Wendy's POV
The city never truly rests. It breathes in whispered conversations and exhales through neon signs, a living thing that has forgotten silence exists.
We discover refuge in a structure caught between abandonment and decay, wedged between twin glass towers that devour starlight. The urban glow has murdered the night sky, transforming it into nothing more than empty black fabric stretched overhead. The building's entrance door sags on broken hinges. Dust and corroded metal assault my senses in the stairwell.
Javier activates his flashlight, cutting through the darkness as he guides us upward. "A dump like this? Nobody's hunting for anyone here."
"Nobody's hunting for anything in this wasteland," I respond under my breath.
"That's precisely why it works."
The fourth floor greets us with a corridor stretching into shadows, walls lined with numbered doors decorated in spray paint and crumbling plaster. He forces door 4B open and steps across the threshold.
