“The vault’s new security system is online,” Declan says, pointing to the chequered tiles.
“But...how do we cross without triggering it?” Octavia asks.
“There’s a safe path over—the technician wrote it down.” He hands Octavia a sticky note, her brows furrow.
“Huh? This handwriting’s atrocious.”
“It’s easy. Watch.”
Declan hops onto a tile, then navigates: left, forward, forward, right, forward, forward. He’s almost at the opposite end. “Another left and—”
“No, right!” Octavia yells, decoding the scribble.
Declan veers left. “Nope. I told—”
Crackling. Screams. Thud.
A charred-pork stench.
Octavia sighs, crumpling the note. “He never listens to me.”
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