The guards' heads snapped toward the stairwell. Their radios crackled to life with panicked voices.
"—contact on the first floor—"
"—man in white—multiple hostiles—"
"—need backup NOW—"
Inside Room 608, Monti's phone screen lit up with the camera feeds. His blood went cold.
Several white vans were parked outside the main entrance. Tactical teams pouring out in formation. And at the center of it all—the man in white, pristine suit gleaming under the neon lights. Beside him, Widow floated, her hair moving in that impossible wind, blue eyes glowing as she surveyed the building.
"Shit, shit, shit," Monti breathed, still working on the last rope around the woman's ankles.
"We need to move. Now." Said Monti in a hurry.
The woman pulled the blindfold off with shaking hands, blinking in the dim light. Her good eye focused on Monti, recognition and relief flooding her battered face. "You came back…"
"Yeah, and we're getting you out." Monti freed her ankle and helped her stand. She wobbled, barely able to put weight on her legs. He looked around the room frantically—luxurious furniture, expensive fixtures, but no obvious escape route. One window, but they were six stories up. The door they came through was the only exit.
And outside that door, Kínitos was stalling two armed guards. Outside in the hallway, the guards were already turning away from Kínitos, weapons drawn, moving toward the stairwell.
"Wait, wait!" Kínitos called after them, hands raised. "Look, I lied, okay? I snuck up here. But I got a worker ID—"
He fumbled in his pocket, pulling out the keycard the woman had given them days ago.
One of the guards glanced back, barely registering what Kínitos was saying. Before he could even look at the card, his earpiece crackled again with urgent voices.
"All units to first floor! Man in white is in the building! Repeat—man in white is in the building!"
Both guards took off running, sprinting toward the stairwell without another word. Their footsteps thundered down the stairs, joining the chaos below. Kínitos stood alone in the hallway, still holding the ID card, his heart pounding.
More gunshots echoed from below. Louder now. Closer. He turned and opened the door to Room 608. Monti had the woman on her feet, one arm around her waist to support her weight. She was barely conscious, legs shaking, blood still dripping from the cuts on her arms.
"We've got a problem," Monti said, showing Kínitos his phone. "The man in white. He's here. Ground floor, working his way up."
Kínitos's jaw tightened. "How long do we have?"
"Minutes. Maybe less." Monti looked at the woman, then at the single window.
"We can't use the main stairs. He's coming up that way."
"Fire escape?" Asked Kínitos
"Other side of the building." Monti helped the woman toward the door. "We'll have to move through the halls, find another way down."
Below them, the gunfire intensified. Screams. The sound of bodies hitting the floor.
And then—silence. The kind of silence that was worse than the noise.Kínitos and Monti exchanged a look.
"He's bringing them back," Monti said quietly.
"The dead ones. Just like at Marlow Street." Said Monti
The woman whimpered, her good eye wide with fear. "What's happening?"
"Nothing good," Kínitos said. He moved to the door, checking the hallway. Clear for now. "We need to move. Can she walk?" Kínitos asked
"Not fast, but yeah." Monti adjusted his grip on her. "Lead the way." Said a Monti
They stepped into the hallway, moving as quickly as the woman's condition would allow. Every step left small drops of blood on the expensive carpet. Behind them, from the stairwell, they heard new sounds. Not footsteps. Something else. Something wrong.
The jerky, unnatural movement of bodies that shouldn't be moving anymore.
"Faster," Kínitos urged, leading them down the hall toward the far stairwell. "We need to get off this floor. Now."
In Kínitos stopped in his tracks, looking around the hallway. His mind was racing, calculating odds, weighing options.
"Okay, look," he said, turning to face Monti. "I'll hold them off. With these suits it shouldn't be hard—"
"Are you crazy?" Monti's voice was sharp, angry. "They can't die and they can't feel pain. They're goddamn zombies!"
"Yeah, but some of them should have guns," Kínitos replied, his tone calm, rational. "So I take one, and I move quick. Buy you enough time to get her out."
"No—no, no, no, no." Monti shook his head, still supporting the woman's weight. "We're not doing this. We stick together."
"You know damn well, Monti—" Kínitos gets cut off.
"I said NO!" Monti cut him off. "We both know how this goes. You stay behind, play hero, and then what? You get overwhelmed. You get cornered. And I'm halfway down the building when I realize you're not behind me anymore." Said Monti anger in his voice
Kínitos met his eyes. "She can barely walk. You need time. And I can give you that time." Said Kínitos calm and collected
"By fighting an army of resurrected corpses? Alone?" Replied Monti
"I'm not planning on fighting them all." Kínitos activated his suit, purple light racing across his body. "Just slowing them down. Making them focus on me instead of you two." Said Kínitos
The woman looked between them, tears streaming down her face, too weak to speak but clearly terrified. From the stairwell behind them came the sounds—closer now. The shuffle-thump of bodies moving wrong. The scrape of dragging limbs. And underneath it all, a low, wet breathing sound that didn't sound human anymore.
"Kínitos—" Monti started.
"You know I'm right." Kínitos's voice was firm. "Get her to the service stairwell. East side. Get out. I'll meet you at the rendezvous point."
"And if you don't?" Asked Monti
Kínitos almost smiled. "Then tell Jade I went out doing something stupid. He'll believe it."
Monti stared at him for a long moment. His jaw worked, anger and fear and frustration warring across his face. Finally, he nodded once. Sharp. Reluctant.
"Five minutes," Monti said. "You get five minutes to catch up. After that, I'm coming back for you."
"Deal." Smiled Kínitos
Monti adjusted his grip on the woman and started moving down the hall, half-carrying, half-dragging her toward the far end where the service stairwell should be.
Kínitos watched them go for just a second.
Then he turned to face the main stairwell.
The sounds were getting louder. Multiple bodies. Moving in that horrible, jerking rhythm.
He took a breath, feeling the different abilities swirling inside him—immovability, unstoppable momentum, impossible speed. He didn't fully understand any of them yet. Didn't know their limits.
But he was about to find out. The stairwell door burst open. And the dead came through.