Amelia
Mapping echo paths was supposed to be technical. Cold. Purely mathematical. It was about controlling space through sound, identifying how footsteps bounced off the concrete, how voices curved through narrow corridors, how to make an enemy hear what you wanted and miss what you didn’t. We were laying the trap through timing and precision, not physical barriers or brute force. But I could feel them.
Every hallway, every choke point, every place where a sound would bounce. I didn’t even have to guess anymore. I dropped chalk marks in perfect arcs through the warehouse tunnels, and they landed exactly where I needed them to. I could hear the trap before we even set it.
“You were a little off at the northwest turn,” Nathan muttered behind me.
“No, I wasn’t.” I pointed two steps ahead
