The stone door groaned shut behind us.
Darkness swallowed the staircase.
Only the beams from our flashlights cut through the black.
The air was cold.
Stale.
Heavy with the scent of damp concrete and disinfectant.
Lucien stopped halfway down the steps.
His breathing became uneven.
“I know this place.”
No one spoke.
“I’ve walked these stairs before.”
⸻
At the bottom, the tunnel stretched in two directions.
To the left…
Rusted pipes lined the ceiling.
To the right…
Fresh footprints marked the dust-covered floor.
Damien crouched beside them.
“They’re recent.”
“Less than an hour old.”
Agent Isabelle nodded.
“They know we’re here.”
Lucien looked toward the right passage.
“No.”
“They’re waiting.”
⸻
The team moved carefully.
Every footstep echoed through the tunnel.
The
