The dimly lit corridor seemed to stretch on forever. The silence was heavy, pressed against the walls and creeping into every corner of the abandoned hospital wing.
The air was thick with the smell of disinfectant, rust, and something else—something strange, something that seemed to hang in the background like a lingering ghost.
Cassius walked quietly, his hands casually in his pocket, wearing his black trench and leather gloves. His face remained calm, a little tired, a little worn, but under it all there was a resolve.
His piercing blue eyes glimmered under the sparse ceiling lamps. To his side were the Diamond siblings, Larman and Brent, two men who were hard to read.
Larman remained silent, his jaw tight, eyebrows knotted in deep thought. Brent, the more mischievous of the two, kept clicking his knuckles, a nervous habit when something was about to come to a head.
