Page 99 of Knight

We emerge out of the stairwell and into another hallway. This one is wider, with higher ceilings. It makes me feel vulnerable, like we’ve stepped into a spotlight.

A door slams somewhere behind us, the sound bouncing off the walls. Voices echo, moving closer.

"Run." Knight snaps.

We sprint down the hallway, Michael somehow finding reserves of energy I didn't think he had left. My legs burn as we round another corner, then another.

"Contact." Rook's voice carries none of the panic I'm feeling. In fact, it’s terrifyingly calm.

The sound of fighting reaches us—short, brutal impacts followed by bodies hitting the ground. When we round the corner, Rook is already there. His eyes flick to me briefly, assessing, before locking back on the hallway behind us.

"Transport is in position." Bishop's update brings a surge of hope. "Thirty seconds."

Fresh air hits my face as we emerge into predawn darkness. A black SUV is parked in the shadows, its engine idling. Bishop stands ready to cover our escape, his focus absolute as he scans for threats.

"Go." Knight pushes us toward the vehicle. "Move!"

Bullets spark off concrete as security catches up. Michael dives into the vehicle, pulling me with him. Victor follows.

Knight and Rook remain outside, covering us with quick, sharp shots.

"Clear!" Rook's shout carries over the gunfire.

In the lull, they both dive into the car.

"Drive!" Knight barks.

Bishop doesn't hesitate. The SUV surges forward, tires throwing gravel as we accelerate away from the facility. Rookand Knight keep watch out of the windows, guns ready, but no pursuit materializes. I collapse back against the seat, my heart racing.

"They'll have their own vehicles," Victor says. "And resources we don't know about. They didn't build all this to let it slip away easily."

I glance at Michael. His head rests against the window, his face pale and gaunt. My fingers find his wrist, checking his pulse. It’s steady, but his skin is clammy.

“I’m fine,” he murmurs, forcing a weak smile. “Just tired. They kept us working ... I don’t even know how long.”

"Three days straight, this last time." Victor's voice carries hints of anger. He’s not as calm as he’s trying to pretend. "They were getting desperate for results."

Lights flash behind us. Rook shifts, gun ready, but it’s just early morning traffic. We're far enough from the facility now to blend in with commuters. Bishop guides us through a series of turns that feel random but I’m sure they’re not.

"Two minutes to switch point." He checks the mirrors. "No signs of pursuit yet, but they'll have people in the city. Networks we don't know about."

The vehicle exchange happens in an empty parking structure. Another SUV, this one dark blue but just as unremarkable. We transfer quickly, though my legs are still shaking.

"Safehouse is thirty minutes out." Bishop takes the wheel again. "Secured location, fully stocked. No connections they can trace."

Michael's eyes drift closed. In the growing light of dawn, I can see how much weight he’s lost. I should be checking vital signs, assessing his condition, but exhaustion isn't something I can fix with the basic first aid knowledge I have.

Knight's hand finds mine in the darkness between seats, his grip firm. My shaking subsides a little, and I’m unprepared for the adrenaline crash that hits me seconds later.

"Rest." His voice is pitched low, just for me. "We're clear for now."

But we're not. Not really.

Whatever they wanted from Michael and Victor, they invested too much in this operation to just let them go. They'll keep searching. Keep hunting. Keep trying to recapture their prisoners.

My fingers tighten around Knight’s, fear like acid in my stomach. I try to ignore it. Pushing it down and away.

We’re alive. That’s what matters right now. We’re out of that facility.

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