Amy's POV

I have scrunched myself into the ventilation shaft, barely breathing because the air inside carried rust and old grease. As I moved, my knees were being scraped until I felt like one layer of skin was being taken off, but it was my adrenaline that pushed me through. And then, finally, after moving through the shaft for some time, I looked down through the slates of the grate and, between them, I saw him.

Carlos.

He wasn't as bloodied and bruised as I remembered him to be the last time I saw him here in the basement. He looked better—still a mess, but better. There he was in...