The Veins narrowed into a throat of concrete, the air heavier, damp clinging to my skin like a second shirt. Each step echoed back sharper, quicker, like the tunnels were trying to warn me but couldn't decide how loud.
Jonas led, of course. Always leading, always smiling like the world bent conveniently around him. His footsteps landed too evenly, too smooth for a place this jagged. Practiced. Choreographed.
Then another sound. Not his. Not mine. A third. Barely there, hidden in the drip-drip rhythm. Softer. Slower. Following.
I stopped. Jonas didn't. Not at first. But when he finally turned, his face carried that polished concern, that calculated calm.
"What is it?" he asked, voice soft enough to soothe a riot.
I tilted my head, listening again. There it was. The faint shuffle of someone who thought they were smarter than me. "We're not alone."
Jonas gave a little shrug, like I'd just pointed out the weather. "Relax, Dylan. Paranoia's not a good look on you."
I smirked, the edge cutting through. "Neither is being stabbed in the back, but hey some people pull it off."
His smile lingered, unshaken. Too unshaken. Like he already knew who was behind us. Like this wasn't surprise it was schedule.
The shuffle grew closer. Then a shadow peeled from the wall, a detective's coat brushing the grime. His badge glinted once in the dim light, just enough to prove authority, not enough to prove trust.
"You shouldn't be here," the detective's voice rasped, heavy as the tunnels themselves. "Both of you. The deeper you go, the less the city forgives."
Jonas feigned innocence with a glance in my direction. "See? Just a friendly warning."
I caught the lie in his tone, the way his smile curled at the edges. Warnings don't just happen here. Not in the Veins. They're planted. Delivered. Played like cards at a table.
The detective's eyes flicked to me, sharper now. "Watch who you follow."
I gave him the same smirk I gave Jonas. "Don't worry. Watching is the only thing I do."
The pipes groaned above us, metal straining, dripping. The city was listening. The detective faded back into the dark, like he'd never been real at all.
Jonas stepped closer, grin polished, voice low. "See? Nothing to worry about."
I let the sarcasm slip like a knife between us. "Perfect. A stranger in a trench coat tells me I'm screwed, and you tell me to relax. Comforting. Really."
The Veins hummed, the warning still vibrating in the walls. And I decided message received.