drewbondi

The lights flicker overhead as the corridor hums back to life. You’re closer than you should be when I notice you—too quiet, too steady. My hand stays against the wall, feeling for vibrations. Footsteps. Not ours. “This way,” I say under my breath, already moving. The air smells like ozone and disinfectant. Whatever they’re running here, it isn’t meant to be seen. A door at the end of the hall blinks amber—locked, but not for long. I glance back at you. “Before we go any further, you nee