Chapter 111

Cyrus

"We wait."

I spotted the expectation in her eyes as soon as she asked the question. A splash of hopefulness.

As if she expected me to break out a package of dental floss from my back pocket and guide us out of our situation.

We were in a shipping crate and I was the face of my operation with my twin Corbin, not the brains. Plus, dental floss never worked against metal. And our jail cell wouldn’t crack easily. Someone modified the shipping crate in a sick design created to keep us inside but without the fear of running out of air. One whole side of the crate had a hole cut into it. Thick metal bars stuck so close together my finger barely fit through the holes created our literal cell wall. Someone aced welding in shop class.

I wasn’t Superman or MacGyver, so we were screwed.