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Chapter 10

Avery

I slowly blink awake, the haze of unconsciousness lifting like a heavy fog. My entire body aches, as if I've been hit by a truck. The room is dimly lit, its cold, sterile walls pressing in on me. I turn my head slightly, wincing at the sharp pain that shoots through my neck. That's when I see him—Maverick, lying a few feet away, his eyes closed, body covered in wounds and scabs.

"Maverick," I whisper, my voice hoarse and weak. No response.

I call again, louder this time, but he still doesn't stir. Panic flutters in my chest, but with the little energy I have left, I nudge him gently. His eyes flutter open, and he looks at me, groggy but alive.

"So they did the same to you, huh?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Maverick nods, wincing as he shifts slightly. His face is battered, and I can see the exhaustion weighing on him. "Are you okay?" I ask gently, the words coming out before I can stop myself.

He smirks, though it's clearly painful for him. "The Ice Queen is worried about me?" His voice is weak, but the teasing tone is unmistakable.

I roll my eyes, even though it takes more effort than I'd like to admit. "Don't think too much about it, Fox."

Maverick groans in pain as he slowly sits up. I can tell he's trying to hide just how much he's hurting, but it's written all over his face.

"I think it's time we start planning something about our escape," I say, my voice steady despite the situation.

"It's near impossible to escape," Maverick replies, his voice low and defeated. "We're both in handcuffs, there are no windows, and there's a single door guarded outside. Any ideas, Ice Queen?"

I hesitate for a second before meeting his gaze. "I may have an idea..."

Maverick

"Let's hear it, then." I lean back against the wall, trying to look casual, but every muscle in my body is tense, waiting for her to reveal whatever she's come up with.

She takes a deep breath, clearly thinking through every detail before she speaks. That's another thing about her—Avery doesn't rush into things. It's why we butt heads sometimes, with my more... let's say, "improvised" style of working. She's methodical, careful, and right now, we need that.

"There's a shift change," she starts. "I heard one of the guards mention it when they thought I was out cold. It's happening soon—maybe in the next couple of hours."

I nod, following her so far. Shift change means a momentary lapse in attention, guards moving in and out, maybe an opportunity to slip through unnoticed.

"If we time it right, we could create a distraction. Something that pulls the guards toward the door and away from us for just a minute. We won't need much time, just a window to get out."

I'm listening now, really listening. She's not wrong. We don't need to overpower the guards—just outthink them. "What kind of distraction are we talking about?"

"That's the tricky part." She bites her lip, thinking it through. "We can't do much while we're cuffed, but we could use what little we have. The chairs, maybe. One of us could pretend to pass out or start convulsing. Something that forces the guards to come in here. When they do, we make our move."

I nod, warming up to the idea. It's risky as hell, but then again, what isn't at this point?

"When they come in, we use the chairs as weapons, right? Knock them out, grab the keys, and get out of here."

"Exactly," she says, her voice firmer now, gaining confidence. "It's not perfect, but it's better than sitting here and waiting for them to decide what to do with us."

She's right. Doing nothing is a death sentence. I can feel that in my bones. Kane's got too much at stake to just let us walk away. If we don't act, we're done for.

I catch Avery's eye, and there's this flicker of something there—hope, maybe. It's fragile, but it's enough to make me believe in this crazy plan of hers. It's not perfect, but it's good. Good enough to work, anyway.

"You really think this could work?" I ask, not because I don't believe her, but because I want to hear her say it. I want to know that she's as all-in on this as I am.

She nods, and for the first time since we woke up in this hellhole, I think we might actually have a shot. "Yeah, I do. But we have to be ready. Timing is everything."

I smile, despite myself. "You're starting to sound like me. Risk it all, right?"

Avery rolls her eyes but doesn't deny it. "Don't get used to it, Walker. This is survival, not one of your reckless stunts."

"Sure, sure," I say, but there's a small part of me that likes this side of her—the one willing to take risks, even if it's just this once.

I shift my weight, testing the handcuffs again. They dig into my wrists, cold metal biting into skin, but I try to ignore it. Focus on the plan. On getting out. "So who's doing what? Am I the one passing out or are you?"

Avery smirks, the corner of her mouth lifting just enough to show that, despite everything, she's still got fight left in her. "I'm not passing out, Maverick. You're a much better actor."

I raise an eyebrow. "Oh, really? You think you're too good for the role?"

"I think I'll be more useful if I'm not pretending to be unconscious," she retorts, folding her arms over her chest, or at least as much as she can with the cuffs.

"Fine, I'll take one for the team," I say, feigning disappointment, but inside, I'm already working out the details. How to time it, how to make it convincing. "So, I pass out, they come in, we use the chairs, and boom, we're out of here."

"Something like that," Avery agrees, but there's a flicker of doubt in her eyes now. Not doubt in the plan—doubt in the execution. We both know it's not going to be smooth, but it's all we've got.

I glance around the room again, taking in the lack of windows, the heavy door, the guards we can't see but know are waiting just beyond. The odds are stacked against us, but for the first time since we woke up in this prison, I feel a sliver of hope. A real shot at getting out.

"Okay, let's do it," I say, my voice steady, determined. I turn to Avery, locking eyes with her. "We've got nothing to lose."

Avery nods, her expression serious. "And everything to gain."

As we settle into our positions, preparing for what comes next, a strange calm washes over me. Maybe it's the adrenaline, or maybe it's the fact that we're finally doing something, but for the first time since this nightmare started, I feel like we're in control.

This is going to work. It has to work.

Because if it doesn't... I don't even want to think about what happens next.