Page 54
I crossed the study as the sound of boots spread through the hall behind me.
No introductions followed. No wasted words. Only silence. A language older than conversation. I reached the desk and pulled the chair free. The movement behind me didn’t settle until I sat first.
Then—
Fabric shifted.
Weapons unfastened quietly beneath coats.
One remained near the doorway. Another moved toward the fire without touching its warmth. The third stepped closer to the desk.
“Revenant.”
The title settled heavily in the room. No one spoke after it. Not even Rafe moved. The storm groaned through the walls above us. No one acknowledged it.
I rose first. The others followed without words. Rafe moved toward the western wall of the study. I tracked every movement as he lifted his hand, pressing it beneath the edge of the shelving. A low mechanical click answered.
Movement.
Sound.
Old gears shifting behind stone. Cold air climbed upward as the hidden door released. None of them reacted. The passage beyond smelled of dust, oil and old electricity.
I stepped through first, the descent etched into muscle memory. Boots followed behind me in disciplined rhythm as the door sealed shut above us.
The sounds of the house disappeared immediately.
No thunder.
No wind.
Only the low electrical hum waiting beneath the estate.
My footsteps echoed against concrete and stone as the overhead bulbs flickered awake.
A sharp split cracked the corridor.
A bulb burst somewhere at my right. Glass cascaded to the ground, crunching under boots.
No one slowed.
The temperature dropped the deeper we descended.
Monitors along the far wall flickered slowly back to life.
Forgotten—
Until they weren’t.
I reached out, fingers hit the edge of the desk before I stopped and turned around. The room settled, leaving the faint hum of the screens behind me.
Silence waited.
It didn’t have to wait long.
“Three safehouses hit in the last month.” One of them said.
Another added. “No survivors at the Warsaw site.”
