Ava's POV
The darkness in the service duct was absolute. It was a thick, dusty blackness that pressed against Ava's eyes. Her hands, slippery with sweat, gripped the cold metal rungs of the ladder. Each downward step sent a bolt of lightning from her ribs down to her toes. She could hear Leo above her, his movements silent and sure, a shadow blotting out the faint light from the apartment for a moment before it was gone completely.
"Just keep going down," his voice floated to her, a calm anchor in the dark. "Twenty more rungs."
She counted in her head, her breath coming in ragged, painful puffs. Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen… Her foot met not another rung, but solid concrete. She'd reached the bottom.
A moment later, Leo landed softly beside her. A small, powerful flashlight clicked on in his hand, its beam cutting a narrow path through the dusty air. They were in a cramped concrete corridor, pipes running along the low ceiling. It smelled of damp concrete and old machinery.
