The hallway was an inferno.
Nell burst through the office door and into a choking cloud of smoke. Her eyes watered instantly, the sting of the acrid air burning her lungs. Heat slammed into her like a wall, crushing the air from her chest and sending a panic-stricken ripple through her body. But she didn't stop.
The server room behind her crackled and popped, cables burning like fuses. Flames licked at the ceiling tiles now, the entire floor threatening to collapse. She ducked low, one arm over her mouth, the other steady on her weapon—not for enemies now, but for doors that wouldn't open or locks that refused to cooperate.
"Nell, where are you?" Callen's voice came through her earpiece, strained, his tone sharp with urgency.
"I've got the drive," she coughed, choking on the thick, oily smoke. "Heading to the east stairwell."
"It's blocked," Sam's voice cut in, even more urgent. "Fire's already torn through it—double back if you can!"
She skidded around a corner, boots slipping on ash-coated tile. The floor beneath her groaned, a warning rumble that sent a chill of terror down her spine. The heat shimmered off the walls, the paint bubbling, lights flashing overhead in a staccato rhythm like gunshots in the distance. The air was so thick with smoke now she could barely see—her lungs burned with every breath, the world starting to warp at the edges. But she didn't stop.
Left. She turned hard, her legs screaming in protest. Right. Another sharp turn. She was nearly there, she could feel it. But the fire was everywhere now, closing in on her every step.
She rounded a corner and then, through the haze of smoke, she saw him—Callen.
He moved with a precision that came only from years of training. Weapon drawn, his eyes scanning the smoke-heavy hallway with a practiced calm. When he saw her, his whole posture shifted, urgency cutting through the controlled exterior he always wore.
"There you are," he said, his voice raw with the strain. "You're out of time—come on!"
She didn't argue. She couldn't. He grabbed her arm with a vice-like grip, hauling her forward as they ran, the roar of the fire behind them intensifying like a beast chasing them through the halls. Her legs were heavy, her breath ragged, but she kept moving—fighting every instinct telling her to stop, to collapse.
The flames were close now. Too close. The walls were blistering with heat, the ceiling groaning with the strain of the fire's rage. Callen's grip on her tightened, pulling her faster as the building around them trembled under the onslaught of the fire's fury.
Another roar of flames echoed behind them, a burst of heat that was more felt than heard. Callen didn't hesitate, pulling her even harder, practically lifting her off her feet as they ran. Nell's heart slammed against her ribcage, the sheer adrenaline pushing her forward.
They rounded the last corner—and there it was—the fire exit. The steel door open a crack, a slit of dark night air and flashing lights from outside. The sound of sirens roared in the distance, a whisper of hope.
Callen didn't slow. He shoved Nell through the door with all the force he could muster, following right after her, slamming the door behind them just as the entire hallway exploded in a violent wave of flames.
Outside, the cool air hit Nell like a wave of relief, but it didn't last long. She collapsed to her knees, coughing violently, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her hands shook so badly she could barely clutch at her vest, fumbling for the flash drive buried inside it. Finally, she pulled it free, her fingers blackened with soot, the metal warm to the touch.
Callen dropped down beside her immediately, his eyes scanning her body, checking for injuries. The firelight flickered behind them, illuminating his face as he locked onto the drive.
"You got it?" he asked, voice rough with the heat and exhaustion.
She looked up at him, her chest heaving, eyes wide but steady.
"We got it."
The fire was under control now, but the air still smelled of smoke, charred metal, and melted wiring. Red and blue lights strobed across the parking lot, painting everything in emergency hues—flashing, disorienting, unsettling. It was like the world was still burning, even if the flames had been subdued
