The south corridor hissed open.
Adrian's boots thundered against the reinforced flooring as he strode down the stark hallway, metal and glass gleaming coldly under overhead lights. The walls trembled slightly with the weight of his rage — or maybe that was the tremor still lingering in the base's lower levels. Either way, no one in his path dared to breathe too loud, much less speak.
He barely registered the guards at each checkpoint, swiping through clearances faster than the system could keep up.
Sector D.
Zara's containment zone.
He didn't slow.
Not until he reached the blast door sealed with reinforced psychic-dampening locks. She was too powerful to contain otherwise, even now — even with the inhibitors.
He slapped his hand against the scanner. "Open it."
The door didn't move.
"Sir," a guard stammered, stepping out from a nearby console station, "we're required to perform a double confirmation with psychic-class inmates. The last shift—"
