A blinding flash of white light exploded in the center of the room, followed by a deafening roar that shook my teeth.

The shockwave knocked me backward, but I scrambled to my feet, my ears ringing with a high-pitched whine.

The warehouse erupted into chaos.

Men on the catwalks began firing blindly, the bullets pinging off the concrete floor and sparking against the metal beams.

I looked through the thick grey smoke and saw Matteo tackle Enzo to the ground.

Two other men threw themselves onto Matteo, pinning him down as he fought them off.

“Emily, go!” Matteo roared, his face pressed against the dusty floor.

I wanted to run to him, to help him, but I knew what was at stake.

If they got the key from me, Matteo would be useless to them, and we would both die.

I turned and bolted toward the dark corner of the warehouse.

The old generator was a massive, rusted block of iron covered in grease.

Behind it, just as Matteo had said, was a small square ventilation hatch with its metal cover hanging loose.