Roselle crouched near one of the bodies, checking the armor seams. "No burn marks. No blade trauma. No ballistic entry."
Steve grimaced. "Don't say it."
"Neurological shutdown," Cain said. "Triggered remotely. Or passively."
Hunter frowned. "You're saying the building killed them?"
"I'm saying the system beneath it did," Cain replied. "They tripped a condition."
As if in response, a low hum rippled through the atrium. The fires along the walls bent inward, flames stretching unnaturally toward the center of the room before snapping back into place.
Susan straightened. "We're being measured."
"Catalogued," Steve corrected. "It's running comparisons."
Cain's jaw tightened. The sensation from below—the pressure, the awareness—was stronger here. Less restrained. Whatever had been bound hadn't just been waiting. It had been watching.
