--
Boots pounded as several men ran past our hiding spot.
"Spread out! Check every crate!" a gruff voice barked.
Flashlight beams sliced through the darkness, sweeping across the warehouse.
I held my breath as one guard stopped just inches away, his rifle cutting through the shadows.
The woman's grip on me tightened.
"Hound! This section's clear!" someone yelled from deeper inside the building.
"Alright. You stay here with your team—I'll check the next area," the gruff voice answered.
The guard near us turned, his beam hovering just a hair's breadth from our hiding place before finally moving away.
--
Cold sweat trickled down my face as I watched the light move away.
Even after dying once and coming back, all the experience in the world doesn't dull that primal fear you feel when death stares you in the face.
"They'll regroup and check again," the woman from earlier said behind me — her voice calm, barely audible.
"We need to move," she added, already walking away.
This time, I spun around quickly and caught sight of her back as she moved.
She was dressed in a tight, black tactical suit that hugged her form perfectly — every curve outlined with silent confidence.
Her black, shoulder-length hair swayed slightly from side to side with each step, until she suddenly stopped.
Without turning, she spoke.
"Are you gonna keep looking, or are you gonna sit there and get caught?"
I blinked once, pulled myself together, adjusted my bag, and followed quietly behind her.
She moved deeper into the maze of crates and barrels, making random turns that somehow kept us clear of the patrols.
I stayed close, watching the way she moved.
She was above average height — about a head shorter than me. And mind you, I'm by no means short, easily hitting six feet.
But it was her steps that caught my attention.
'Almost totally silent,' I muttered in my head.
She made almost no sound as she walked.
Like a cat moving across soft grass.
You'd have to strain your ears just to catch a hint of her footsteps.
'My steps might as well be thunder compared to hers.'
'Is she an assassin?'
Though, that's probably a stupid question — everything about her screamed that she was.
Which only made the next question louder in my head.
'Who is she, and what the hell is she doing here?'
--
She kept moving, and I followed close behind until she suddenly made a sharp left turn and stopped.
I froze too, wondering what happened, until she started pushing carefully on a random barrel — revealing a hidden floor panel underneath.
She crouched, hooked her fingers under the edge, and pried it open.
Then she turned to me and pointed at the darkness below.
"Down. Now."
Her words barely registered as I stared at her face — or rather, what covered it.
A white, fox-like mask with a frowning expression… and a jagged red scar running across its right cheek.
I raised an eyebrow, a confused look crossing my face.
She then tilted her head slightly and muttered in a soft tone,
"Are you dumb?"
"…"
I blinked once, my eyes narrowing dangerously for a moment before I forced myself back to calm land. Giving the mask one last glance, I moved toward the opening.
I knelt beside it. 'Looks deep… but at least there's a ladder.'
Sliding my bag off, I dropped it in. A faint thud echoed several seconds later.
'Definitely deep,' I thought.
Without another word, I gripped the ladder and started descending, the fox lady followed close behind, sealing the hatch above us with a soft click.
--
Everywhere was pitch black as we continued down the ladder, our steps making it creak lightly.
After what felt like a minute, my foot finally met solid ground.
Still mostly blind, I moved my hands along the floor until my fingers brushed against my bag.
"Got it," I murmured, fumbling with the zipper to fish out my torch.
With a soft thud, the fox lady landed behind me.
Before I could switch on the light, her voice cut through the darkness.
"Don't bring out any light source… just follow me."
I froze, lips twitching in mild annoyance. Then, with a tired sigh, I zipped the bag shut again, slung it over my shoulder, and followed her into the darkness.
'Looks like some sort of corridor,' I thought as I looked around, my eyes slowly adjusting to the dark.
She made a few confident turns as we navigated through the narrow space, until she stopped in front of a small metal door.
Then, pulling out a key, she slid it into the lock and turned it. A soft click followed before she pushed the door open and stepped inside.
I followed after her, slipping into the room before coming to a halt.
'Looks like a private quarter,' I thought as I looked around.
It was about the size of a small dorm room.
The walls were bare, unpainted concrete.
A simple metal bed frame with a thin mattress sat in one corner, beside a small built-in desk buried under maps and notebooks, and a chair.
At the far end of the room was another door, leading somewhere else.
Looking up, I noticed a lone light bulb hanging from the ceiling, a small fan beside it, and a vent humming quietly for ventilation.
The fox lady walked slowly toward the bed, sat down, and gazed at me.
"You gonna close the door or what?"
I gave her a look before turning around and shutting the door behind me.
Walking further in, I glanced around the room once more before heading toward the wall. Dropping my bag, I slid down and sat, resting my back against the cold concrete.
Letting out a long breath, I stared up at the ceiling — the exhaustion finally starting to sink in.
After a few minutes, I reached for my bag, fishing around for my phone.
It shouldn't be soaked since the bag's waterproof, but…
"Yup, it's toast," I murmured.
All that tossing around must've damaged it.
The screen was completely cracked, and it wouldn't even turn on.
"Which means I've lost track of time," I whispered, my expression turning slightly grim.