Chapter 74 Mission Impossible

Chapter 74 Mission Impossible
Sable POV

We navigated the abandoned subway line in complete darkness. The air down here was thick with the smell of stagnant water and rotting flesh alongside a pungent smell, a
sharp contrast to the biting wind we left behind on the surface.

My boots slipped over slick, rusted tracks, but Drazen moved with total certainty. He didn't need the heavy flashlight hooked to my belt, he knew every inch of this grid by heart.

I checked the illuminated dial of my digital watch and we had just two minutes left.

The tunnel dead-ended at a massive sheet of solid iron bolted directly into the bedrock. There were no handles or keyholes. Just a seamless, imposing barricade coated in decades of dust.

Drazen stepped up to the metal, placing his hand flat against a hidden access panel covered in grime.

"Get ready," he murmured.

I braced my stance, watching the seconds tick down. One minute to go.

The silence stretched, agonizing and heavy. If Theron lost his nerve, or if Carvek caught him near the security terminal, this door would stay permanently sealed. We would be trapped in a dead-end pipe with nowhere to go.

Midnight hit.

A muffled, heavy mechanical groan echoed from deep inside the stone wall as a tiny light embedded in the iron flickered from red to a dim, sickly green.

Drazen shoved his fingers into a narrow recess that slid open along the seam as he hauled his weight backward. The rusted hinges shrieked in protest, the massive iron slab barely budging. He grunted, leveraging his good arm against the rock to force it open.

I didn't wait for it to fully open before wedging myself into the tiny gap, pressing the soles of my boots against the doorframe, and threw my body into the iron alongside him.

The door yielded with a harsh scrape, opening just enough for a person to slide through. Thankfully, we slipped past the metal. The second my boots crosses the threshold, the automated system triggered. The iron slammed shut behind us, the deadbolts sliding into place with a terrifyingly final clack.

We were officially locked inside.

I turned around, expecting the familiar, comforting warmth of the Undercourt. Instead, a freezing chill sank straight through my jacket.

Carvek had bled the thermal lines dry. This place was colder than Antarctica. The
bio-luminescent moss that normally bathed the walls in a soft orange hue was dying, reduced to a muted, sickly gray.

It wasn't just the temperature, even the air smelled funny. The usual scent of ash was buried under a smell so thick I could literally taste it at the back of my throat.

"Scoria guards," Drazen breathed, his voice barely a whisper.

He looked down the corridor, taking in the shadows of his own home. It was obvious he despised seeing the Undercourt occupied. I reached out, tapping my knuckles lightly against his forearm to keep him focused. He gave a brief nod, accepting the silent reminder.

We moved deeper into the residential sector, hugging the stone walls. The objective was the vault near the council chamber. Drazen needed the original property deeds and documents stored there to systematically dismantle Carvek’s surface alliances.

We cleared two intersections without any problem but as we approached the third, the
distinct crunch of tactical boots echoed off the stone.

It wasn't a single guard. It was a full patrol, moving fast, their voices echoing around the bend.

Drazen grabbed my elbow as he dragged me backward, shoving me into a narrow, vertical space carved naturally into the volcanic rock.

This space was barely two feet wide so it was difficult for two adults to fit in together.

I hit the back as soon as Drazen stepped in immediately after me, pressing me against the stone to ensure neither of us was visible from the main corridor.

The space was impossibly tight. There was absolutely no room to shift, breathe, or create distance. My vest was crushed directly against his chest. My thighs tangled completely with his, the friction of our pants scraping together
in the dark.

He reached around my waist with his uninjured arm, pulling me even tighter against him.

The heavy boots grew louder, the Scoria guards rounding the corner and entering our hallway.

Drazen buried his face in the crook of my neck, muffling the sound of his own breathing against my skin.

The heat from our position wiped out the cold air in seconds. My pulse picked up in a way that had nothing to do with the guards passing by and everything to do with his body molded perfectly to mine.

I could feel every rigid muscle in his abdomen pressing into me. I felt the rise and fall of his chest as his lips were parted just slightly against my collarbone, the hot air from his lungs gliding over my bare skin.

I squeezed my eyes shut, biting down hard on my lower lip to keep from making a sound.

The guards paused a few yards away. One of them said something low and gruff, the words muffled by the stone.

Drazen shifted his weight slightly to keep a cramp from setting in his bad arm. And the tiny movement sent his hips sliding deliberately against mine.

A sharp, electric jolt of pure desire pooled in my center. My breath hitched audibly when his hand, which was previously spread wide across my lower back, flexed. His fingers dug into my jacket, dragging me an inch closer until the
hard evidence of his arousal pressed unmistakably against my stomach.

We were trapped in absolute silence, surrounded by enemies, completely unable to
speak or pull away.

He slowly lifted his head from my neck. In the pitch-blackness, I couldn't see his face, but I felt his mouth hover mere millimeters from my ear.

"Do not move," he breathed. The whisper was incredibly quiet, but the lust lacing the words sent a violent shiver straight down my spine.

I swallowed hard, my hands trapped between our bodies, resting against his chest. I curled my fingers into his shirt, anchoring myself as the footsteps outside finally began to fade down the hall.

We were alone again, but neither of us made a move to step out of the dark.