At least none of the were going to die.

In spite of the atmosphere of danger, he had the sense that the Brotherhood wasn’t actually going to hurt any of them: The “explosions” were just a lot of sound and light; there was no debris, no structures falling, no smell of smoke. Likewise, whatever was making those people throw up couldn’t be anything fatal. The folks down on the gym floor were not in their happy place, for sure—but among the flashes of illumination, he saw that some of the first who’d fallen were already getting to their feet.

This was a test, an elaborate, God-only-knew-how-long test—and at the rate things were going, the program’s passage rate might be even lower than what he’d quoted Paradise.

Craeg paused and looked back for a split second. He couldn’t seem to help it.

But there was no telling where she was in the fray. Not enough sustained light, and too many bodies.

Just keep going, he told himself.

You’ve done it before, you’re going to do it tonight.

Pressing on, he worked his way around the periphery of the exercise equipment. Really not a good idea to take cover behind or under any of it. From time to time, he’d see out of the corner of his eye some poor soul give that a shot—only to appear to be electrocuted, their bodies going all bad angles in the strobing light as they jerked back and twisted and fell.

He really hoped she’d listened to what he’d said.

Ducking his head and moving fast, he eventually came around to the open doorway in the far corner. The scent of fresh air was intoxicating, a respite that charged his body with additional power. But he couldn’t see what was on the other side—and cursed himself that he hadn’t followed through on the passing impulse to keep a flashlight on him.

Okay, fine, so even he hadn’t expected things to get this frickin’ intense.

“This is where we have to go.”

At the sound of a low voice, he glanced behind himself—and was shocked to find a female standing next to him. It wasn’t the lovely blonde, not even close. In fact, this one seemed to suggest that the term fairer sex was a serious misnomer: She was nearly as tall as he was, muscled under her athletic clothes, and the way she looked him in the eye, he knew immediately she was even smarter than she was strong.

“I’m Craeg,” he said, putting out his palm.

“Novo.”

Unsurprisingly, the shake was tight and short.

“This is next.” She nodded at the void. “Why the hell didn’t I bring a flashlight?”

“I was thinking the same—”

“This way!” someone hollered. “This is the way!”

In the strobe lighting, Craeg saw a group of three males gunning for the open doorway, led by a big muckling guy who wore an expression of anticipatory triumph that Craeg was pretty damn sure wasn’t going to stay in place for long.

Craeg shook his head and stepped back. However he went in there, it wasn’t going to be headlong and at a dead run. For all they knew—

One … two … three … the trio passed by him and the female, who also stepped aside.

Right away the door slammed shut with a loud clang. And then there were screams from the other side.

Craeg looked around. Maybe something else was going to open? Or was he not casting a wide enough net? It was possible that there was another answer—

At that moment, he saw a pair of ropes hanging from the ceiling about thirty feet away. He could have sworn they hadn’t been there before—who knew.

“That’s the next option,” he said.

“Let’s do it.”

The pair of them took off, running around the exercise equipment, heading for the ropes before anyone else went over there. There was no telling where the lengths led to—he couldn’t see that far up—but the lights were strobing with greater intensity, and there were no other options.

“Rock, paper, scissors for who picks first,” she said, putting out her fist.

He did the same. “One, two, three.” Craeg threw rock, she threw paper. “Your pick.”

“Right.”

Craeg grabbed the left one and pulled so hard his palms burned. Certainly seemed strong enough. But if he was wrong? Long way to fall, and there was no padding underneath.

He and the female went hand over hand, gripping, pulling up, using their feet to clasp the loosey-goosey they left behind as they ascended. And she was nearly as fast as he was, not that he spent a lot of time measuring her progress. Up, up, up—until the speakers from which the explosion noises ripped were directly above his head and the light boxes generating the jagged illumination overwhelmed his vision from straight ahead.

“Now what,” he barked when he was about six feet from the ceiling.

“Scaffolding,” she yelled back, shifting her grip and pointing.

Sure enough, there was some kind of catwalk suspended from metal wires. Glancing down, he said another prayer that the platform was strong enough to hold his weight.

“I’ll go first.”

“Rock, paper, scissors,” she hollered. “One, two, three.”

He threw scissors; she threw paper.

“Me first,” he announced.

Except the catwalk was a distance away even as he came up to its height. Holding on to the thick rope, he used his lower body to create a swaying motion … that increased to a full-on swing. It was going to require perfect timing to get this right—he was going to have to go hands-free for a good five feet of nothing-but-net. And shit only knew what he was going to find when he landed.