“She was here,” I muttered. “She was right here.”
Devil stepped in beside me, his shadow falling over the marks. “Chain.”
“This isn’t old,” I said, anger grindin’ the words down rough. “This isn’t some ritual leftovers or mess they forgot about. This is fresh. She was hurt here.”
He studied the floor a long second, then nodded once. “Split up. Check every tunnel again. Then we fan out through the woods.”
The men moved fast. Boots poundin’. Voices clipped and tight as they disappeared into the branching corridors. I took the nearest tunnel without thinkin’, heart slammin’ so hard it felt like it might crack my ribs loose.
Every step echoed too damn loud.
My light swept walls and corners, doorways and recesses. Anywhere she could’ve been dragged. Anywhere she could’ve fought. Every scrape in the concrete twisted my gut tighter. Every shadow threatened to hold somethin’ I didn’t wanna see.
Nothin’.
The tunnels split and rejoined like veins, but they were empty. Too empty. Whatever happened here was already done.
This place wasn’t the end.
There had to be more.
When I made it back to the main chamber, my breath was comin’ hard, rage crawlin’ up my spine like fire under skin.
“She’s not here,” I snapped. “They moved her.”
Thunder swore viciously. Mystic dragged a hand down his face. Devil didn’t say a word, but I saw it in the way his shoulders locked.
We pushed out into the woods next, spreadin’ wide, flashlights cuttin’ through trees and brush. The night pressed in thick and damp, heavy with rot and wet earth. The kind of dark that felt alive, like it knew we didn’t belong there.
I didn’t wait for orders.
My instincts were hummin’. Loud. Insistent.
I didn’t know why I turned when I did.
There was no sound. No snap of a branch. Just that sudden awareness, hard and cold, like fingers slid slow down the back of my neck. The kind of feelin’ that told you, deep in your bones, that you weren’t alone.
I stopped.
Slow, I swung my light toward the treeline.
At first, there was nothin’. Just shadows stacked on shadows. Trunks standin’ like sentries. Brush thick enough to swallow the beam whole. My pulse slowed, logic reachin’ for ground. Stress. Adrenaline. Fear makin’ ghosts outta nothin’.
Then the light caught somethin’.
Not solid.
Not right.
A shape stood between the trees, pale against the dark, barely there. Not standin’ so much as occupyin’ space. My brain stuttered over it, tried to give it edges. Weight. Reason.
A woman. Or the idea of one.
She didn’t breathe. Didn’t sway. Didn’t flinch under the beam. For a heartbeat, I told myself it was fog or moonlight playin’ tricks. Then she moved. Slow. Careful. Like she knew she was bein’ watched.
My breath locked in my chest.
She lifted her arm. Not frantic. Not warnin’. Just a small, deliberate motion. Palm turnin’ toward me like she was askin’ a question I already knew the answer to.
