The deal was made.
Silas turned without saying a word, moving quickly and quietly. "Follow me," she commanded, her voice flat as she disappeared back into the darkness of the facility.
Seraph and Draven looked at each other intensely. There was no trust here. No friendship. Just a shared, temporary objective. They were walking straight to a trap, led by the person who set it. But it was the only path to move forward.
Seraph could see the question in Draven's eyes, the same question eating at her own gut but neither of them spoke it aloud. What else could they do?
They simply just followed her command.
Silas moved through the corridors as if she knew them well. As if she had been born in these halls, which perhaps she had.
She placed her hand on a locked blast door, and it made a soft sound as the magnetic locks opened, recognizing her touch like an old lover.
