The pounding on the door intensified, each slam shaking the room. Zara quickly scanned the space, her mind working at breakneck speed. The dossier lay open on the table, revealing maps, notes, and a chilling directive: Lure the rogue agents.
"This was never about the beacon," she muttered. "They wanted us here."
Rowan, still bracing the door, glanced over his shoulder. "Any bright ideas before they break through?"
Zara grabbed the beacon and the file, stuffing them into her bag. "There's a ventilation shaft above. It's tight, but we can fit."
Rowan scoffed. "Perfect. Trapped like rats."
"Got a better plan?" Zara shot back.
With no time to argue, she climbed onto the table, unholstered her gun, and shot the bolts securing the vent. Rowan followed as the door began to buckle. They scrambled into the narrow shaft, the growls of the infected echoing behind them.
Crawling through the dark passage, Zara whispered, "Whoever set this up knows us too well. They're tracking our every move."
"Then we need to turn the tables," Rowan replied.
They dropped into another corridor, quieter but no less menacing. Zara pulled out the beacon, studying its interface. "If I can reprogram this, we can send them false signals—throw them off."
Rowan kept watch, his gun ready. "And then what? This doesn't end until we take them out."
Zara nodded. "First, we survive. Then, we strike."
The sound of distant footsteps spurred them into action. Together, they vanished into the labyrinth, shadows blending into the darkness.