Earlier…
Ima crouched in the crawlspace, her knees aching from the sharp grid of the metal floor. Dust clung to the inside of her throat with every breath. She didn't dare shift her weight. One wrong move, one creak of the rusted metal panel under her boot, and it was over.
She pressed her eye against the sliver of light bleeding through the vent grille.
Below them, the hangar was a different world entirely—flooded with sterile light and the hum of engines. Armored cars lined the polished concrete floor like sleeping beasts, black and unmarked, ready to lurch into the night with whatever—or whoever—they were meant to transport.
And at the center of it all stood Adrian.
She hadn't had the displeasure of meeting him in person, but she had heard enough and seen his picture before.
A specter from every nightmare they had tried to outrun.
