And Ronan Pierce?
He’s going to feel this moment like a pull on a wire.
“Move,” I tell her.
We slip through the door just as alarms begin to wake.
And for the first time since they took me—
I’m not waiting anymore.
57
Jonah
Location: Subterranean Rail Tunnels — Below Staging Node
Time:Unknown
The tunnel breathes around us.
That’s the first thing I notice once we’re moving—the way the air shifts, pushes, pulls, like the place itself is alive and irritated by our presence.
I take the left corridor without slowing.
No signage. No markings. Which means it’s not meant for people.
Perfect.
“Stay close,” I whisper, not turning back. “Step where I step.”
She nods once and does exactly that.
Good.
The alarms haven’t reached full volume yet—just a low, escalating pulse reverberating through the metal ribs of the tunnel. A warning system that hasn’t decided what kind of emergency it’s dealing with.
They still think this iscontainable.
The floor slopes downward, rail ballast crunching softlybeneath our shoes. Old tracks run half-buried beneath dust and rust, the steel worn smooth by decades of forgotten movement.
I count intersections.
One.
Two.
At the third, I slow just enough to listen.
Shouting echoes from behind us now—angry, sharp, overlapping. Orders being thrown without context.
They don’t know where we are.
Not yet.
I veer right.
The tunnel narrows, ceiling dropping low enough that I have to hunch. Pipes run along the wall—cold, sweating condensation.
