The sound of their footsteps echoed endlessly through the dark corridor — fast, uneven, desperate.
The air grew thick with the smell of rust and old oil, the tunnels humming faintly with forgotten energy.
Ethan led the way, his flashlight cutting a thin path through the black.
Maya stayed close behind, her breathing uneven. Agent Hannah brought up the rear, weapon drawn, her eyes sweeping every shadow.
No one spoke.
Not since the sound of gunfire faded behind them — not since Myles stayed behind.
Ethan’s thoughts churned, colliding with the images burned into his mind: her metallic eye flaring in the dark, the shimmer of drones in the smoke, the last flash before silence.
She was gone. Maybe dead. Maybe worse.
He pushed the thought away. There wasn’t time for grief.
“Tunnel’s spli
