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We take the path no one is supposed to know exists.
A narrow access corridor behind the data stacks.
Unmarked.
Unlogged.
Forgotten.
Except by the people who built it.
We hit the stairwell at speed.
Boots pounding metal.
Breath tight.
Controlled.
Halfway down—
the lights die.
Total darkness.
Not a flicker.
Not a failure.
A kill.
And then—
gunfire.
Sharp.
Measured.
Disciplined bursts.
Not panic fire.
Not spray.
Professional.
Close.
Too close.
“They’re inside,” Aaron says.
Not surprised.
Not shocked.
Just confirming what we already know.
