The echo of Grayson's mocking laughter still reverberated in Scarlett's ears as she pressed her back against the cold concrete wall of the dimly lit hallway. Every shadow seemed alive; every sound amplified in the oppressive silence that followed. Nathan's hand was firm on her shoulder, his voice a low whisper.
"We move fast, stay close, and don't engage unless we have no other choice."
Scarlett nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. Beside her, Elias scanned the room with his weapon raised, his sharp eyes darting between the exits. Serena flanked the rear, her expression grim as she gripped her knife tightly.
"We don't have time for this," Lang muttered, glancing at the monitors that had gone dark minutes ago.
"Grayson's expecting us to hesitate. That's his play—always one step ahead." He said.
Scarlett's heart clenched as she remembered the image of her father, defiant yet vulnerable in Grayson's grasp.
