Page 167 of Fractured Loyalties

Suddenly, the tunnel opens into a wider chamber, dimly lit by flickering emergency lights. Elias pauses, scanning quickly, assessing our next move. The walls around us are lined with storage crates, stacked high, offering cover and concealment. He gestures silently for us to move deeper into the room, taking shelter behind one of the stacks.

“We need a clear exit,” Kinley whispers harshly.

Elias pulls out a device, rapidly navigating a digital map displayed on its screen. His jaw tightens. “There's a direct exit corridor just ahead, but it’s heavily patrolled. If we time it right, we can slip through. Otherwise—” He pauses, not needing to finish.

Otherwise, we're trapped.

I glance at Elias, seeing the weight of responsibility pressing upon him. He meets my eyes, determination shining clearly, unwavering.

“We'll make it,” he promises quietly, firmly. “Stay sharp. Stay close.”

His assurance steadies my trembling nerves. I nod, steeling myself for whatever lies ahead.

“Ready?” Elias asks, glancing between Kinley and me.

We nod in unison.

“Go,” Elias commands, voice steady and calm.

Together, we move toward the corridor ahead, hearts pounding, shadows enveloping us as we step once more into the unknown.

Chapter 28 – Elias – Killbox

"Go," I command, low and final.

The word shreds the last thin veil of hesitation clinging to any of us. I push forward, shoulder brushing the edge of the crate, and the corridor beyond swells into a narrow artery of metal and flickering light. Footsteps hammer behind me: Kinley, quick and calculated. Mara, lighter, less certain. I don’t look back. If I do, I will slow down. And if I slow down, we die.

The corridor veers hard left, and I press my back to the wall just as the distant echo of boots multiplies ahead. No eyes on us yet. I gesture once. Kinley takes the corner with his weapon raised. He leans and fires. A man screams. I count two seconds, then dive forward.

The first guard is still upright, staggering. I grab his collar, yank him into the wall, and crush his windpipe with a brutal blow with my elbow. His body folds with a pathetic groan. I don’t stop.

The second one, too slow to raise his gun, catches the heel of my boot in his jaw. He drops. I drag him by the vest, throw him into the doorway, and wedge the edge of a nearby crate into the access panel. A makeshift barricade. It won't hold long.

Mara reaches me, breath ragged, cheeks flushed with panic. I see the whites of her eyes. Not fear. Calculation. She’s adapting faster than she realizes.

"They’re sweeping in from both sides," Kinley reports, tapping his wristpad. "We have maybe ninety seconds before we’re pinched."

I nod once, grab Mara’s arm, not gently, and pull her down the branching corridor.

"Trust me?"

She exhales like a blade pulled from a sheath. "I already do."

We run.

Metal flooring rattles beneath us, each footfall too loud, each breath an audible flare in the silence. Overhead, the facility hums like something alive and hostile, its belly twisting around us. This isn't just architecture. It's a maze designed to manipulate panic.

I chose the purge facility for its size, its brutality, and its symbolic weight. But now it knows we’re inside, and Volker is smiling somewhere, watching.

We reach the junction. Kinley slaps a code into the wall. The door doesn't open.

"It’s locked out," he hisses. "Manual override only. We need to cut the seal."

"Cover us," I say. He peels back, weapon raised.

I drop to my knees, pry open the panel, and start slicing wires. Mara crouches beside me, silent, holding a flashlight steady with trembling fingers.

"What happens if you cut the wrong one?" she asks softly.