The tunnel beyond the platform stretched into darkness, damp and silent except for the faint hum of electricity running through ancient cables overhead. Ochieng wiped the blood from his arm where a bullet had grazed him. It wasn't deep, but it burned like hell.
Lin Feng crouched near the edge of the platform, peering down the tunnel. "If Veyron's men survived that train, they won't give up. We need to move."
Cassandra nodded, tucking her gun back into its holster. "But where? There's no exit here."
Ochieng scanned their surroundings. **The tunnel was old—**far older than the rest of the city's infrastructure. Its walls were covered in grime, and the air was thick with dust. But something felt… wrong.
Then he saw it.
A section of the wall, barely noticeable in the dim light, had a symbol carved into the concrete. It was old, almost eroded, but it resembled an insignia Ochieng had seen once before—in his father's hidden archives.
His heart pounded.
"This way," he said, moving toward the marked wall.
Lin Feng frowned. "What are you—"
Ochieng pressed his hand against the symbol.
A low rumble shook the ground beneath them.
Cassandra jumped back as a hidden door slid open, revealing a passageway leading downward. A gust of cold air rushed out, carrying the scent of rusted metal and damp earth.
Lin Feng's eyes widened. "What the hell is this place?"
Ochieng stepped inside. The walls were lined with old cables and forgotten machinery, humming faintly as if they had been running for decades without anyone noticing.
"We don't have time to ask questions," Ochieng said. "Let's go."
With a final glance at the tunnel behind them, they stepped through the hidden door.
And it sealed shut behind them.
A metallic clank echoed through the chamber. Then silence.
Cassandra exhaled sharply. "Great. Now we're trapped."
Ochieng ignored her, moving forward. Something was pulling him deeper. The air felt heavier, charged with an energy he couldn't explain.
Lin Feng turned on a flashlight, sweeping it across the walls. More symbols. More inscriptions. Some in languages none of them recognized.
Then—footsteps.
Not theirs.
Ochieng raised a fist, signaling the others to stop. The sound was distant, but steady. Someone else was down here.
Cassandra whispered, "Tell me that's just our echo."
Lin Feng shook his head. "No. We're not alone."
Ochieng's grip tightened around the small dagger he always carried. His instincts screamed danger.
And then, just ahead in the darkness, two glowing amber eyes blinked open.