UNDER THE DON’S PROTECTION
The mist had grown so thick it tasted metallic on my tongue, euphoria edging in at the corners of my vision, making every heartbeat feel slow and syrupy.
Dante led, Glock sweeping the black. Rocco brought up the rear, one hand fisted in the back of my shirt, keeping me between them like I was the prize they’d already won and refused to lose. Ten hours, thirty-one minutes until the hub turned itself and us into slag.
“Stairs end at sub-level one,” Dante muttered. “Service tunnel to the surface. If Enzo’s code is real, we can hit the override node from there.”
“If,” Rocco echoed, voice tight. “I still want to put a bullet through that hologram’s smug face.”
Sikat na Kabanata