The metal whispered under our weight. Groans and sighs echoed through the ventilation shaft as we crawled, inch by inch, into the dark. Alexis led the way, her breathing steady, posture tight. Every so often, she'd glance back to make sure I was still with her.
I was. Physically.
But my mind hadn't left the encounter with 3830.
Her stillness. Her certainty.
That smile.
The mission that waited in her voice like a blade.
She hadn't flinched when we mentioned 3829.
She'd already decided how this would end.
And I was starting to believe her.
Alexis paused ahead, resting her palm against a bolted seam. I caught up, exhaling quietly. My arms ached. My shoulder throbbed from the earlier collision. The vent was narrowing.
"This next bend opens near one of the west wing chambers," she whispered. "I heard they used to store wounded there."
"Used to?"
