He placed the charges at strategic points around the vault door’s hinges, working quickly but methodically. Each charge was small enough to focus the blast inward, toward the hinges themselves, minimizing collateral damage. At least, that was the theory.
Seven minutes left.
He backed up to the minimum safe distance, crouched low, and triggered the detonator.
The explosion was more muffled than he expected—a sharp crack followed by a deep, resonant thump that he felt more than heard. Dust billowed out from the vault door as it sagged inward, hinges sheared clean through, the locking mechanism still intact but now irrelevant.
Dom didn’t wait for the dust to settle. He rushed forward and shouldered the heavy door, pushing it inward. It gave with a groan of protesting metal, scraping across the concrete floor as it swung open.
The vault was small. Much smaller than he expected. And nearly empty.
No shelves lined with research notes. No computers. No equipment. Just a single titanium case sitting on a pedestal in the center of the room, like an artifact in a museum.
Dom approached it cautiously. The case was matte black, about the size of a briefcase but thicker, with a digital lock on its front panel. A printed label was affixed to the top: “H. Strauss - Lazarus Protocol - Neural Mapping Alpha.”
This was it. This was what Praetorian wanted. What they’d kidnapped him and Vivi for. What they were threatening to kill Sabin over.
He grabbed the case. It was surprisingly light for something so potentially world-changing. Whatever the Lazarus Protocol was, it didn’t weigh much.
Five minutes left.
Dom tucked the case under his arm and turned to leave, then froze as a low, groaning sound echoed through the vault level. At first, he thought it was just settling dust from the explosion, but then it came again—longer, deeper, the unmistakable sound of stressed concrete under pressure.
Shit. The charges must have done more damage than he anticipated. The schematics had shown old cisterns behind thevault walls, part of the original water system built into the cliff. If the explosion had compromised those...
He didn’t wait to find out. Dom ran for the elevator, the titanium case clutched against his chest. The groaning grew louder, punctuated now by sharp cracks that sent spiderwebs of fractures racing across the ceiling.
Three minutes left before Vivi’s distraction would end. Three minutes to get back to the upper levels before Stavros returned to the security center and saw what was happening down here.
The elevator doors were still open, waiting. Dom lunged inside and jabbed the button for the main level. Nothing happened. He tried again, pressing harder. Nothing.
A computerized voice came over the speakers, calm and eerily pleasant in multiple languages: “Security lockdown initiated. Structural integrity compromised. All vault level personnel proceed to emergency exits.”
Double fuck.
The system had detected the damage and automatically locked down the sublevels to protect the upper facility. Standard protocol for high-end secure storage. It meant Dom was now trapped on the lowest level of a facility that was actively falling apart.
The groaning intensified. A chunk of concrete fell from the ceiling, smashing into the floor just feet from where he stood. And then came the sound he’d been dreading—the rushing roar of water.
The cisterns had cracked open.
Water began pouring in through the fractures in the walls, first in steady streams, then in gushing torrents that quickly covered the floor. The temperature dropped as the cold water rose around his ankles, then his calves.
Dom backed away from the flow, looking frantically for another exit. The emergency stairs. There had to be emergencystairs. Every secure facility had them—required by building codes even in places as ethically flexible as Villa Pandora.
There—at the far end of the corridor, a red exit sign glowed above a heavy fire door. Dom splashed toward it, the water now knee-deep and rising fast. He reached the door and pushed the panic bar.
Locked.
Because of course it was. The same security lockdown that disabled the elevator would seal all exits. Standard procedure. Contain the damage. Protect the facility. Even if it meant sacrificing anyone trapped below.
The water reached his thighs now, bitingly cold and still rising. Dom raised the titanium case above his head, keeping it dry as he waded back toward the elevator. There had to be a way out. Some override he could trigger. Some emergency protocol he could exploit.
His watch chirped—Vivi’s signal. Her distraction was over. Stavros would be heading back to the security center. In minutes, he’d see the damage. See the water. See Dom trapped like a rat.
The water continued to rise, now at his waist. Dom lifted the case higher, scanning the ceiling for access panels, ventilation ducts, anything that might offer an escape route. The groaning of the structure had become a constant background noise, punctuated by sharp cracks as more stress fractures formed in the walls.
The complex was built into a cliff. If enough of the support structure failed, the entire wing could collapse and slide into the sea below. With him inside it.
