The phone's buzz sliced through the darkness, shattering the fragile barrier between sleep and waking.
It pulled me from a restless sleep, insistently signaling that something critical awaited.
I knew instantly it was Adrian. The vibration carried the subtle, almost imperceptible tension I had learned to accept after days of training, the psychic residue of urgency threading through the message.
It was like a tingling in my wrist, a unique sensation that signaled Adrian's presence every time.
The hairs on my arm prickled as if sensing the unseen threads connecting us, adding a metallic tang to my mouth that always accompanied his urgent messages.
I didn't even need to read the text to know. The mission had started.
Adrian received some intel that the organization we were investigating had an underground hold right in the middle of the city.
Mondrovia is structured in such a way that every street, corners, alley, and labyrinth revolve around a centrum.
