Matthews sprinted through the empty corridors of the Red Brotherhood base, alarms blaring in his ears. The lights flickered violently, casting eerie shadows across the walls as explosions rumbled from deep within the structure.
“Five minutes until total detonation,” the automated voice declared over the tannoy, cold and emotionless.
Matthews gritted his teeth, pushing his body to its limits. His muscles burned, but he couldn’t afford to slow down. Not with the entire base about to go up in flames. Ajax had escaped, and with him, Colter, but if Matthews didn’t make it back to the transport in time, none of that would matter. He’d be dead along with the base.
He rounded a corner and felt the floor shudder beneath him as another explosion rocked the structure. Dust and debris rained down from the ceiling, coating the corridor in a thin layer of dust. He kept running, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he neared the hangar bay.
Ahead, the heavy doors to the hangar came into view, and the transport was waiting—its engines already powered up and humming. Matthews could see Clarke, Carbin, and the others had gathered at the ramp, waving him forward.
“Matthews! Hurry up!” Clarke shouted, his voice barely audible over the deafening alarms and distant explosions.
The ground beneath him trembled again, sending him stumbling forward, but he regained his balance and pushed on. Every second counted. Carbin stood at the top of the ramp urging him on. The transport’s engines were primed and ready, the ship vibrating with the power of its imminent departure.
