The deeper we went into the forgotten sector, the colder the air became. Not the natural chill of underground stone. This was chemical cold. Lifeless. A shallow breath kind of cold that felt pressed into the walls years ago and never disturbed.
Until now.
Beau held a light ahead of us, its beam cutting through layers of dust suspended in the air. Jack stayed close beside me, one hand threaded through mine as if he was afraid to lose even that small point of contact.
We stepped through a low doorway into a chamber that felt different from the rest of the tunnels. Bigger. Wider. And wrong in a quiet, unsettling way that made the back of my neck prickle.
Tables lined the walls. Broken screens. Old diagnostic frames. Restraints that had long since rusted from disuse. The dust on the floor
