I look around, getting my bearings. We’re in the building’s lobby: high ceiling, marble columns, arches. The ceiling above my head is patterned in tiny mosaic tiles. The far end of the lobby has some yellow police tape dangling in an open archway, the adjacent marble stained black like there was a fire here at some point. I take note of that, thinking that we might be moving through some unstable territory.

I glance at my con. It’s framed in green. In the corner is the small map with the five green triangles. The rest of the con’s screen shows a live feed of the lobby we’re standing in. We need to go down. There’s no voice in my head telling me that, no indication on my con. I just know. Like Jackson knew, every time. Internal Drau alert system.

Closing my eyes, I try and find him in my thoughts. He isn’t there. I feel lost without him. Afraid. I have four people relying on me to get them through this alive, and I don’t know that I can even get myself through.

But thinking that way won’t help at all. So I lock my emotions away and face the moment, this moment, only this one. I’ll face the next one when I have to.

“Stairs,” I murmur, and take the lead, thinking as I do that we’ve been dropped really close. No daylong jog to get to the target like there was in the caves. Not even an hour-long one like there was in Vegas. I don’t need to wonder why. I know. There’s no time for the usual protocols. The situation here is urgent.

The staircase is open and it must have been beautiful once. Now, it’s littered with dust and debris, the banisters cracked and broken. I check my con. It shows the stairwell going down into darkness. I follow its lead and take my team into the bowels of the building.

We pass abandoned offices, piled waist high with garbage, glass doors papered over with newsprint. I wait for the sensation that tells me the Drau are near. I reach for it, but find nothing.

We inch along in the darkness. My fear is bitter on my tongue, and the weight of the four other lives depending on me nearly bows me in half.

Wrong. Something’s wrong.

I raise one hand, halting our progress, then pull my weapon cylinder free, holding it up so the others can see. I hear a faint swish that tells me at least one of them followed my lead, but I don’t look back to make certain.

Careful where I step, I lead them forward, fighting the urge to turn and run. I take a slow look around, trying to spot the source of my unease. I see nothing. Only darkness and shadows. Funny that I find that comforting. It’s light we have to be afraid of now.

Behind me, one of them isn’t as careful. I hear the snap of wood breaking under the weight of their foot. The sound is painfully loud in the silence.

My heart drums a frantic rhythm. My breath comes in rapid pants. I shake my head as the horrific feeling I recognize from Vegas and the caves washes over me. Enemy. The word is a litany in my brain, a poison in my veins, amping up my fear, my pulse, my panic.

Not going there. Not sinking into that mire.

I force my anxiety under control and keep going and going. Closer to the things that want me dead. The things that will take my brain, keep my body alive, use my genetic material to create an army that will help destroy mankind.

Not on my watch. Not happening on my watch.

But the fear inside me burns me now, like alcohol in an open wound.

Trap. Get out. Miki, get out!

Jackson’s voice echoes in my thoughts at the same second I’m already screaming, “Get out!”

I spin and shove the girl behind me, little blond Kendra with her angel’s face. “Run,” I snarl, even though I know it’s too late.

Light flares with painful intensity. I blink, knowing I’ve already failed them, my team, the four lives depending on my decisions. Was this how Jackson felt? No wonder he wanted out. The weight of my responsibility chokes me.

The shriek of metal flays my thoughts. It’s the Drau, bending girders, breaking doors. “Get out! Luka, get them out!” I scream, my weapon cylinder in my hand. I fire, spin, fire again. From the corners of my eyes, I catch movement and I hear the sounds of scrambling; then there’s a dark flash that tells me Luka didn’t listen. He’s there, at my back, firing at the bright shapes that flit all around us.

Lights stream past like a subway car rushing through a station. Part of me, the part that’s calm and in control, takes stock. My team is at my back. We’re in a tight formation in a fairly narrow hallway, firing at the masses of Drau that come at us. Too many for five people. We take some down and they just keep coming, like locusts or a swarm of killer bees.

I step back, pushing my team back in the direction of the stairs. The Drau flash, leaving bright streaks interrupted by milliseconds of darkness. I shoot, step back, shoot again, and finally, finally, we’re at the base of the stairs and the Drau are in front of me. I hazard a frantic look up the stairs. There’s nothing there. No lights. No Drau.

I’ve had no practice at this. I’ve been on exactly two missions, pretty much flailing my way through both of them, and now I’m the one in charge, the one everyone’s depending on to get them out alive.

“Luka.” I’m breathing so hard I can barely speak, but I force the words out, making my tone hard and firm. “This is an order. When I say, I need you to get everyone up those stairs. Get them out of the building. Everyone out. You included. Not up for negotiation.”

The Drau are holding back, and that makes me more afraid than when they were streaking toward us. They’re regrouping. Reformatting. Getting together a fresh plan. So far, the only reason we’ve done as well as we have is because the hallway was too narrow for them to completely surround us.