Page 106 of Doomed
The service entrance door looms before us—metal, reinforced, with an electronic keypad and a traditional deadbolt.Landon kneels, pulling out his specialized tools. I scan our surroundings, pistol ready, every muscle coiled with tension.
“Two minutes until the next patrol,” Xavier whispers.
Landon works to crack the lock, but his usual calm seems fractured. His fingers slip once, twice. Sweat beads on his forehead.
“Problem?” I hiss.
“Custom lock. Orlov upgraded.” He adjusts his approach, inserts a different tool. “Need another minute.”
“We don’t have another minute,” Vane growls, checking his watch.
I feel exposed, standing in the half-shadow. Each second stretches impossibly long. My heart pounds so loudly I wonder if the guards can hear it. I picture Bianca in that monster’s hands and nearly crush the grip of my pistol.
“Got it,” Landon finally whispers. The deadbolt slides back with a barely audible click.
I exhale, not realizing I’d been holding my breath. Landon moves to the keypad, connecting a small device that runs algorithms against the worn buttons.
“Footsteps,” Xavier warns, tilting his head. “Coming this way.”
Landon’s device flashes green. He punches in the code. The door’s magnetic lock disengages with a soft thunk.
We slip inside just as a flashlight beam sweeps around the corner. I pull the door closed silently behind us, darkness enveloping us like a shroud.
We stand perfectly still, letting our eyes adjust. The narrow service corridor stretches ahead, dimly lit by emergency lights. Somewhere in the building, Bianca waits.
“Comms check,” Xavier breathes. We each confirm with the slightest nod.
“Landon, what’s our path?” I whisper.
He hesitates. “Blueprints show the main layout, but interior security isn’t mapped. We’re effectively blind from here.”
“How many guards?” Vane asks.
“Unknown. Could be ten, could be thirty.”
I check my watch. The planned diversion starts in four minutes—not enough time to scout properly. We need to move, but one wrong step could alert the entire compound.
“We stick to shadows,” I decide, the blue mask suddenly feeling too tight against my face. “Single file. Slow and silent.”
We creep through the service corridor, my every sense heightened. The familiar weight of my knife feels like an extension of my arm as we approach a junction.
A guard appears without warning, scrolling through his phone. I react without thought, lunging forward in a blur of movement. My hand clamps over his mouth while I drive my knife up under his ribcage, angling toward the heart. He stiffens, eyes wide with shock as I twist the blade. Blood coats my hand, warm and slick, but I feel nothing except cold purpose.
I lower the guard silently, wiping my blade on his uniform. Landon nods approvingly, but I’m already moving forward. Every second counts. Every breath Bianca takes in this house is one too many.
We reach the main staircase, an ornate and winding one that leads to the upper floors. Xavier motions to the base, pointing to himself and Vane.
“We’ll hold position here,” he whispers. “Clear the upstairs. Find her.”
Vane’s green mask tilts in agreement. “Five minutes before we start the diversion. Make it count.”
I lock eyes with Xavier, a silent exchange passing between us. For all our differences, in this moment, we’re perfectly aligned. His slight nod conveys everything: Find her. Protect her. Make them pay.
“Landon, with me,” I murmur, already taking the stairs two at a time, staying close to the wall where the wood is less likely to creak.
Landon follows, his movements fluid and silent. At the top landing, he checks his tablet one last time.
“Six rooms,” he breathes. “I’ll cover your back.”
