Vance woke in darkness.
His head pounded. His lungs burned. He was lying on a concrete floor, his hands cuffed behind his back. The air was cold, damp.
He looked around. Echo was in the cell next to him. Hawk across the hall. Flint was unconscious, his face pale.
"Echo," Vance whispered.
She stirred. "Vance? Where are we?"
"I don't know. But we need to get out."
"How? We're locked in."
"Then we find a way."
Vance examined his cell. Concrete walls, a steel door, a small window with bars. No ventilation. No light except a single bulb.
He looked at his cuffs. Steel. Standard issue. He'd escaped from these before.
He worked his hands, twisting, pulling. The cuffs were tight, but not impossible.
Then he heard footsteps.
A figure appeared at the door. Tall, distinguished, with cold e
