Chapter 7 - The Sinking Corridor
The tunnel erupted into absolute, chaotic violence.
The first bullet caught Kane’s flashlight square on, shattering the heavy glass and plunging us back into a dim, smoky twilight illuminated only by the faint red emergency bulbs. Kane shrieked, stumbling backward into his men as lead slammed into the concrete wall right beside our heads, sending a shower of sharp stone fragments flying into our faces.
“Run!” Sebastian shouted, grabbing my hand with a grip like iron.
We sprinted down the remaining length of the maintenance tunnel, our boots splashing through puddles of stagnant water. Behind us, heavy boots pounded against the concrete as Kane and his surviving operatives recovered from the ambush, their suppressed weapons spitting a rapid stream of fire that hissed past our ears.
“I can’t—I can’t breathe!” I gasped, my lungs burning from the acrid smell of cordite and damp earth.
“Don’t look back, Valerie! Keep moving!” Sebastian urged, yanking me around a sharp ninety-degree corner just as a bullet ricocheted off the pipes directly above us, hissing like an angry snake.
The end of the tunnel loomed ahead—a heavy rusted iron gate that opened out into the cavernous, salt-scented air of the harbor piers. But as we sprinted toward it, I saw a secondary threat materialize out of the shadows.
Two more operatives were sliding down a maintenance ladder right beside the exit gate, cutting off our path to Slip 12.
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Sebastian didn't break stride. He shoved me behind a thick concrete support pillar, brought his pistol up with both hands, and squeezed the trigger with cold, lethal precision.
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