Liam stayed where he was, half hidden in the shadows of the subway wall, his eyes fixed ahead while his mind worked quietly. The tunnel smelled like rust, oil and something older beneath it all, something stale that clung to the back of his throat. He had just begun to catch pieces of the conversation inside when a sudden rush of wind brushed past him.
It was sharp and fast enough to make his coat flutter.
He frowned.
By the time he turned his head, Sergei and Mikhail were already gone, their figures nothing but blurs charging toward the source of the light deeper in the tunnel.
Liam's jaw tightened.
Idiots.
If they had waited ten more seconds he would have heard more. He had just begun to piece together the tone of the voices, the weight behind them. It was not a casual gathering. There was hierarchy in that room. There was tension.
Now it was ruined.
