The darkness lasted exactly three seconds.
Then the basement door didn't open — it 'detonated' inward, splinters of wood and iron lock spinning into the black like shrapnel, and the light came with it, harsh white beams cutting through the underground air in thick columns that swept the room, catching the silver of two collars, the curve of two startled female bodies, the calm standing shape of a man who looked like he'd been waiting for this appointment for weeks.
Nano flinched backward against Sugar's arm.
Sugar's grip tightened on her wrist, her large body pressing forward in front of Nano with the instinctive, territorial move of someone who had survived enough raids to know what happened to the ones caught off guard.
Men in black tactical gear poured down the stairs, six — no, eight — fanning out in practiced formation, rifles up, lights sweeping.
Cruxius stood exactly where he was.
His hands came to both their hips.
One at Nano's side. One at Sugar's.
