Chapter 8 · Platform Zero

The address dropped us at a subway entrance that shouldn't exist.

I mean it was there. Concrete steps leading down, the old turnstile rusted halfway open. But the map on my phone showed solid pavement where we stood, and the District Nine transit grid had been shut down six years ago after the collapse.

Kade's grip tightened on my hand. "They're guiding us in."

"Yeah." I stepped through the turnstile. The metal didn't creak. Someone had oiled it recently.

The stairwell smelled like copper and old rain. Emergency lighting flickered on as we descended, motion sensors waking up one by one. My pulse kicked hard enough that I felt it in my temples. Thirty-six minutes left on the countdown. Thirty-six minutes before Kade's next kill order locked in and I'd have to choose between holding his hand forever or watching him tear through Juno's throat.

The platform opened up in front of us. Empty tracks, no third rail, just dust and the kind of silence that makes you want to whisper. But the far wall was new. Clean white tile, the kind they use in corporate medical centers.