NICO’S POV
Everywhere was quiet.
Too quiet.
Night had swallowed Dario’s experimental base in a pitch-black cloak, save for the artificial glow of green LEDs and the low, unsettling hum of machines working overtime on sins no one would ever admit to.
I moved through the corridor, one foot after the other. The overhead lights buzzed softly. Cameras blinked red in the corners of the ceiling, always watching, always hungry to detect.
But I didn’t flinch.
My expression was calm, unreadable, like I was just another ghost haunting the hallway.
My fingers were cold, shoved beneath my jacket like I was protecting myself from the chill of the vents. But that wasn’t it. No. I was gripping the first batch of evidence Cassandra had smuggled into my hands earlier that night.
It was warm still.
