Chapter 66 — Hour 2

  Prince of Hell.

  A prisoner no one knew limped through the narrow lane, dragging a cracked riot shield like it mattered. The concrete was wet. Maybe rain. Maybe blood.

  A blur cut past him. Too fast to see.

  He turned.

  Something lunged from the dark with a growl.

  Screaming.

  —

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  “You heard that?” Grim said.

  Stellan didn’t look up. “Yeah. I think that’s what the Warden meant by them.”

  They’d spent the last hour scraping together gear—rusted helmets, a makeshift blade, a half-empty med pack, three cans of food they probably shouldn't eat but would anyway.

  Grim adjusted the bag on his back. “So why’d you beat me half to death when I changed?”

  Stellan shrugged. “Felt like it.”

  Lie.

  Grim didn’t press.

  They reached the city’s main gate. Bent steel. Concrete cracked like ribs. Still no signs of life.

  They stood there for a second.

  Then stepped out.

  Nothing happened.

  Just silence.

  —

  East side.

  Her name was Zoya. Not that she told anyone.

  Her silhouette moved through the alley like she owned the shadows. Pipe bombs. Gas cylinders. Scalpel blades. Fire extinguisher in her grip.

  She passed a broken archway. Something inside was thrashing like it hadn’t eaten in weeks.

  She didn’t stop.

  One step in.

  A shape launched at her from the dark.

  End of Chapter.