The maintenance shaft smelled of ozone, stale recycled air, and the sharp, metallic tang of Dante’s blood. Every vibration of the heavy deck plates above sent a fresh spike of adrenaline through Elara’s exhausted system. Vanguard Operations was hunting them. She could hear the muffled, synchronized thud of their tactical boots and the low, sweeping hum of thermal scanners sweeping the primary corridors just meters away.In the suffocating darkness, Dante’s breathing was a shallow, ragged metronome. Elara knelt beside him on the cold grating, her hands slick with the pale blue regenerative fluid and his blood. She had torn the sleeves from her undershirt, using her teeth to rip the fabric into makeshift pressure bandages. With agonizing care, she pressed the cloth against the worst of the puncture wounds on his scalp where the bio-synthetic shunts had been violently ripped away.Dante hissed, his body arching off the floor in a rigid spasm of pain. In the pitch black of the tunnel, Ela
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