[From
here.]
Thank god, this hallway was deserted. Much better than the drama that was going on behind them. Byrne stopped for a moment to take a good look around. This time there was more of a difference between the layouts of the different floors. He could see only one open hallway from where he was standing; a door was positioned where a hallway
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Once they were upstairs, Ema sidestepped away from the door and waited for Lana to direct them--or for Lana or Morgan to give their thoughts on her question or comment on something else entirely. As much as she would have liked to lead them all onward, Ema was a poor choice for the front of their party. She was likely the most poorly armed, was definitely the most blind, and didn't know where the upstairs files were even stored.
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Mello fully intended to get a look at those files, too, when the opportunity presented itself, and he deliberately fought down a flare of hope that said the files up here really might turn out more useful, given that their falsified counterparts were already accounted for. He didn't reach back to touch the gun in his waistband, as he sometimes did to remind himself he wasn't as powerless as the bastards in charge wanted him to feel, but he was acutely aware of its press against the small of his back, and swore again he'd deliver those two bullets, not least to make them pay for having cost him his optimism.
"This is my eleventh night." He frowned as he said it, forced once again to think of how little real progress he'd made towards escaping, and turned away so neither woman would see, starting down the hallway off this main one.
[to here]
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