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Eight. He Has Secrets.
She rubbed her sweaty, dirt-covered palms on her shorts. Hidden behind a stack of crates with Robin, Amelia kept her breathing shallow. Steve had gone ahead, slipping through shadows and making himself responsible for scouting their path. Now, they patiently waited for a signal, for a sound, for anything at all.
Slowly, he emerged from the shadows of a machine, motioning them forward and guiding them somewhere. Amelia's gut churned as they slipped into motion. Just ahead, Russians in white coats and dark uniforms worked in a massive lab that pulsed with a sterile hum. The size of it was staggering. A chill slithered across her back. How the hell was this under Starcourt?
"Okay," Robin exhaled shakily, "That was close."
"Too close." Dustin agreed.
Steve rolled his eyes. "Relax." He hissed, looking over his shoulder. "It's all about being stealthy, like a ninja." His confidence cracked slightly at the edges of his voice, and Amelia noticed the hesitation masked in it. "All right? Relax. Nobody saw and there's not many here..."
She didn't respond. Her gaze lingered on the facility. There was something... wrong here. Terribly wrong. Sinister. Death still lingered—it lived here.
They continued forward until Steve stopped abruptly. Amelia barely caught herself before running into him, snapping out of her spiraling thoughts just in time. She shifted to the side and peeked around Steve. Soldiers. Everywhere. Guarding doors. Gripping rifles. Watching.
Scientists—that's what they were—buzzed between stations, some shouting orders in Russian, things she couldn't quite catch, others scribbling on clipboards, dressed in different suits. The atmosphere was heavy and clinical, but underneath it, something darker boiled.
They ducked behind another container. "Shit," Steve muttered, turning to face them, eyes wide. Amelia clutched the edge of a metal beam like it might anchor her. She could barely breathe there. And with Steve panicking, everything felt worse.
"I saw it," Erica said quickly. "First floor. Northwest."
Amelia frowned. "Saw what? This place is—" She whispered, scanning the chaos.
"The comms room."
"You saw the comms room?"
"Correct."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive," Erica reassured. "The door was open for a second, and I saw a bunch of lights and machines and shit in there."
"That could be a hundred different things."
"I'll take those odds."
Steve let out a slow breath. "All right. We're gonna move fast, we're gonna stay low. Okay?" His tone was hushed but firm. He slowly rose and started walking. Amelia followed immediately, Robin and the kids not straying too far. Her eyes never left his back. Every step felt like balancing on the edge of a knife. One wrong move and it was over. One wrong move, and she'd be dead.
