The silence in the tunnel was absolute, broken only by the settling of dust and the frantic pounding of my own heart against my ribs.
Damian carried me through the choking haze, his strides sure and terrifyingly efficient.
The pain in my ankle was a living thing, each step a white-hot lance, but it was nothing compared to the seismic shock that had just ripped through my understanding of reality.
My fingers were locked in the fine weave of his jacket, the only solid thing in a world that had just revealed its hidden, monstrous teeth.
Luka was already at the Gallery B entrance, his face a mask of grim professionalism belying the horror in his eyes when they flickered to Damian’s.
He didn’t ask.
He just fell into step ahead, flashlight beam cutting a path through the debris-choked air.
