The air inside the vault-room was cold enough to frost the edges of human endurance, smelling faintly of ozone, old copper, and the sharp, metallic tang of fear.
Julian stood motionless by the fractured control terminal, his breath pluming in grey ghosts against the dim amber emergency lights. His fingers, smeared with grease and dried blood from the climb through the ventilation shafts, hovered over the manual override lever. Every fiber of his training screamed at him to stop, to wait for the reinforcement team that was never going to arrive. But waiting was a luxury reserved for people who didn't have a countdown timer blinking a merciless red reflection in their retinas.
Twelve minutes.
Twelve minutes before the automated purge cycle flooded this subterranean sector with halogenated
