“Damn it.” The leader of this group, the one who took Alexis, stalks over to the machine, then lifts a hand to his ear. “No, sir, there’s been some kind of—Yes, I understand. She’s not going anywhere.” He drops his hand, then glares at the others in the room. “Get a team of techs in here, now. We’ve got a week, and if this hasn’t been fixed by then, I’m not going to be the one Monsieur LaRoux blames, you hear me?”

I’m still frozen, heart stuttering. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I don’t even know who, or what, I’m thanking for the reprieve. Reminding myself to breathe, I run my fingers along the vent opening beneath me until I’m sure I know where the pressure points are. Then I study the screen, check my on-the-fly hack one more time, and breathe a silent prayer to the only person I know who might care to watch over me. Let’s not meet again today, bro. I’m not ready just yet.

I tap the screen to execute the program, and the lights all over the building ripple out, plunging the holosuite into darkness.

For a moment, no one moves. Then I punch down against the grille sealing the air vent. It clatters to the floor, and Alexis turns in the direction of the sound, leaping to her feet with incredible reflexes. A muzzle flash from one of the gorillas’ guns illuminates the room for an instant, and, like a perfectly still picture, I see their leader lunging for her, hands outstretched. No, no.

He catches her shirt and they both go toppling to the floor, grappling in the dark, washed green from my vantage point in the ceiling. Her shriek cuts off when she hits the ground, the impact winding her, and her wild kick glances harmlessly off his arm. He flips her onto her back to prevent her scrambling away, his own breath ragged, and her foot flies out again—this time it connects with his crotch and he moans, backhanding her blindly as he folds in on himself, half pinning her to the ground.

I yank my climbing rope out of my pack and clip it through my harness, throwing the looped end down into the room. I brace my feet on either side of the air vent’s opening as she struggles to wriggle free of her captor, movements jerky and desperate, washed in green by my night-eye goggles. “Here!” I hiss, knowing that in the dark, she’s completely blind. She kicks at the man’s grasping hand as he tries to grab her ankle, and scrambles to her feet. Three quick steps bring her across the room to collide with the rope—it takes her a few seconds to feel for its end, then slip her foot through. She’s a small girl and this should be easy, but I’ve got no leverage, and only the belay device on my harness to help me haul the rope back. It’s not until I feel the rope slacken a little that I see one of her hands grasping at the edge of the vent, and I can lean forward enough to reach for her.

Our palms smack together, and I wrap my hands around hers in an iron grip, ignoring the pain in my shoulders as I shove myself back from the vent opening, pulling her after me. She scrabbles wildly for purchase with her feet as I ram myself backward, letting her go the second she’s on her hands and knees. I want to ask if she’s all right, but can’t find the breath to do so.

“Go,” she gasps, staring at where she knows I must be in the dark, eyes wide and lungs heaving for air. I shove my lapscreen into my bag and push backward. She’s smaller than me, and she can crawl, but I’m stuck backing up on elbows and knees, forced to choose speed over silence as I scramble my way toward the intersection behind me. The laser of a gunshot punches through the vent behind her and she drops to the metal floor with perfect reflexes—experienced reflexes—eyes closing for an instant. Just past her body I can see a ray of light shining up through it. Someone’s got the light on their gun’s scope working.

We hit the junction, and I turn so I can face forward, lowering my back now so it doesn’t connect with the roof. This is our best and only chance, and it’s not much of one at that—the vents snake all over the building, and if we can force ourselves to stay slow and silent, they won’t know which direction we’ve picked. Now is the time for stealth over speed.

Alexis has no problem behind me—she’s small and light, and can keep her hands and knees along the edge of the tunnel, where the metal’s less likely to buckle with a telltale sound. Though she can’t see, the occasional hand on my ankle tracks where I am, and she follows. I’m too big for what we’re trying to do, and though my hindbrain is screaming at me to run, run, I make myself check every inch of the tunnel before I shift my weight. My headset throws up a projected image of the tunnel schematics in front of me, and with agonizing slowness, we retrace the path I took to get to her.

Now that they know we’re here, the elevator shafts will be on automatic lockdown in the lobby, even the service elevator. We can’t get out that way. I’m trying to remember the layout of the buildings around us, especially the new one they’re constructing next door. Every now and then I hear a burst of comms static from somewhere below us, and I know we’re not going to be able to wait it out in here. They’re splitting up to find us. I’m going to need to make a new exit.

I want to ask if Alexis is okay, but if I can hear the occasional noise from the searchers, I can’t risk even a whisper. Every joint hurts, my muscles and tendons on fire from being forced into such an unnaturally cramped position, and I can feel the sweat trickling down my sides.

It’s nearly an hour before we reach the elevator shaft, and it’s only once I creep out onto the maintenance ledge that I finally take a normal breath. There’s a limited amount of light out here, cast by maintenance lamps every other floor. I turn back for Alexis, only to find her gripping the edge of the ventilation tunnel with white knuckles and closed eyes.

“Hey,” I whisper, reaching out to lay my hand over hers. “It’s okay, we’re still ahead of them. But we’ve got to keep moving if we want to stay that way.”

She gives a tight little shake of her head. “I can’t.” Her voice is clipped and tight. “I—I’m not good with heights.”

I stare at her. “You live in a penthouse.”

She glares back at me. “Yeah, with windows you couldn’t crack even if you threw a grand piano at them!” Her voice sharpens with irritation, and though there’s no reason to be pleased about it—it’s directed straight at me, and we’re standing here instead of climbing—I discover I kind of like it. This, like the one-dimpled, lopsided smile, is real. And most of the time I can’t tell what is, with this girl. “A penthouse view is different from—I can’t climb down there, Gideon!”

Well, screw me sideways. This is going to make my exit strategy a lot harder to pull off. I let my breath out. “You’re in luck, because we’re not climbing down. We’re climbing up.”

That has her opening her eyes, if only to shoot me a horrified look. “How is that any better?” she gasps.

“Trust me, up is a lot easier than down. We’ve only got to get ten floors up, and there’s a skybridge to one of the other buildings.” I rummage in my bag until I find my spare micro-weave harness inside. “Come on out, the ledge is wide enough to stand on.”

“Oh God,” she whispers, her movements jerky and slow as she starts easing first one leg, then the other out of the duct. She keeps her eyes closed, moving by touch—I make sure to be gentle as I reach out for her arm to steady her.