Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Hale pulled free of Luke’s grip and led him deeper into the sub-basement.
After the third turn, the corridor started to look the same. Luke followed the electrical conduits above his head. They were the only indication that Hale was leading him forward instead of circling back through the same stretch of concrete with different pipes overhead.
The whole level hummed. Not loudly. Loud would’ve been better. This was worse. A low, constant vibration buried in the walls, the floor, and the narrow metal conduits bolted along the ceiling. It made the air feel alive, as if the building had a pulse and Luke was walking inside its ribs.
Hale moved ahead of him with the speed of someone who knew exactly where every camera, door, and blind corner lived.
Luke hated that he had to trust him now. He had every reason to be furious with Hale, but anger wouldn’t destroy the system or return Luke to Connal any faster.
“How much farther?”
“End of the next corridor.”
“Your definition of close needs work.”
Hale didn’t look back. “We’re almost there.”
“People always say that when they mean far enough to become a problem.”
The corridor narrowed beside a bank of electrical panels.
Yellow warning labels peeled at the corners.
A locked cage covered a section of pipes feeding into the ceiling.
Somewhere behind the wall, machinery kicked on with a hard metallic thunk, and Luke’s hand instinctively curled into a fist. He had to force himself to open it again.
He had been in enough restricted-access spaces to recognize the feel of them. Colder air, ugly lighting, and nothing decorative because no one was meant to linger. Everything existed to serve a function.
This function could expose Connal and every other magical being Hale’s system found.
“Tell me exactly what’s inside the server room,” Luke said.
Hale swiped a keycard at a black reader beside a service door. The light blinked red once, then green. “Local system storage, internal security routing, and the building’s backup access.”
The lock released with a flat click. Hale hurried through the doorway, and Luke followed.
“Can you shut down the tracking system from the server room?”
“Yes.”
“How many ways into it?”
“One.”
“And how many access points between here and there?”
Hale hesitated. “Three, including this one.”
“Lock each one behind us.”
“I can’t initiate a full lockdown from here. The internal security controls are routed through the server room.”
The service door closed behind them with a heavy seal. It had no window and no visible handle beyond the emergency bar. It might delay someone unfamiliar with the building, but it could become a trap if the security system locked them on the wrong side.
“Then we assume every door behind us will slow them down but won’t stop them.”
“You saw what they did to my office. I’m not sure anything in this building will stop them.”
“Neither am I. Keep moving.”
Luke followed Hale deeper into the corridor. Ahead, the corridor bent left. The lighting changed, becoming colder and brighter, while fluorescent strips buzzed overhead in an uneven rhythm. The floor sloped downward, shallow enough that Luke felt the change more in his knees than saw it.
Hale rounded the bend and stopped so abruptly Luke nearly walked into him.
“What?”
Hale lifted one hand for silence.
For a moment, Luke heard nothing beyond the building itself—the hum inside the walls, the buzz of the lights, and the distant rush of air through the vents.
Then came a footstep.
Another followed.
Low voices carried through the corridors behind them, muffled by concrete and distance but drawing closer.
Luke looked back toward the service door. Three access points between them and the server room. None of them guaranteed to hold.
They were out of time.
Hale’s gaze cut toward a small black camera dome mounted beside a sprinkler head.
“Can you access the security feed?” Luke asked.
“Not from here.” Hale pulled out his phone, glanced at the screen, and shoved it back into his pocket. “No signal.”
A metallic impact echoed through the corridor behind them.
The service door had slowed the intruders for less than a minute. Muffled voices followed, then the sharper crackle of a radio.
“The private elevator stopped at the lowest sublevel.”
“They took the service corridor.”
The intruders weren’t tracking magic. They were following the building’s layout and the only escape route Hale could have used.
Which meant Hale was leading them directly to the system they had come to find.
Luke looked at the camera. “Can they access that feed?”
“Not unless they’ve breached the security network.”
Another impact rang through the corridor. Metal groaned.
“Assume they have,” Luke said. “Where’s the next access point?”
“Beyond the turn.”
“Then move.”
They ran.
The corridor dropped again, steeper this time, and ended at another reinforced door. Hale swiped his keycard. The reader flashed green, allowing them through before the door sealed behind them.
Second access point.
The third waited at the bottom of the slope. This one required Hale’s keycard and a code entered on a numbered keypad. His fingers slipped on the first attempt.
“Slow down,” Luke said. “Get it right.”
Hale shot him a look, then entered the code again. The lock released.
They passed through and reached a landing where two routes opened ahead beneath a sign printed in stark black letters.
**AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.**
One corridor continued straight toward an elevator, its stainless-steel doors scuffed near the bottom.
The other angled right, ending at a reinforced stairwell door beneath a red EXIT sign.
Halfway along that route stood a windowless door with two separate access panels—a keycard reader and another keypad.
A camera tracked the corridor from above it.
The air there was colder, carrying a dry metallic bite that raised the hair along Luke’s arms.
He knew what waited behind that door before Hale spoke.
“The server room.”
Hale stopped at the center of the landing. For the first time since they’d left the office, he looked uncertain.
Luke hated that more than the pursuit. “Which way gets us out?”
“The elevator should take us back to the service level. The stairwell leads outside.”
“Should?”
“If the building hasn’t locked them down.”
Luke nodded toward the windowless door. “And you can get us in there?”
“Yes.”
Luke looked from the server room to the stairwell beyond it. Hale followed his gaze and understood the choice he was measuring.
“If we leave now, we might make it outside,” Hale said. “If we enter the server room, we won’t finish the shutdown before they reach us.”
Somewhere behind them, metal slammed open. One of the security doors had fallen.
Voices spilled into the corridor.
Luke had seconds.
Hale caught his arm. “Luke.”
Luke looked at Hale’s hand, then at his face. Fear and calculation warred there, along with the first trace of guilt Luke had seen since confronting him.
None of it changed the decision.
The stairwell offered open air and a chance to survive long enough to find his way back to Connal.
The server room offered everyone else the same chance.
If Luke ran, the system stayed alive.
If the system stayed alive, Connal remained exposed.
“Open the server room.”
“Luke—”
“Now.”
Hale swore, vicious and low, but he moved. He pressed his keycard against the reader.
Red.
He tried again.
Red.
Luke’s pulse kicked once, hard.
“They’ve locked down the system,” Hale said.
“Override it.”
“I’m trying.”
“Try faster.”
Hale entered a code on the second panel. The keypad flashed yellow, demanding another form of authorization. He swiped his card again and held it against the reader until both panels finally turned green.
The lock released.
Luke shoved his shoulder against the door before it had fully opened. Cold air spilled through the widening gap.
Rows of black server racks stood beyond the threshold, their status lights blinking in ordered lines. The sound inside was louder, a wall of fans and circulating air, steady and relentless.
Hale caught the edge of the door. “Once you’re inside, I can seal it.”
Luke looked at him.
Hale’s face had gone pale beneath the harsh lights, but his hand remained steady on the control panel.
“You mean lock me in.”
“I mean buy you time.” Hale glanced toward the corridor behind them. “Destroy it, Luke. I’ll distract them.”
He stood outside the server room with one hand on the panel and the other braced against the frame, as though he could hold the entire building back by force.
A masked figure appeared at the far edge of the landing.
Luke lifted his chin. “Tell me what to shut down.”
“Back row, third rack from the left. The main routing console.” Hale pointed past him. “Pull the black-and-yellow isolation breaker first, then turn the red emergency key. That will trigger the local shutdown.”
Hale pulled the keycard free and held it out. “Take this. You may need my credentials if the system resists the shutdown.”
Luke took it and slipped it into his pocket. “Will this open the server-room door?”
“Not from the inside. The reader is out here.”
Of course it was.
“Will shutting it down stop the tracking?”
“It should.”
Luke held his gaze for a beat, then nodded. “Seal the door.”
Hale slammed his hand against the panel, and the server-room door began to close.
Luke backed away as the gap narrowed. Through it, he saw Hale turn toward the approaching intruders and raise his empty hands. It looked enough like surrender to make them hesitate.
That was all Hale needed it to do.
The door sealed, and the locks engaged.
Luke turned and ran between the racks. The grated metal floor rang beneath his boots while cold air blasted upward from the vents, turning the sweat along his spine icy.
A muffled command sounded beyond the sealed door.
Hale answered, but the steel swallowed his words. A sharp impact cut him off.
Then silence.
Luke kept running.
The servers rose on both sides of him in black rows, their status lights blinking green, amber, and blue.
Back row. Third rack from the left.
He counted as he ran. The routing console glowed at shoulder height behind a clear security panel. A card reader waited beside it.
Luke pulled Hale’s keycard from his pocket and swiped it. The reader flashed green, and the panel released. Below the screen, a breaker box sat recessed into the rack, each control marked with a neatly printed label. Luke found the black-and-yellow isolation breaker.
A heavy blow struck the server-room door.
He pulled the breaker down. The server lights flickered. An alarm screamed as red strobes flashed overhead. The fans dipped, surged, then steadied into a lower, rougher rhythm.
The console screen changed.
LOCAL OVERRIDE INITIATED.
MANUAL KEY REQUIRED.
Luke found the red emergency key beneath a clear protective cover. He slammed the heel of his hand against it. Pain shot up his wrist. The plastic cracked but held.
Another blow struck the door.
Voices carried through the steel, muffled but unmistakable.
“Breach it.”
“He’s inside.”
Luke hit the cover again. The crack widened enough for him to hook his fingertips beneath the edge. He tore it away, splitting the skin beneath one nail.
The red key waited beneath it.
Luke closed his fingers around it and turned.
For one heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then the console flashed white. Every light in the row went dark, and the hum dropped so abruptly that his ears rang with its absence. Backup power kicked on somewhere deeper in the room, rough and uneven, while lines of text raced across the screen.
TRACKING ARRAY DISCONNECTED.
LOCAL DATA ARCHIVE ACTIVE.
MANUAL LOCKDOWN ENGAGED.
Luke scanned the console. A diagram had appeared beneath the warnings, one section of the rack pulsing red.
PRIMARY DATA ARCHIVE.
The indicator pointed to a narrow storage bay below the breaker box. Luke found the recessed handle and pulled.
Nothing moved.
The server-room door screamed beneath another impact. From where Luke stood, he could see the frame beginning to warp around the lock. He wrapped both hands around the handle and pulled again. The archive module slid free with enough force to send him stumbling backward.
Another strike hit the door.
Then another.
They were coming in.
Blood welled beside Luke’s torn nail, making the metal casing slippery beneath his fingers. His hands had begun to shake with the aftermath of too much adrenaline, but he tightened his grip and drove the module against the edge of the server rack.
The casing dented.
He struck it again.
Plastic split, exposing the circuitry inside. Luke hooked his fingers into the opening and tore until something snapped beneath his hands. The console flickered.
LOCAL DATA ARCHIVE ERROR.
A third impact bowed the server-room door inward.
Connal would be furious when he learned what Luke had done. The thought arrived with such certainty that Luke held on to the most important part.
When.
Luke wanted to be there for that fury. He wanted to see Connal’s face and hear the particular way he said Luke’s name when fear and anger tangled together.
He wanted another chance to remind the impossible fae warrior that Luke had survived dangerous situations long before Connal came crashing into his life.
The lock housing split apart.
Light cut through the widening seam around the door.
Luke dropped the ruined archive module and searched for anything he could use as a weapon. The empty storage bay had left a narrow metal brace exposed. He wrenched it free and tested its weight.
It wasn’t much.
It would have to be enough.
The server-room door buckled inward as voices surged through the gap.
The live tracking array was disconnected. The stored data was destroyed. Somewhere beyond the concrete, steel, and distance separating them, Connal had become harder to find.
That had to count.
Luke squared himself between the ruined archive and the door.
If keeping Connal safe came with a price, Luke would pay it.