My lips curl into a sneer, even though he can’t see it. “Bossy.” But I step forward, trying not to let my apprehension show.
His hands don’t leave my waist. I let him be.
The tunnel stretches forever. Blue lights pulse along the floor like something out of “Resident Evil.” My bare feet slap againststeel grating—because apparently, carpet is too mainstream for secret mob tunnels.
“How deep does this go?” My voice bounces off metal walls.
“Worried?”
“About being trapped underground with you? Yes.”
Another thirty steps. Fifty. A hundred. The tech shop might as well be in another zip code.
“Wait.” Leonid’s arm shoots out, blocking my path. A red laser grid sweeps across the floor ahead of us. Because of course it does.
“Seriously?”
“Security measures.”
“No shit.”
The grid disappears. A section of wall slides open—I’m starting to sense a theme here. Behind it is a glass chamber big enough for maybe three people.
“Ladies first?” Leonid’s got that smirk again.
“After you, princess.”
He steps in. I follow, trying not to think about all the ways this could go wrong. The chamber seals with a hiss.
“Identification required,” a robotic voice fills the space. Blue light scans us from head to toe.
“You guys really committed to the whole evil lair aesthetic, huh?”
“Says the woman who just spent ten grand on shoes.”
“Nine and a half. And at least I can walk in them.”
The chamber descends. My stomach lurches—we’re moving fast. The walls around us turn transparent, revealing…
“Holy fuck.”
We’re dropping through the center of what looks like a massive silo. Except, instead of missiles, there’s floor after floor of medical tech that probably costs more than the GDP of several small countries. Operating rooms with robots. Labs fullof equipment I can’t even name. People in hazmat suits moving between steel tables.
“This is how you’re hiding from the feds? An underground hospital?”
“Among other things.”
The chamber slows. Through the glass, I can see a long corridor lined with doors. Each one’s got a keypad, a retinal scanner, and probably a blood sample requirement.
“I’m starting to think you guys have trust issues.”
Leonid’s hand lands on my back as the chamber doors open. “You’re one to talk.”
A doctor in scrubs hurries past, tablet in hand. His footsteps echo off steel walls. Everything smells like antiseptic and money.
“This way.” Leonid steers me left. “Try not to touch anything.”
“Why? Afraid I’ll steal your secret formulas?”
