The tunnel air clung to us like wet cloth, heavy with mildew and rust. Every footstep echoed longer than it should have, bouncing against walls lined with graffiti and half-peeled posters of concerts from a decade ago. It felt like walking into the lungs of a dead city—stale, collapsing, and yet alive with whispers we couldn’t see.
Adrian took point, his pistol sweeping left to right. His shoulders were tight, deliberate. Kael covered our rear with a silent efficiency that made the hairs on my neck rise; he was too still for someone who should have been just another fighter. Nora stayed close to me, her hand brushing my sleeve now and then, grounding me. She wasn’t rattled, not outwardly—but the tightness in her jaw betrayed nerves.
We’d just left chaos above. Explosions. Betrayals. The
