I didn't stop walking.
The halls ahead forked and narrowed, low ceilings, flickering lights, boot-tracked grime streaking every panel. The place reeked of rushed violence. I kept going, one breath at a time. No signs. No markers. Just blood behind me, silence ahead.
My body still lagged. Every step landed harder than I wanted. I felt it — the strain beneath the bones, the slow recoil of something overdrawn. I could still fight. But I was burning time.
And Barit wasn't stupid. He wouldn't leave the others unguarded.
I turned the next corner.
And stopped.
Voices. From above.
Jolyn's voice first. Sharp. Clipped. "Barit managed to escape. He's in the lower levels."
Another presence followed, quieter, not a voice but a pressure. Familiar. The veiled one. I didn't need to see him to know he was near.
They'd be here any second.
