The explosion stole the oxygen directly from my lungs.
A thick, suffocating cloud of pulverized concrete and gray smoke rolled into the subterranean bunker like a tidal wave. The ringing in my ears was a high, localized shriek, drowning out the rattle of falling debris and the sparking of severed electrical wires above.
Through the haze, the towering silhouette of Kaelen Cross stepped over the warped, glowing remnants of the steel doors.
He did not look like a man. He looked like the physical manifestation of death. The heavy Kevlar vest he wore was coated in a fresh layer of dust, turning him into a terrifying, statuesque ghost. In his right hand, he held the tactical breaching shotgun. In his left, a serrated, black-bladed combat knife.
Elias was groaning on the concrete floor ab
