"Left," Isabella hissed, her voice barely audible over the distant wail of alarms. "The maintenance shaft should connect to the old ventilation system."
Liam moved ahead, weapon raised, his body tensed for any threat that might materialize from the red-tinged darkness. The emergency lighting cast long shadows across the concrete walls, transforming every recess into a potential ambush point.
"How do you know about these tunnels?" he asked, checking around a corner before signaling her forward.
"I don't," Isabella admitted, following close behind. "But you do."
Liam shot her a questioning glance.
"You were semi-conscious when they brought you in," she explained. "I saw the route maps they had in the observation room. They were monitoring your eye movements—checking if you were memorizing the facility layout even while drugged."
A ghost of a smile touched Liam's battered face. "And was I?"
