Nina sat at a metal table under the harsh fluorescent light of the warehouse. The room hummed with an electric tension, every shadow a whisper of danger. The metallic tang of rust mixed with the stale scent of old wood, creating a stifling atmosphere. Dr. Graham leaned against a stack of crates, his sharp features sharp as a blade. His enforcers ringed the room—silent, watchful, armed. The metallic tang of rust mixed with the stale scent of old wood, creating a stifling atmosphere."Walker is like a ghost," Dr. Graham said, his voice smooth but edged with frustration. "We need him to come to us."Nina nodded. She knew he wouldn’t allow any failure. The stakes were high, and the price of failure was blood.She had agreed to meet Walker here, hoping to gain his trust long enough to set the trap. Dr. Graham had made it clear—this was her mission alone. It was a test of her loyalty, her skill, and her resolve."I can get to him," Nina offered, her voice steady despite the thundering of h

The hospital corridors stretched long and sterile, the fluorescent lights casting cold, shadowless beams. A nurse moved through them with practiced ease, her expression the perfect mask of a dutiful nurse. A tray of medications rested in her steady hands, her gentle smile betraying nothing of the storm brewing within. Beneath her composed exterior, Her mind raced. She had seen too much—heard too many whispered conversations and witnessed too many patients like Elizabeth, sedated and isolated in the far corners of the hospital. She knew Dr. Graham’s facility wasn’t just a medical institution. It was a front for something far more sinister. Earlier, under the guise of adjusting a bandage, she had slipped Elizabeth a burner phone. The device was small enough to hide beneath the padding, its screen displaying a single message: Help is coming. Stay strong. On it, she had scribbled a number—the only contact she trusted. Walker. She didn’t know Walker personally, but the rumors had reac

Sarah's pulse thundered in her ears as they moved through the narrow corridor. Walker led the way, his steps steady and purposeful despite the looming danger. The hospital's underbelly was a maze of maintenance tunnels and service exits, every corner a potential trap. Elizabeth's breaths were shallow, her skin pale under the flickering lights.Jett’s voice crackled through Walker’s earpiece. "Take a left at the next junction. There’s a maintenance door. It leads to the old laundry chute. You can use it to reach the sub-basement."Walker glanced at Sarah. "Can you manage?"She squared her shoulders, pushing past the fear. "I’m not leaving her."Together, they guided Elizabeth through the dim passageways. Pipes lined the ceiling, dripping condensation onto the cracked tiles. The air was damp and metallic, every sound amplified in the tight space.The maintenance door appeared, its paint peeling, the handle rusted. Walker pulled it open, the metal groaning in protest. Beyond lay a dark s

Walker, Sarah, and Elizabeth slipped into an abandoned building a few blocks from the hospital. The structure was a relic of forgotten times—its windows fractured like spider webs, wallpaper peeling away to reveal water-stained plaster. The floor groaned beneath their feet, each step a whispered warning.Elizabeth sank onto a faded couch, her small frame shivering. The couch’s upholstery was threadbare, stuffing poking through the seams like exposed bone. Sarah wrapped a dusty blanket around Elizabeth, her own hands trembling. Walker moved back and forth across the room, his pacing the only rhythm against the silence. His mind raced through escape routes, each scenario tangled with risk.A soft crackle brought his focus back. Jett’s voice came through the earpiece, distorted but clear enough. "You’re clear for now, but the cops have set up a perimeter. Ramirez is leading the charge."Walker’s expression hardened. "Is he working with Graham?""I don’t think so," Jett replied. "But the

Walker led Sarah and Elizabeth through the maze-like tunnels, their footsteps muffled by the damp concrete floor. The air was heavy with the smell of rust and mildew, but as they pressed forward, a subtle shift brought a hint of freshness. It was a promise of an exit, a reminder that the surface—and freedom—might not be far off.The narrow passage opened into a wider chamber. The room was a graveyard of old machinery, its hulking shapes swallowed by shadows. Piles of tools lay scattered, their metal dulled by age, and the walls bore the scars of decades-old graffiti. Walker slowed, his flashlight casting long, jittery beams. His senses were sharp, every nerve on edge.Then, a movement.A figure slipped into the edge of the light, hands raised in a slow, deliberate gesture of surrender. The man looked rough around the edges—hair unkempt, clothes rumpled—but his eyes were keen, darting between them with the alertness of someone used to danger."Don’t shoot," he said, his voice measured,