Calm.
Controlled.
Familiar.
“Welcome home, Hannah.”
Every light beneath the bunker shifts red.
Emergency illumination floods the concrete corridors below us while warning sirens pulse softly through hidden speakers.
Not loud.
Not chaotic.
Measured.
That’s somehow worse.
Because Wu never loses control.
Not even now.
Russ immediately raises his rifle toward the lower corridor.
“Move fast.”
We descend the rest of the ladder into the underground access tunnel beneath Bucharest.
Cold concrete.
Steel pipes.
The smell of antiseptic buried beneath damp stone.
And instantly—
memories slam into me hard enough to steal my breath.
Small shoes squeaking on polished floors.
Children lined against walls.
A guard whispering:
Eyes down when Director Wu walks past.
My knees nearly buckle when my boots hit the bunker floor.
Clay catches my arm immediately.
Steady.
Warm.
Real.
Wu’s voice echoes again overhead.
