Chapter 296

Laila fumbled along the wall, tiptoeing and listening for noises. The sounds of the battle upstairs grew fainter and fainter as she made her way past other doors, none of which were the morgue, she supposed, because she didn’t hear Matt or Montilla’s lackey.

Finally, she reached the end of that wall and found herself in the intersection of two corridors. The pounding of something against metal—a fist?—resounded down the empty space almost directly ahead.

Then she heard a voice she’d know anywhere. “Get me the fuck out of here!”

Trees! He was still alive. Still fighting.

“Shut up, freak,” an accented voice spit at him with contempt, sounding even closer.

“You shut up. He’s not a freak,” Matt defended.

“I would love to fight you, tear you limb from limb, vaquero. If el jefe gives me the go-ahead…”

“You’re all talk.” Matt sounded annoyed.

Laila crept closer, still shaking and fighting the urge to curl up into a fetal-position ball, rock b