RUBY
I watched Fabian's sneakers disappear into the darkness of the ventilation shaft, my heart hammering against my ribs like a wild animal seeking escape. The metallic scrape of the vent cover as I carefully replaced it echoed in the silent room, each tiny sound magnified by my terror.
"Be safe, baby," I whispered, pressing my palm against the cool metal. "Be brave."
My son was gone—crawling through a maze of metal ducts toward an uncertain freedom while I remained behind in this cold, sterile prison cell. The weight of our separation crushed my chest.
What if he got lost in those vents? What if he fell? What if Vaughn or one of his men heard him?