The damp air clung to their skin, thick with the scent of wet earth. The tunnel walls pressed tight around them, every breath echoing in the confined space.
Marcus tightened his grip on Ellen's arm, the blade pressed just below her jaw. Her face remained calm, but Scarlett saw the tension in her eyes—a silent, terrified plea.
Nathan's voice was low, controlled. "Let her go, Marcus. This isn't going to end well for you." He said with a threatening tone.
Marcus's lips curled into a bitter smile. "Isn't it? Because from where I'm standing, I'm the one calling the shots." He nodded toward the ceiling. "You hear that? Reinforcements. Won't be long before this place is crawling with men, and you're out of options." He said as he gradually drags her backwards.
Suddenly, footsteps echoed from both directions. The heavy clang of boots. One set closing in from above, the other echoing from the tunnel's far end.
They are Grayson's men and Isabella's men.