Chapter 10 · Dead End

"Get your damn hands on the door, Kyle! Now!" Elara’s voice cracked, the usual ice in her tone replaced by a jagged edge of panic.

I didn't need the order. I was already there, my boots slipping in the greasy sludge of the maintenance corridor. I slammed my shoulder into the heavy blast door, the metal groaning under the pressure. Behind us, the rhythmic thud of Corp boots echoed off the narrow walls. They weren't running; they were hunting. They knew we were trapped.

"It’s locked from the outside!" I yelled, my voice sounding raw, like I’d been swallowing glass. "The override is fried!"

"Then break it!" she screamed. She was pressed against my back, her chest heaving, the scent of sterile ozone and expensive perfume clashing with the stench of the sewers. I could feel her heart hammering through the thin fabric of her tactical gear, a frantic rhythm that matched my own.

I gripped the edge of the door. The moment my skin touched the chrome plating, it happened. That familiar, sickening hum started in my marrow. It wasn't just heat—it was hunger.