As the moon climbed higher into the sky, Jesse went over his plan in his head one last time. He'd spent the entire day plotting, and he was confident that what he'd come up with would work. It had to work.

He stepped away from the window and took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself. The last thing he needed was his anxiety getting in the way, so he focused on his wolf; it craved Ross, desperate for his presence, and that was what drove Jesse forward.

Once he pulled on the beanie that he took from his suitcase—which barely survived the explosion of his room, covered in scrapes and tears—he headed over to the door and listened. He couldn't hear anyone outside. Despite the recent attack and Ross' escape, it sounded as if the night shift was still thin. That didn't mean he could relax, though.

He quietly opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. As Sophie instructed, he navigated the corridors until he found a spiral staircase. He silently made his way down, stopping beside each doorway and peering beyond to ensure that no one was waiting, and when he reached the service floor, he took cover behind a locker and scoured the narrow passage for any signs of maintenance workers.

It appeared that he was alone.

The first thing he did was take a maintenance uniform from the locker. It was a little big for him, but he didn't care. He hastily pulled it on over his clothes, zipped it up, and glanced at the nametag pinned to the chest pocket. Riggs? Whoever he was, Jesse was glad that he left his uniform behind.

With another deep breath, Jesse followed the small passage into a cramped hallway. The walls were lined with pipes and valves; there were no windows—which made sense since the deck was under the water's surface. The smell of burning coal and engine fuel was thick in the gloomy air, and with every inhale, Jesse could taste the oil.

He walked forward, searching for both the map that Sophie mentioned and maintenance locker fifteen. To his relief, the map and locker were on opposite sides of the wall to each other, the map to the left and the locker to the right, and the emergency evacuation ladder was beside the locker.

Jesse stood in front of the map. It was covered in grime and dust, but he located deck five: the brig. He examined each path with his eyes, seeing which had the most cover towards Ross' cell. There were three possible routes, but the longest seemed to have more places for Jesse to hide and wait. He had no idea how many guards were down there, but he hoped that most of them were sleeping.

"Okay," he whispered to himself, relaxing his tense shoulders. "Okay," he said again, huffing away as much of his anxiety as he could, and then he turned around, facing the ladder. Once he climbed to deck five...it would be both his life and Ross' on the line. He couldn't mess up, and he couldn't get caught.

Jesse grasped the ladder's first step. His limbs were shaking, his heart raced in his chest, and his breaths became harder to take with each passing moment. The cowardly part of him wanted to give in already; the part of him that wondered if he was doing the right thing urged him not to put his life and freedom at risk for a man who killed hundreds. But his wolf, the larger part of him, wanted Ross. That man was his mate, and he wasn't going to lose him.

He started climbing, staring up, concentrating as best he could despite his increasing dread. Deck One, Deck Two, Deck Three; when he got to Deck Four, the foul smell that Sophie mentioned pierced Jesse's nose. It was like raw sewage mixed with seawater, and it only got worse the higher he went.

When he reached Deck Five, the smell was so bad that Jesse felt as if he might pass out. He held on, though, climbing off the ladder and onto the metal floor. The service room he emerged into was small, packed with old equipment and abandoned, filthy clothes. Old shackles and restraints lay covered in dust inside a broken chest, and from the wall hung muzzles, the kind that Jesse saw his pack sometimes silence captured wolves with.

As silently as he could, he moved towards the door and listened. He couldn't hear much; a few distant voices, some jazz music, and the clanging of metal pipes. From what he could tell, there wasn't anyone outside the door, so he very carefully pulled it open and peered outside.

Left and right, the corridor was empty.

Jesse did his best to compose himself and stepped out. Remembering the map, he went left, sticking closely to the wall.

When he approached a closed door, the jazz music got louder, as did some of the male voices. He slowed down and grimaced nervously; there were guards on the other side, and if he made one wrong move, they'd come out and find him.

He held his breath, each step a slow, calculated progression; even when he passed the door, he remained steady and gradual. There were more closed doors, and considering that they didn't possess bars, and that several voices came from within each, he assumed that he was passing the guards' quarters.

A door opened ahead of him.

Jesse's heart raced frantically as he desperately searched for somewhere to hide. All that was close by was a desk with no chair, piled with crates, so he dived underneath it, scrunched up his body as best he could, and held his breath.

"I dunno, man," one of the two approaching guards said. "Seems like a lot just for one show."

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"But it's totally worth it," the other said as their heavy boots passed Jesse. "Nothing beats showgirls."

The pair kept walking, their voices getting further and further away until they weren't audible over the clanging, hissing pipes.

Jesse peered out from under the desk, checking left and right. Sure that he was alone again, he climbed out and continued on his path. Once he turned out of the hallway, he emerged into a corridor lined with barred doors.

He was halfway there.

Before he could find Ross' cell, though, he needed the keys.

Instead of proceeding, he turned around and eyed the doors he'd already passed. The one with 'Warden' written on it was where he needed to go, but on the other side...he heard thunderous snoring.

Once again, the hopeless part of him urged him to turn back, but his wolf encouraged him forward. Jesse didn't plan to turn back. He edged closer to the door and shakily gripped the handle; he gradually twisted it until the lock clicked, and then he eased it open.

He peered inside, setting his eyes on the sleeping warden, who lay on his side on his bed with his back to Jesse. And the keys were hanging from the wall above his head.

Jesse silently stifled his breath as he crept into the room. His heart raced faster and faster as he approached the sleeping man; he extended his arm, reaching for the keys—

The floorboards creaked under his footfall.

With a horrified flinch, Jesse gawped down at the man.

His snoring stopped, and the man grunted....

He stirred....

....

....

And then he went back to snoring.

Jesse silently exhaled and hastily snatched the keys. The silver metal burned his skin, but he didn't care. He grimaced, ignoring the pain as his palm sizzled; he stuffed them into the trouser pocket of his maintenance suit and crept out of the room, and once he pulled the door shut, he headed for Ross' cell.

His heart didn't stop racing, but now, it was thumping with angst and excitement. He had the keys, and he was almost to Ross' cell, but the elation faded when he began wondering how he was going to keep his mate hidden until they reached DeiganLupus. The guards would likely suspect that, after his second escape, Ross would return to Jesse, so he was going to have to be extremely cautious and crafty if he was going to keep Ross from being found for the next twenty-four hours.

He couldn't get side-tracked. First, he needed to actually break Ross out.

Jesse powered onwards, paying no mind to the throbbing pain of his burned skin; he'd heal eventually. He turned left, right, and left once more, and at the very end of the corridor...was his mate's cell.

He wanted to pick up the pace—he wanted to run to Ross—but he had to be careful. So he stuck to his slow, steady approach, getting closer...and closer...and....

Where the hell was he?

Jesse peered into the cell where he'd first seen Ross, but he was nowhere to be seen. The door wasn't even locked.

Dread, confusion, and dismay gripped him tightly. Where was Ross? Had they moved him? Where?

He looked around, searching up and down the corridor, but all of the cells were open.

The urge to call for Ross hit him, but he couldn't do that.

Desperation sunk its teeth into Jesse's trembling body, biting down harder and harder as the fact that Ross was gone stabbed at his heart.

But then he felt it...that same pull which led him to Ross in the first place.

His wolf begged him to follow, and he didn't even question it. Jesse turned on his heel and followed the pull towards the stairs that he'd taken down to the brig at the beginning. It led him down a corridor to the right, and at the end, it told him to turn left...but a guard was sitting outside the only cell at the back of the passage.

Jesse froze on the spot, his mind racing as he tried to come up with a plan to get rid of the man; however, he didn't take long to see that the guard was sleeping. There wasn't much space between him and the cell, but Jesse didn't have any other options. He was going to have to get past him.

He took a step forward...and then another and another, and as he got closer and closer to the guard, the greater Jesse's cowardice became. He wanted to turn back; he was terrified that the guard would wake up, catch him, and throw him into a cell of his own. But he couldn't. He wouldn't. Ross needed him, and he needed Ross.

When he got within a few feet of the guard, he slowed so much that he was barely moving at all. He lifted one foot, stepping over the sleeping guard's extended legs, and then he pulled the other past him. The man didn't wake, so Jesse turned his attention to the cell and stopped in front of it. He looked through the barred window, and there, laying on the floor in a puddle of fresh and dried blood, bound by not only silver shackles but chains ensnaring his entire body, was Ross.

The sight broke Jesse's heart. Wrapped in all that silver, barely breathing; he must be locked in a state of utter agony.

He stifled his mate's name and looked over his shoulder at the guard, who was merely ten feet away. He had to be very careful.

Jesse took the silver keys from his pocket, once again ignoring the pain as the metal burned his fingers. He eased the largest into the door's lock, and when he twisted it, the mechanism didn't make too loud of a noise, and the guard remained snoring quietly.

One down...however many more to go.

He eased the door open and stepped into the cell, and then he hurried over to Ross.

"Ross?" he whispered, placing his hand on his mate's shoulder.

Ross didn't respond.

There wasn't time for Jesse to try and wake him up, especially not while he was entangled in silver chains. So he got to work, searching for all the padlocks keeping the metal in place. The first one he found was keeping the shackles around Ross' ankles. He eased the key in, and when he unlocked them, he pulled the shackles away, grimacing as the silver singed his skin.

He unlocked the shackles around Ross' wrists next, and then he began locating each lock connecting all the larger chains together. One by one, he pulled them away from his mate, and when he detached the last chain, Ross finally showed signs of life.

His mate flinched and exhaled painfully, blood oozing from the sores left by the chains.

"Ross?" Jesse whispered, placing his hand on his arm. "It's Jesse."

Ross opened his eyes and looked up at him. A look of relief smothered his bloody face, but he didn't speak. It was probably too painful.

Jesse gripped his mate's arms and helped him move away from the chains he was lying on. He wanted to comfort him, hold him and tell him that it was going to be okay, but there wasn't time. They had to get out of there and back to his room.

"We have to get out of here," he said, keeping his voice as hushed as possible.

Ross didn't reply.

Jesse tried pulling him to his feet, but the man was too heavy. "Please," he insisted, tugging on him. "We don't have time."

His mate was reluctant. A pained, hesitant groan escaped his struggling breaths, but he nodded and climbed to his feet with Jesse's assistance.

But when they stumbled towards the door, the guard stopped snoring, and horror smothered Jesse's face.

He was awake.