The hum of machinery pulsed through the walls, low and alive, like a heart about to burst. Red warning lights flickered overhead, painting the cold metal corridors in streaks of crimson. Somewhere deep within the Genesis facility, an alarm blared shrill and urgent, a countdown neither of them could stop.
Isabella's hand trembled in Sebastian's as they pushed through the corridor. Every step echoed like a gunshot. She could feel his heartbeat through his palm too fast, too strong. "Sebastian," she whispered, breathless. "What's happening?"
He didn't answer at first. His jaw was clenched, muscles straining against his neck. "Genesis is activating," he muttered. "Someone triggered the final sequence."
"Someone?" Isabella's pulse stuttered. "You mean Evelyn."
Sebastian slowed, his eyes darkening. He had hoped never to hear that name again, not here. Not now.
