(Lena’s POV)

The footsteps grew louder, deliberate and measured, echoing through the concrete hallway. Each one seemed to cut through the air, drawing closer. Damian’s hand brushed against mine, steady and controlled, urging me backward into the shadows beside the vault entrance.

The dim lights flickered again. The corridor stretched into a narrow strip of gray and gold, illuminated only by the faint emergency bulbs that lined the ceiling.

He mouthed a single word to me—wait.

I ...