The warning does not turn into chaos right away, and that is what makes it unbearable, because the sound that fractured the calm fades without consequence, leaving the packhouse suspended in a tense quiet that feels more deliberate than before. Adam is already on his feet, scanning the room with a predator’s stillness, listening for what comes next while the bond hums sharp and watchful beneath my ribs.
“It stopped,” I say quietly.
“For now,” he replies.
We do not rush into the corridor or start issuing orders, because whatever that sound was, it wanted attention, and neither of us is willing to give it cheaply. Adam checks the door once more, slower this time, deliberate, and then turns back to me, his gaze assessing in a way that has nothing to do with strategy and everything to do wi
