The red line on the tunnel wall snaked deeper into the underground like a pulsing vein, barely visible beneath the flickering emergency lights. The air was sweltering now—thick, moist, and rank with the stench of rust, mildew, and decay. Each step echoed ominously, the sound bouncing back like a warning. Distant skittering and guttural growls reminded them they were not alone.
Winter's grip around Zara tightened as she stumbled again.
"Easy," he whispered, shifting Leo's weight on one arm and wrapping the other around Zara's waist. "We'll stop soon. Just a little further."
Zara didn't answer. Her breath came in ragged bursts, and blood soaked through the bandage wrapped around her side, dripping between her fingers. The makeshift gauze had long since failed. Pain throbbed at her temple, a punishing rhythm in sync with her heartbeat—a side effect of using her foresight too many times.
