Abigail
Sneaking into the prison basement was easier tonight, the guard more then clocked. It was a lot like trying to tiptoe past a sleeping guard dog while wearing bells on your shoes. Not impossible, but definitely not smart.
The hallway held that smelled like damp stone and something metallic—blood, maybe? Gross. The flickering overhead light did its best horror-movie impression as I inched forward, balancing a cloth-wrapped bundle of food against my chest.
If I got caught, I was dead. Worse than dead. Grounded.
Good thing I was pretty good at this now.
I rushed down the steps, trying to ignore the grin on my face when I saw him. Theo sat against the wall, arms draped over his knees, looking at me like I was more of a nuisance than a savior. Typical.
“Oh, look,” Theo drawled,
