I shifted my weight, my boots making no sound on the damp concrete.

Holt kept her gun raised, her eyes tracking Liam’s movements to keep Beatrice distracted.

“Show me the transfer,” Beatrice demanded, her hand shaking slightly as she held the lighter.

I slid backward into the deep shadows near the ruined doorway.

My hand brushed against a cold, rusted metal pipe on the wall.

I gripped it, my fingers wrapping around the iron.

Suddenly, a loud beep echoed from the darkness near the entrance.

A bright light flashed from the hallway behind us, illuminating the entire room.

Beatrice gasped, her thumb slipping on the lighter.

The sudden beam of light cut through the thick dust, reflecting off the damp concrete walls.

It was a heavy industrial flashlight, knocked loose from a rotten timber near the entrance.

Darrow was backing toward the exit, his heavy boots dragging through the rubble.

“Stay where you are, Darrow!” Detective Holt barked, her gun shifting slightly toward him.

Beatrice jerked her head toward the noise, her face pale under the harsh glare of the flashlight.