Darkness didn't last long.
It never does.
Not when something else is trying to take its place.
The lights didn't come back on all at once. They flickered slow, uneven like the building itself was struggling to decide who was in control. One by one, dim strips of white light returned, casting long shadows across the floor.
Camille was gone.
Not hidden.
Not obscured.
Gone.
Dante stood exactly where he had been when the lights cut out, his eyes already scanning every corner, every reflection, every possible exit.
Nothing.
No movement.
No trace.
Just absence.
The girl exhaled slowly, her chest tight. "She didn't run."
Dante didn't answer.
Because he knew.
Camille hadn't run.
She had left.
And there was a difference.
A dangerous one.
"She phased through the system," the girl continued, stepping toward one of the screens. "Or something close to it."
Dante's jaw tightened.
"Meaning?"
"Meaning she didn't need a door."
Silence.
That tracked.
Too well.
