The corridor sloped downward, carved from raw rock and reinforced with rusted metal ribs. Emergency lights flickered along the walls, casting spasming shadows. Every few meters, a speaker crackled with panicked announcements, "All units to level three, intruder in central command, Leader Corvin is down, repeat, Leader Corvin is down—"
Julian walked at the front, his footsteps silent despite the debris. His left sleeve was torn, and blood trickled down his forearm, but he didn't slow. The Void's Edge was gone, but he didn't need a sword. His hands were enough.
Zoe stayed at his right flank, her senses stretched thin, listening for footsteps, breathing, heartbeats. Her nose caught the scent of fear, sweat, adrenaline, urine. The guards were terrified. That made them dangerous.
Dori brought up the rear, her pistol reloaded and held in both hands. She kept her Conceal ready, but Julian had told her to save her stamina. They didn't need stealth anymore. They needed speed.
