ENTRAPPED ₂

71

ETHAN WALKED FOR WHAT FELT LIKE A LONG TIME.

The path was similar to the one he and Annabeth had been traveling on, but narrower. The walls nearly brushed his shoulders, and the ceiling was low. It was all the same gray, unforgiving stone. He hated it.

His way was lit only by the flashlight gripped in his sweaty hand, and he couldn't help but turning back every few paces, just to make sure nothing had followed him. He paused occasionally, thinking he had heard Annabeth screaming. He was sure he was imagining it. He was too far by now to hear anything of her.

It terrified him anyway.

Eventually, he stopped completely, listening. The tunnel was completely silent except for his own sounds of humanity―painful breathing, the thump of blood in his eardrums. His arm throbbed more with every step. Not having Annabeth to talk to was torturous.

Ethan hadn't been this alone in years. For the first time since going to Camp Half-Blood, he was completely by himself. Sure, he had bounced around over the years―but after Madeleine, he had always known he had a place to return to. She would always take him. He had abused that a little bit, but he couldn't help but go back to her. When he was at his worst, she was the only person he wanted to see. When he was at his best, it was with her.

He was whipped for that girl. Not being able to be with her now, having no idea where she was or if she was okay―that gutted him.

It was more than just her, though. As Ethan grew up, the list of people he loved had expanded. He had gone from a lonely, grieving, angry boy to someone worth something. He had gotten close with so many others―Annabeth, Percy, Lee, Drew, Rachel, Nico. And more recently, Jason, Piper, and Leo. Where would Ethan be without them?

They weren't here now, but Ethan could do this. He could get through this. He could finish this quest. He would see Nico's face again, smoke pot with Lee, laugh at people with Drew. He would let Rachel paint on him, see Jason smile at Leo, let Piper pick out one of his outfits. He would introduce Annabeth to a book that Madeleine had showed him, or swordfight with Percy.

He would kiss Madeleine again. He would get to hold her face, put his fingers against her throat and feel the pulse there. He would touch her, spar with her, see her laugh. He would see her hair in the sun, her features illuminated like an angel.

He would get out of here.

He had spiraled so deeply into his thoughts that he almost didn't see the body. He swore it hadn't been there before, but he blinked and there was someone slumped in the passage, just a few feet ahead of him.

Ethan stopped abruptly. For a moment, he just stared. The person wasn't moving. They were wearing paint-splattered jeans and a black jacket that Ethan had given them. They had a mane of red hair.

"Rachel?" Ethan whispered. His voice was croaky and indistinct and terrified. He sounded like the little boy that had just shot his father in the face.

Carefully, he took a few steps forward, toward her. It had to be an illusion. He knew it had to be. Rachel Elizabeth Dare had just started her summer break. She was probably in New York, arguing with her father. There was no reason for her to be in Rome, in a tunnel, her body waiting for Ethan. It was an illusion of convenience, meant to mess with Ethan.

But it looked so real. As Ethan got closer, he saw smaller details. There was blood at the corner of her mouth. Her green eyes were blank and dazed, but they focused on Ethan as he knelt by her.

"Ethan," she murmured. He reached down and she wrapped her fingers around his wrist. They were unnaturally pale, like she'd lost a lot of blood.

"Rachel," Ethan whispered. This wasn't real, this wasn't real. But she felt real. For an illusion, she was terribly solid.