The corridors of the Proscenium had become a labyrinth of fire and shadow.
Alarms shrieked through the ship's intercom, a pulsing wail that echoed off the polished walls and drove splinters of sound into Caleb's skull. Emergency lights strobed in the corners of his vision, painting the world in alternating bands of red and black. The team ran through the chaos, their footsteps pounding on the marble floors, their breath coming in ragged gasps. Behind them, the security teams were mobilizing—heavy boots on metal stairs, shouted orders cutting through the din, the cold clatter of weapons being readied.
Caleb ran with one hand pressed against his side, the fresh stitches pulling with every stride. The fragment of the master key was in his pocket, a cold weight against his hip. The other two
