He grunted in pain, the tablet slipping from his hand and shattering on the floor.

We broke through into a narrow concrete corridor lit by harsh, humming bulbs. The metal door slammed and locked behind us with a definitive snap that bought us a few seconds.

The hunt was on.

Part 3 — The Hangar

The corridor stretched ahead like a gray labyrinth, thick with jet fuel and industrial cleanser. Our footsteps hammered off the unfinished walls, Maren’s worn shoes scratching, the twins panting as their small legs worked double-time to keep my stride.

I half-lifted Nathan over the fire thresholds as we rounded a blind corner. Maren was carrying Noah now, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Elliot — where does this go?”