The hidden door slammed shut behind us, sealing off the hallway and the sounds of the Hollow Men like a lid on a boiling pot. The air inside the narrow passage was colder, denser, almost metallic. I could taste fear in it — mine, not Cole’s.
Cole moved fast, pulling me deeper into the dark corridor. His hand was tight around mine, but not painful. Anchoring. Guiding. Urgent.
“Don’t stop,” he said.
I didn’t.
The passage twisted sharply, then opened into a wider chamber — a room carved into the foundation of the safe house, reinforced with steel beams and concrete walls. It wasn’t a basement. It wasn’t a bunker.
It was a fortress.
Cole shut the heavy door behind us, locking three separate bolts. The sound echoed like a gunshot.
I spun toward him. “Cole—what is this place?”
He didn’t
