The tunnel stank of rot and cold stone, and Xavier's blood clung to my hands like guilt. His weight sagged heavier with every step, each groan from his lips pressing deeper into my nerves. Caleb’s voice echoed behind me—urgent, clipped, fading. “Keep going. I’ll slow them down.”

I didn’t look back.

Xavier coughed beside me, a wet, rattling sound that made my stomach twist. “Don’t… cry,” he mumbled. His breath was hot on my neck. “Not for me.”

“You don’t get to tell me that,” I snapped, dragging him down another narrow bend. “You took a bullet for me, Xavier. You don’t get to die just to make a point.”...