The trek back into the subterranean levels was fast and silent. The raw panic that had dragged me out to the track was gone, replaced by a cold, calculating focus. Beside me, Drakon moved like a shadow—heavy, lethal, and completely intent on tearing apart whatever threatened to pull me backward.
We found Bastian standing right outside Michael’s command station, leaning against the concrete wall with his arms crossed over his chest. His posture was deceptively relaxed, but the sharp, scanning motion of his eyes told me he was already running security angles in his head.
The moment we rounded the corridor, Bastian’s eyes locked onto me, taking in my sweat-damp shirt, my steady stance, and the total lack of panic left in my expression. He let out a low, barely audible breath of relief, step
