Page 85 of Gatsby's Starlet
Because thinking about him hurt too much.
Ruby let out a shaky breath and dragged her hands through her hair before pushing to her feet, pacing the small space like she couldn’t sit still, like if she did she’d come apart completely.
“How do we get out?” she asked, louder now, more frantic, her eyes scanning the dirt walls like something might be hidden there.
Her voice broke on the last word. That was when it really hit her. Her steps slowed, then stopped, her back to me as her shoulders went rigid.
“We have to come up with a plan,” I said, but even to my own ears it sounded thin.
“We’re going to die down here,” she whispered.
The words hung between us. Heavy. Final. I let them sit there for a second. Then I pushed to my feet, ignoring the way my legs protested, the stiffness, the cold, forcing myself to move because standing still wasn’t an option anymore.
“No,” I said, and this time there was something harder under it. “We’re not.”
She turned toward me slowly, her face pale even in the dark, her eyes wide in a way that hadn’t been there before. “How do you know that?”
I held her gaze. “I don’t,” I said.
Then I stepped past her, moving toward the wall, toward the edges of the space, my hands already reaching out, fingers dragging over the rough surface, feeling every crack, every shift, testing it.
“But I’m not waiting to find out.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
THE ROOM DIDN'Tempty all at once, but it mightas well have. Second the plan locked in, chairs scraped back and everything shifted, talk to movement, noise to purpose. Guys already grabbing what they needed, weapons checked, voices low and clipped, running through pieces of it again even though they didn't have to.
I didn't move.
Stayed where I was, hands on the edge of the table, staring at the map. Wasn't seeing it anymore. Just lines and marks that didn't mean anything while boots and metal and engines turning over outside pressed in from somewhere distant, like it hadn't quite landed yet.
We had a general location.
That was what mattered.
“We'll get to her in time,” somebody said behind me. Didn't catch who. Didn't matter. It hit wrong anyway, not the words, but everything underneath them. All the time we couldn't get back.
Jaw tightened. Something pulled low and hard through my chest.
I pushed off the table and dragged a hand down over my face once, like that might do something.
It didn't.
For a second, just a second, her face cut through anyway.
The way she looked at things. Quiet. Like she was taking her time with them. Like she didn't trust herself to rush.
Like she trusted where she was.
Worst possible timing.
I shoved it down hard.
Doesn't matter now.
Whatever I'd missed didn't change what this was. They had her. That was the whole thing.
“Gatsby.”
