17. Hey, You're Not Dead!

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"How exactly are you planning to get out?" Nevaeh asked. Her voice was still trembling even if her hands were steady.

"We're going to hobble over, get the knife, untie ourselves and make a run for it," Esme answered calmly. "Just push back against your chair, I'll do the same and we can walk over there together."

"That's not going to work."

"You haven't even tried."

"I don't need to, it's not going to work," Nevaeh argued.

"As fascinating as that would be to watch, why don't we try it my way," Easton suggested at his feet hit the ground. He'd shimmied his way through the narrow window in the wall, looking a little worse for wear but very much alive. Fresh blood was splattered across his shirt.

"Easton," Esme nearly sobbed in relief. "Well don't just stand there, get us out of here."

"As you wish Essie," he laughed. He knelt by their joined hands and picked apart the bindings in a matter of seconds.

Esme was the first back on her feet, rubbing at her wrists to restore the blood flow to her aching fingers. "How'd you find us? Better question, how are you alive?"

"Good to see you too," Easton muttered. "They missed when they shot, not by much but it was enough. As for how I found you, some idiot was dumb enough to text the location to one of the guys they left behind to finish me."

"That's convenient," Nevaeh pointed out.

"We can discuss this all in much greater detail after we've gotten out," Easton offered as he dragged one of the chairs to the window. He stepped up and pulled himself out after a quick check. He held a hand out to them, gesturing for them to hurry.

"You go first," Esme said, helping Nevaeh up.

"Don't try to look up my dress," she teased.

Esme blushed and made a big show of looking away until Nevaeh's feet, still in their high heels, disappeared through the window. Easton's hand once again reached in, but Lars made his grand reentrance then, His eyes swept the room and locked on Esme after he'd taken in the remaining chair at the center of the room.

"Go!" Esme shouted to them, grabbing the chair and throwing it at Lars as she ducked to the side to avoid his reaching arms. Lars was stunned for a moment but had a handful of her hair only a moment later. He pulled and Esme crashed into the ground. The impact to her back stole her breath away and she fought to inhale properly as she rolled out of the way.

He grabbed for her again, grazing her arm as she scrabbled for anything she could use as a weapon. Splintered bits of the chair she'd smashed at him scratched at her hands but didn't seem to phase him when she threw them at him. He lunged and pinned her to the ground with ease. His knees squeezed inwards on either side of her ribcage. Outside she could hear gunshots and cars speeding away. At least that meant less people for her to deal with. She wondered if Easton and Nevaeh had gotten out.

"You should have just talked the first time we took you," Lars snarled.

"Yeah well, maybe I'm kind of wishing I had," she spat back. "This is a lot of work for some stupid bunker locations."

They both froze, her last words seeming to hang in the air between them. Neither spoke, not that Esme would have heard him over the overlapping voices bouncing around her skull. Her hands dropped from their hold on his collar.

Agent 23, do not come out of there without those locations.

Something doesn't feel right here.

Intel acquired, requesting pickup.

Get out of there bird! Run!

Agent 23, report!

Grab her! Restrain her!

Hello agent 23.

Esme squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her hands to her ears. She knew Lars was still above her, and he was speaking, but it sounded like gibberish. What she needed was to get out, she needed to run. It didn't matter where to, she just needed to go. Rough fingers wrapped around her wrist and her eyes snapped open.

As Lars pulled her hand from her ear, she thrust the other hand forward and jammed the heel of her palm into his chin as hard as she could. His head snapped back, and his body raised just enough for her to wiggle out and push herself up. Lars recovered quicker than she'd anticipated, and he dove forward to wrap his arms around her waist. She only just managed to keep her arms locked to avoid slamming her chest into the ground with his full weight behind her.

Time was running out. Any second someone would be in here to check on them. One person was proving difficult enough for her to handle. Two would be impossible. Esme balanced precariously on one arm and jerked her other back, slamming her elbow into Lars' side. He crumpled like a deflated accordion and she shot forward again.

Every step she managed, he fought to pull her back. The thrumming in her ears was growing louder by the second. The ground was rough under her and felt like it was tearing at her bruised and battered skin. Esme finally pulled herself to her feet and Lars tackled her in the next heartbeat. They tumbled into the cart and the metal instruments on the top shelf clattered as they bounced across the floor.

The switchblade hit her palm.

She thrust it forward.

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