THE CRACK BENEATH THE SKIN

Richard stood at the foot of the concrete stairs like an immovable monolith. His dark shirt was torn at the cuff, and the knuckles of his right hand were grazed and raw. The yellow service bulb cast deep, angular shadows across his cheekbones, hiding his eyes behind hollow sockets of darkness.

"Karen," Richard said, his voice terrifyingly calm amid the blaring sirens overhead. "Did you really think Cole could pull you out before I finished the sweep?"

The man named Cole stepped in front of Ava’s wheelchair, shielding her body with his own. His hand dipped under the oversized scrub top, resting on the concealed grip of a weapon. "The contract is void, Mitchell. You caused structural damage to the subject. The agency doesn't tolerate broken collateral."

"She’s my responsibility," Richard snarled, stepping up one riser. His gun remained pointed dead center at Cole's chest. "I raised her for eleven years under this roof. I took the fall for your sloppy cleanups in Portland. And now you think you can smuggle her out through a loading bay because an emergency room doctor ran an unapproved scan?"

Ava gripped the armrests of the wheelchair, tears blurring her vision. "Why are you doing this? I didn't steal anything from your desk, I swear! I just dropped my notebook!"

Richard’s gaze flicked to Ava, softening with a sickening, manufactured paternal affection. "Oh, little bird. It isn't about what you took. It’s about what you read. You saw the ledger, didn't you? You saw the name on the intake forms."

Karen lunged forward slightly, her voice a ragged shriek. "She didn't read it! Richard, please! Let her go, take me!"

"You're already dead to them, Karen," Richard whispered. "Both of you are."

A deafening pop shattered the concrete corridor.

Cole fired through the fabric of his scrub top. Richard dove to the side, tumbling onto the industrial laundry bins as a second shot pinged against the metal railing. Cole spun the wheelchair around with one hand, kicking open a reinforced fire door to their left.

"Move! To the utility tunnel!" Cole shouted, shoving Karen ahead of him.

They burst into a humid, steam-filled corridor lined with roaring industrial pipes. Ava clutched her broken leg, screaming as every bump in the uneven floor sent shockwaves through her bone. Behind them, heavy footsteps echoed with terrifying speed.

Cole shoved the wheelchair through a set of double swinging doors labeled BOILER ROOM 3. He slammed a heavy iron bar across the handles, sealing it.

"That will hold him for two minutes," Cole panted, blood seeping through his own side from a grazing wound. He turned to Karen, his breathing ragged. "Where is the override drive, Karen? Tell me you brought it."

Karen stood motionless in the center of the steam-filled room, her purse clutched against her chest. She looked at Cole, then down at Ava.