and Leila wasn’t sure how far they’d gone, but she already desperately missed breathing the fresh desert air.
Drake came to a sudden stop and threw her arms out. Leila paused behind her.
“What’s wrong?”
“Go back. Go back, go back!” Drake hissed.
Leila half-turned… then a deafening bang resonated in the narrow tunnel.
Drake collapsed into a heap, her eyes wide and empty. A red hole marked her forehead.
CHAPTER 20
Leila’s scream rattled in the tunnel. A hand roughly grabbed her arm and dragged her backward. Xander held his other arm outstretched, gun pointed. He fired once, twice while pushing Leila back the way they’d come. Her ears rang, drowning out the shouts. Shadows flickered against the walls.
“Run!” Xander yelled, his voice strangely distant. He shoved Leila into the darkness.
She ran.
Her side burned, her breaths were short, and her feet felt like lead as she stumbled along.
Drake is dead.
Leila’s knees suddenly stopped working and she staggered to the ground. Xander grabbed her under her arms and pulled her to her feet. With another push, he urged her forward. Her legs didn’t want to move but she forced them. One foot in front of the other. Xander gave her another push to go faster, his hands never leaving her shoulders.
Somehow, Leila kept going. The tunnel felt like it went on and on—until she slammed into the door. Xander pushed it open, and they burst into the soundless desert. The crisp night air cut down her throat.
After putting a few yards between her and the tunnel entrance, Leila sank to her knees, ignoring the sting of the sharp rocks digging into her legs.
Drake can’t be gone. We can’t leave her.
“Don’t stop,” Xander barked. He grabbed her upper arm and dragged her to her feet again.
“Xander,” Leila cried. “I can’t—”
“We have to get out of here.” His tone left no room for argument. With his fingers digging into her arm, he marched on, pulling her with him.
Tears streamed down her face as she stumbled beside him. His fingers stung like iron claws, but she barely felt the pain. They reached the cliff face where they had climbed down earlier and stopped. She had to do this on her own.
Somehow, she made it to the top.
She paused and stared straight ahead, the desert stretching before her. She couldn’t breathe. Her lungs refused to suck in any air, no matter how much she tried.
This can’t be real. I’m dreaming. This is a nightmare. I want to wake up.
Xander stopped beside her, his breaths heavy.
“Who… who were they?” Leila sobbed.
“Smugglers.” He spoke matter-of-factly. “They would have shot us all. Break’s over. We need to keep moving.” He wrapped his fingers around her arm again and tugged.
“What?” Leila croaked and she yanked her arm back. “We can’t. What about Drake?”
“We need to leave the area.”
“We can’t leave her.”
“There’s nothing we can do,” he snapped. “We just have to keep going. Find the hole in the fence. Get out of the country.” He held out a hand to help her to her feet.
She stared up at him. Keep going? How could she keep going? Drake was dead. Did he not realize that? His mouth was set in a firm line, his brow furrowed. Nothing about his face revealed what he could be thinking. He was still blocking her out.
“Leila, come on. We need to get out of here before we’re shot, too.”
Not waiting for her to respond, he grabbed her wrist and pulled. She stood and stumbled forward, coming to a stop against him. She gripped the front of his shirt tightly in her fists, still fighting back the sobs.
If only he’d stop being so stiff and angry. She didn’t need his secret agent personality right now; she needed the real Xander back. Her Xander.
Then she noticed something on his arm. A streak of red.
