The cold nibbled at Isla’s skin like a knife as she ran down the access tunnel, rifle up, breath fogging in fast puffs. The place was a labyrinth of steel and ice, dim corridors filled with the thrum of distant generators and the hushed scratch of boots. They ran fast, silent, swooping shadows through the dark.
“East wing clear,” Gabriel said over the comms.
“No sign of patrols. They’re pulling security light.”
“Because they believe they have already won,” whispered Isla.
Damien was in front, silent and tense, with his g*n raised and sweeping the next junction. When he looked back at her, they locked eyes for a half second… barely long enough for them both to think the same unspoken thought.
Not for long.
They discovered the first holding cells deep beneath ground.
Cold. Cramped. S
