The underground safehouse was silent except for the distant hum of the ventilation system.
The air was thick with tension, the kind that settled in the aftermath of barely surviving.
Emily sat at the head of the war room's steel table, hands clasped together, eyes locked on the holographic map flickering in front of her.
Her team was safe—for now. But she couldn't shake the feeling that their escape had been too easy.
Across the table, Damien exhaled sharply. "We need to talk about what just happened."
Lena, standing with her arms crossed near the door, nodded. "They let us go."
Emily's gaze flicked up. "I know."
Damien shook his head, frustrated. "Then why? Why not finish us off?"
No one had an answer.
But Emily had a guess.
She pushed away from the table. "We need to talk to Hale."
Lena raised an eyebrow "Think he's going to start giving us answers just because we ask nicely?"
