The silence in the bunker was heavy, pressing against my eardrums. It was the kind of silence that usually comes before a storm—or a funeral. The only sound was the rhythmic whirrr-click of the air filtration system and the frantic tapping of Marcus’s fingers on his keyboard.
I leaned against the cold stainless-steel counter, staring at the floor. My hands were still trembling slightly. Not from cold, but from the adrenaline crash. An hour ago, I was looking at a radio that threatened hemlock gas. Now, I was staring at a coffee maker.
Then, a sound shattered the quiet.
GRRROOOOWL.
It wasn't a normal stomach rumble. It was deep, guttural, and loud enough to vibrate the metal countertop. It sounded like a tectonic plate shifting deep underground.
I froze, my hand hovering over a kn
