The hallway felt too clean.
Not the kind of clean that came from soap or bleach, but this clean had edges… and teeth. The lights overhead hummed in a high pitch sound that was starting to get on Sera's nerves. Even the air tasted like metal and filtered air and something pressed tight until it forgot what dirt was.
Sera followed the soldiers because they expected her to, and because she wanted to see where all this was going. Luci had been taken through a side door—his cage smelled like cold steel and old fear—but he hadn't fought.
He had looked back once, ears low, and she had tapped her fingers twice against her thigh. A promise. He understood.
The guards flanking her walked stiffly, rifles angled down but ready.
They smelled nervous.
Maybe not outwardly, but under the armor, under the filtration masks, their bodies leaked small things—salt, stress, readiness. Things the creature inside her catalogued with lazy interest.
