The chanting outside drummed against the walls like a heartbeat growing too fast. I stepped back from the curtain and leaned on the doorframe, watching Elliot and Anika exchange looks of quiet panic. Her blindfold made her unreadable, but her body was tense, her shoulders pulled up as if preparing for a blow.
I needed to think.
Quickly.
This wasn't the usual Syndicate hate mob with tweets and paranoia. This was something more organized. The posters, the propaganda—whoever funded those didn't just want us gone. They wanted us hunted.
I let my thoughts swirl through possible routes, safehouses, disguises, diversions—
A knock interrupted them.
Sharp. Polite, but with the weight of purpose.
"Hold that pose—don't ruin the tension," I said, already heading for the bathroom. I paused beside Anika. "Blindfold off, Miss Lindsey. It's curtain-up time."
