The path to the cargo wagon was worse than Trafalgar expected.
That was saying something, considering the train had already offered him sleeping gas, corpses, a storm, and enough incompetence from armed criminals to make him wonder who had planned this mess in the first place.
He and Caelum moved through the connecting passage without speaking. The stolen masks hid their faces, and the clothes they had taken from the attackers helped enough for anyone looking from a distance. The train groaned around them, its outer frame trembling each time the storm struck from the side. Somewhere ahead, metal screamed as if something important had been forced to bend.
Wonderful.
The closer they got to the cargo section, the worse the damage became.
