(PELLA’S POINT OF VIEW)"Don't breathe, just don't even think about breathing until I tell you it’s safe," Pella whispered, her voice barely a tremor in the suffocating darkness of the ventilation shaft. She pressed her back against the cold, corrugated metal, her fingers digging into the shoulders of the two small children she had shoved into the crawlspace behind her."It’s too quiet, Pella. Why did the shooting stop?" the youngest boy, Pip, whimpered. His small hand clutched the hem of her tunic, his knuckles white in the gloom."The shooting stopped because they found something better than bullets," Pella replied, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She leaned her ear against the thin metal floor of the vent.Far below, in the grand hallways of the Montague Estate, she didn't hear the heavy boots of the Triple-Blood guards or the rhythmic shouting of Somito’s scouts. Instead, there was only a sickening, rhythmic hum—a sound like the air itself was being bruis
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