C’était un bourdonnement terrifiant, à basse fréquence — le bruit de millions de litres d’eau de rivière pressant contre du bois ancien et du mortier qui s’effritait.
Emma leva les yeux vers le plafond en briques incurvé.
De fins filets d’eau commençaient à ruisseler le long des murs, emportant des décennies de poussière de charbon.
« Combien de temps avant que ça ne s’effondre ? »
« Trente minutes », dit Vincent, marchant déjà vers le sud le long de la voie ferrée.
« Gardez vos pieds entre les liens. »
Si vous mettez le pied dans le fossé de drainage, vous allez vous tordre la cheville, et je ne pourrai pas vous porter tout en gardant mon arme dégainée.
Emma s’empressa de suivre son rythme, ses baskets claquant doucement dans l’obscurité.
Tandis qu’ils progressaient dans les galeries souterraines de la ville, elle aperçut la silhouette haute et solitaire qui marchait devant elle – l’homme que le monde entier croyait être un monstre intouchable, et pourtant, il était entré dans un immeuble en flammes juste pour la sauver des mâchoires des loups.
« Vincent », murmura-t-elle dans l’obscurité.
« Garde ton souffle pour la marche », répondit-il.
« Merci », a-t-elle insisté.
«Vous auriez pu vous échapper par le port au bord du lac avant même que le banquet ne commence.»
Tu es venu à la mezzanine pour moi.
Chapitre 55 – Une fissure dans le fer
À trois kilomètres de là, dans l’obscurité suffocante, le niveau de l’eau leur était monté de la plante des pieds jusqu’aux tibias.
L’air s’emplit d’une odeur de limon stagnant, de graisse de moteur et de tas de cèdres pourris.
Les parois du tunnel gémissaient sans cesse, un chœur de pierres douloureuses qui résonnait jusqu’à leurs os.
Vincent s’arrêta brusquement, levant la paume de la main à plat.
Emma froze instantly, the cold water lapping against her knees.
She held her breath, listening intently.
Above the splashing of their own steps and the distant rumble of the city, another sound carried through the tube—the synchronized, metallic crunch of tactical boots upon wet gravel, approaching rapidly from the north.
“They breached the hatch,” Emma whispered, her voice tightening with dread.
“Matteo knew the blueprints,” Vincent said, extinguishing his wrist torch.
Darkness consumed them instantly—absolute, impenetrable black that made the senses spin.
“He knew where the hatch led.
He isn’t following the tracks; he’s using the service bypass tunnels to cut us off at the Adams Street junction.”
“How many?”
“At least eight.
Heavy gear.
They are moving faster than us because they have night vision.”
Vincent reached into his inner pocket and produced a sleek, matte-black sidearm—a customized SIG Sauer P226.
He pulled the slide back with an oily, precise click, chambering a round.
“Emma, reach down.
Feel the wall to your right.”
Emma ran her trembling hands along the slimy, wet bricks until her fingers snagged on cold, corroded metal.
“There’s an iron ladder.”
“It leads to a utility access shaft that opens into an electrical substation beneath the old post office.
It’s three stories up.
Climb.
Do not stop until you reach the grating at the top.”
Emma’s heart plummeted.
“What about you?”
“The ladder will not bear the weight of two people at once; the anchors are half-eaten by rust.
I will hold the intersection.
When you reach the top, use the heavy iron wrench lashed to the ladder rung to break the padlock on the hatch.
Get to street level and find the payphone outside the Western Union terminal.
Dial 555-0199.
It’s a secure landline to my chief of security at the compound.”
“I am not leaving you down here with him!”
Emma cried, her voice cracking in the dark.
“Matteo wants to kill you, Vincent!
You’re outgunned!”
Vincent stepped closer to her in the darkness.
She couldn’t see his face, but she felt the sudden warmth of his hand grasping the back of her neck, his thumb resting gently against her jawline.
It was a gesture of immense tenderness, entirely at odds with the violence surrounding them.
“I have survived every animal this city has ever spawned, Emma,” he murmured, his voice sending a steadying vibration through her skull.
“Matteo is an amateur playing at being a beast.
Trust me.”
He released her, his hand slipping away.
“Climb.
Now.”
Biting her lip until she tasted iron, Emma found the bottom rung of the ladder with her foot.
The iron was freezing and slick with slime, but she gripped it with both hands and began to ascend into the vertical darkness.
Below her, thirty yards back down the straight tunnel, two bright green beams of infrared lasers suddenly lanced through the darkness, scanning the water’s surface.
“Moretti!”
Matteo’s voice echoed down the tunnel, amplified by the brickwork into a demonic roar.
