The tunnel widened into a chamber; walls streaked with mineral veins that glimmered faintly under the dying light of the overhead bulbs. The air carried a damp heaviness, metallic and sour, clinging to my lungs with every breath. Shadows stretched unnaturally across the ground, bending in ways they shouldn't.
Drip… drip… drip.
A figure stepped out from the far end, slow, deliberate, as if they knew exactly how much time to take. My chest tightened. Recognition hit hard and fast a face I thought I'd buried with the last collapse, someone I shouldn't have been able to see again.
"Dylan," they said, voice calm, too calm. "You've been walking in circles. You'll never find your way without me."
I let out a dry laugh, masking the spike of unease in my chest. "Funny. You don't look much like Google Maps."
They smirked, but the expression didn't quite reach their eyes. They stepped closer, boots pressing against shallow puddles, ripples spreading in careful patterns. Every movement looked rehearsed, like they'd practiced this reunion in front of a mirror.
Step. Splash. Step. Splash.
Their story spilled out: tales of how they escaped, how they'd been watching from the shadows, how they knew Elliot's path. Each word was polished, smooth, too polished for the grit of these tunnels.
I kept nodding, kept my sarcasm sharp enough to cut glass. "So let me guess you just happened to have the answers I'm looking for? What are the odds."
Click.
Metal against metal faint, quick. A knife hilt? A lighter? Nervous habit, or nervous truth.
That was my first crack in their mask. The second came when I slipped a false name into my story a contact that didn't exist. Their face twitched, just for a second, recognition flashing where none should have been.
Got you.
I didn't show it. My grin stayed steady, words easy. Inside, my thoughts tightened like a noose. They weren't an ally. They were tether to someone else.
Silence.
Too sharp, too deliberate, like the air itself had decided to hold its breath.
They gestured deeper into the Veins. "This way. The Syndicate doesn't wait forever."
I followed, boots echoing against the stone. Outwardly calm. Inwardly seething. Every instinct screamed trap, but I walked anyway, sarcasm my shield.
"If betrayal had a scent," I muttered under my breath, "it reeked of damp stone and desperation."
Drip… drag… drip… drag.
The sound followed us down the hall, too heavy to be just water.