The chamber breathed with silence at first. Then came the hunters' footsteps—boots hammering concrete, shadows moving along the fractured ledges. Their voices echoed in harsh Korean, clipped orders bouncing off the walls, reverberating until it sounded like the chamber itself spoke in Jin's tongue.
Lin crouched low, one palm pressed against the damp floor, feeling the vibrations of their advance. Each step told him the hunters' number, their rhythm, their confidence. He counted at least six, maybe more. The tunnels had funneled them into this hollow space, and now they thought the trap was closing.
They were wrong.
Keller knelt beside him, pistol drawn, whisper sharp. "Six of them, maybe more. We can't shoot our way out."
"No," Lin agreed softly. "But we don't need to."
Min-joon pressed against the wall, face pale in the faint light leaking through cracks above. "Then what do we do?"
