"How far?" the boss asked.
The tunnel air was colder than the streets, stale in a way that made every breath feel recycled.
The rails ran like twin scars through the darkness, and the walls sweated with damp. Kael could hear the group behind him in small noises they didn't realize they were making, armor shifting, boots scraping gravel, someone swallowing too loudly. Even the confident ones couldn't hide it. They were walking into a place that didn't belong to them.
"A bit ahead, they won't be rushing, so don't worry about not making it early," Kael said as he walked next to the boss.
He kept his eyes on the mini-map while he spoke, letting the lie about "smell" sit comfortably behind his tongue.
The Snakes weren't far, their cluster of green dots moving steadily, but without urgency. Petrov wanted the five-minute advantage on paper, not the first bite in reality. Kael understood that kind of cowardice. It was a practical cowardice, the kind that survived.
