The klaxon was a physical blow, a screaming red fist pounding against the inside of my skull. It tore through the sedated fog, ripping me back into a world of pure, adrenaline-laced chaos. The guards who had been dragging me down the sterile corridor froze, their professional composure shattering. One fumbled for his radio, barking questions, while the other instinctively shoved me toward the wall, his eyes darting toward the vaulted ceiling as if expecting it to collapse.
My cell door, a slab of reinforced steel, was just ahead. They thrust me inside, but in their haste, the magnetic lock failed to engage with a solid thud. Instead, it gave a sputtering, protesting click. The green ready-light flickered and died. A secondary, manual bolt was meant to slide into place, but the fortress’s
