Chapter Twenty-Four: The Night Before the Storm

The tunnel was cold, damp with the scent of stone and earth, stretching on for miles in either direction. The dim glow of lanterns flickered against the rough-hewn walls, casting long, wavering shadows over the group huddled together near the center of the underground hideaway.

They had been walking for two days.

Two days of hushed conversations, of whispered doubts, of watching Talulah sit in eerie, unmoving silence after Zeke's disappearance.

Two days of feeling the weight of the surface pressing down on them.

And now—they were finally close.

Tara sat against the wall, arms wrapped around her knees, watching as Ballad, Landon, and Collin stood around a crude, hand-drawn map that Seamus had etched into the dirt with the tip of his walking stick.

"This," Seamus muttered, pointing to the far right of the map, "is where the tunnel used to lead."

Ballad crossed her arms. "Used to?"

Seamus sighed. "This place was built long before the Middle Order became what it is today. Back then, it was part of the old passageways—the underground roads leading to the human cities before the Divide."

Tara narrowed her eyes, studying the map. "And now?"

Seamus met her gaze. "Now, it leads somewhere between the Order and Fluorescent territory."

Landon exhaled sharply. "That's not exactly helpful."

Collin frowned, running a hand through his messy red curls. "If it leads to the border, then we might be able to get through undetected—if we move fast enough."

Skye leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching the conversation unfold with his usual unreadable expression.

Tara studied the map again. "The Middle Order is fortified," she murmured. "It's all government buildings, concrete, and steel. If we surface too close to the border, we'll have guards on us in seconds."

Ballad tilted her head, assessing Tara. "You sound like you know it well."

Tara swallowed. "I do."

She grew up there.

Those streets weren't just something she had heard about in passing.

She had walked them. Lived them.

Collin let out a long breath. "So, what's the best route?"

Tara hesitated. "There's a market square a few blocks from the Convocation Hall," she said slowly, tapping her finger against the ground. "If we can surface there, we can blend in with the crowd—get supplies, figure out our next move."

Seamus nodded. "Aye, that sounds about right. It used to be an old transit station."

Landon's brow furrowed. "We still don't know how many guards are stationed there. If Bailon suspects we're coming..."

Silence fell over the group.

Tara felt the weight of that truth settle in her chest.

Bailon knew she was alive. Knew she had escaped.

And if Zeke had talked—if he had broken under pressure—then they could be walking into a trap.

Ballad let out a slow exhale, stretching her arms over her head. "Sounds like we could die in the morning."

Seamus smirked. "Aye. Which means it's the perfect night for a drink."

⸻

Seamus led them further into the cavern, where an old, rusted-out metal crate sat tucked against the wall.

With a dramatic flourish, he kicked it open.

Inside—several glass bottles, some covered in dust, others still filled with dark amber liquid.

Lottie let out a low whistle. "Now that's a surprise."

Ballad grinned. "Don't tell me you were holding out on us, old man."

Seamus chuckled, pulling out the bottles. "A man's got to have his secrets."

They gathered in a loose circle, some sitting on the ground, others perched on crates or against the walls. The first bottle was passed to Ballad, who uncorked it with her teeth, took a long swig, and let out a satisfied sigh.

"Strong."

Lottie reached for it next, eyes gleaming. "I like strong."

Skye didn't move to take the bottle, but his black-glimmering eyes flicked toward the group, watching.

Seamus smirked. "Drinking game?"

Ballad grinned. "Drinking game."

Lottie licked her lips. "Rules?"

Ballad tapped her fingers against the bottle. "You drink if you've ever—"

She glanced at Tara, eyes glinting.

"—kissed someone you shouldn't have."

Tara felt heat crawl up her neck.

Ballad took a drink without hesitation.

Lottie smirked. "I think we all know why."

Ballad nudged Lottie with her foot. "Shut up."

Lottie grabbed the bottle, drinking deep.

Tara's brows raised.

Ballad stared at her.

Tara blinked.

Then realization hit.

"Oh."

Lottie smirked again, tipping the bottle toward Ballad. "You never asked."

Ballad let out a short breath, shaking her head. "You're a menace."

Lottie winked.

Tara exhaled, watching the tension between them shift.

It wasn't loud or dramatic.

But it was there.

Ballad and Lottie had spent so long ignoring it.

Now, there was no ignoring it anymore.

Collin grabbed the bottle next, raising an eyebrow at Lottie. "We're doing confessions now?"

Ballad smirked. "You nervous, Collin?"

Collin huffed, tipping the bottle back and taking a long, deep drink.

Tara raised an eyebrow. "What was that for?"

Collin set the bottle down.

Then, his bright blue eyes flicked toward Skye.

Tara felt the entire group still.

Even Skye's expression shifted slightly, his gaze sharpening.

Collin ran a hand through his curls, then let out a breath.

"I'm in love with him," he muttered.

Silence.

Then—

Lottie cackled.

Tara's lips parted in shock.

Ballad let out a low whistle.

Skye just—stared.

Collin groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I hate all of you."

Ballad grinned. "No, you don't."

Collin grumbled something under his breath.

Tara glanced at Skye. He wasn't smirking. He wasn't mocking.

He just...watched.

His black eyes flickered, but he said nothing.

Ballad clapped her hands together. "Well. That was fun."

Seamus chuckled. "Best way to face death—get drunk and confess your sins."

Landon groaned. "Can we not call it that?"

Seamus grinned. "Why not? It's dramatic."

Tara leaned back, watching the group laugh, watching Ballad and Lottie exchange quiet glances, watching Collin stare into his drink like he regretted every decision he had ever made.

Tomorrow, they would surface.

Tomorrow, they would face whatever waited for them.

But tonight—

They were still here.

Still alive.

And for one last time, they were just a group of misfits, drinking in the dark.