Page 52 of Undercover Shadow
We filed out of the chamber. Behind us, the steel door sealed shut with another hydraulic hiss, hiding its secrets once more.
But we’d found them. Whoever had been using this space would soon discover they were no longer working in the shadows.
The ascent took longer than the descent. The hours spent underground had drained us, each step upward feeling heavier than the last. Nightingale’s breathing remained even ahead of me, her torch beam cutting through the darkness with unwavering focus.
My mind raced through what we’d found. The climate-controlled chamber. The chalk grid. The evidence of use within the last few weeks. Labyrinth wasn’t just continuing—it was thriving, using my own estate as part of their distribution network.
We emerged into the undercroft an hour later. The late-afternoon sun filtered through the high windows, making me blink after the darkness below. The shift from the underground chill to the castle’s warmth made my skin prickle.
Douglas appeared at the top of the stairs, his expression sharpening when he saw our faces.
“Find anything?”
“Get Mrs. Murray to prepare food,” I said, my voice rough from hours of breathing stale air. “We need to brief Typhon within the hour.”
Douglas nodded and disappeared toward the kitchen.
“We’ll take a short break, during which time I’ll request a conference.”
“Thirty minutes?” Nightingale asked, already moving toward the doorway, with Vanguard close on her heels.
“Affirmative. We’ll meet in the study.”
She nodded and left.
I gave her enough time to retreat upstairs, then went to my suite to shower, hoping it would help clear my head if not my thoughts. I stood under the hot water longer than necessary, washing away the underground grime while my mind churned through what we’d discovered. Someone had been in the tunnels recently, which meant they might come back.
Once I returned downstairs, I rang Typhon. He answered on the second ring.
“Obsidian.”
“Requesting a full-team conference within the hour. We found active operations beneath Glenshadow. There’s evidence of use within the last few weeks.”
“I’ll contact the other teams. We’ll convene in thirty minutes.”
“Copy that,” I said, ending the call when Nightingale walked in. Her hair was still damp, pulled back in a sleek knot that emphasized her neck. She’d changed into dark trousers and a fitted burgundy jumper like she often wore.
I looked away before she caught me staring.
“Coffee?” I gestured to the pot Mrs. Murray had brought in, remembering it was what she chose yesterday.
“Please.”
I poured a cup, added sugar, and handed it across the desk. Our fingers didn’t touch, though I was acutely aware of how close they came.
“I’ve confirmed a team videoconference,” I said.
“I overheard,” she said. “In the meantime, I’ll cross-reference what we found with the intelligence from Syria.”
Neither of us spoke for several minutes. The silence between us wasn’t comfortable, but it was bearable—two operatives preparing for a briefing, nothing more.
Except it was so much more than that, and we both knew it.
Her teeth caught her lower lip as she concentrated, and the furrow between her brows deepened as she worked. She looked up, and this time, she caught me staring.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing.” I cleared my throat. “Just…you’re good at this. Your job. Exceptionally so.”
