"I finally found you, pretty boy," the voice purred through the blackness. The Pouncer was close, her location pinpointed by the smug, jagged edge of her tone. She had adjusted to the dark with the predatory ease of a creature that thrived in the shadows.
"Let me have the girl," a second voice added—deeper, crackling with a low-frequency hum. Thomas recognised it instantly. It was the lightning-wielder, the blade guy.
They were trapped between a scalpel and a hammer. One was poised to blink onto their backs, the other to vaporise the entire tunnel section with a single arc of electricity. It was a perfect tactical pincer.
"Do it!" Thomas roared.
He didn't wait for Lucy to find her courage. He reached out in the blind dark, caught her by the waist, and practically hurled her toward the approaching threat. It was a counter-intuitive move—dashing toward the killers—but Thomas knew that in a narrow tube, the only way out was through.
