The corridor narrowed, walls slick with condensation, the dim light from overhead bulbs flickering across jagged edges of stone. Shadows pooled in the corners, bending at angles that shouldn't exist, twisting the familiar into something threatening.
Drip… drip…
I stepped carefully, boots pressing against shallow puddles, mapping each shadow with instinct honed over too many close calls. The ledger weighed heavy in my bag, its codes rattling in my head, but my focus sharpened on the corridor itself. Something was wrong.
A sudden scuff of boots echoed off the stone. I froze, heart tightening. Then another a chorus of soft, deliberate movements surrounding me.
From the darkness, they emerged. Masked faces, knives glinting under the dim light. One lunged.
Metal clanged as I parried with the edge of my own blade, reflexes screaming over reason. Another came from the side, fast, precise. I twisted, narrowly avoiding a slash across my ribs.
I counted three, maybe four. Outnumbered, cornered, and already tasting the metallic tang of panic in my mouth.
Then she appeared. Kara. Moving through the shadows like she had rehearsed it a hundred times. A knife spun from her hand, slicing through the air and knocking one of the attackers aside. He collapsed with a grunt, and for a second, it looked like luck but her aim was too perfect.
I barely had time to register relief before doubt slithered in. The others froze, then disappeared into the dark corners as quickly as they had come. Kara's smile was calm, too calm, and her eyes flicked to mine like she was measuring my reaction.
Step… splash… step.
"Thought you could use a hand," she said lightly, brushing imaginary dust from her sleeve.
I forced a nod, chest heaving. Gratitude? Perhaps. Suspicion? Definitely. The timing was suspiciously impeccable. Too clean. Too convenient.
I flexed my fingers, feeling the heat from a shallow cut along my arm. My mind ticked through possibilities. Was it an ambush staged to test me? Or had someone wanted to see how I handled a close call?
Kara stepped closer, her movements measured, as if aware of every thought running across my mind. "You okay?" she asked, voice casual.
I let a smirk slip past the tension. "Peachy. Nothing like a little knife play to brighten the day."
Her gaze lingered a beat too long, and I filed it away as another piece of the puzzle. Trust her? Maybe. Watch her? Definitely.
We moved on, side by side, the corridor swallowing our footsteps. My mind churned with the ledger, the Syndicate, and the ambush. Every instinct screamed caution, every nerve ready to snap but the game had changed, and I was still standing.