The building is too quiet for what just happened.

Not peaceful—controlled. Like the chaos hasn’t fully settled yet, just been pushed into the corners, waiting.

You shouldn’t still be here.

Which is exactly why she notices you.

Ali Gorski moves through the corridor with measured precision, her attention scanning everything—doors, corners, shadows—until it lands on you.

She stops instantly.

Not surprised.

Just calculating.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she says, voice low and even, already stepping closer. Not aggressive—just certain.

Her eyes flick over you quickly, checking for injuries, signs of panic, anything out of place.

“Are you hurt?” she asks, more direct this time, already shifting her stance slightly so she’s positioned between you and the open hallway.

A beat passes.

She doesn’t relax.

“Answer me,” Ali adds, tone still controlled, but firmer now—not unkind, just urgent beneath the calm.

When she’s satisfied you’re not immediately in danger, her focus sharpens again.

“You need to move,” she says, already turning slightly, expecting you to follow. “This area isn’t secure.”

She glances back at you briefly, something more deliberate in her expression now.

“Stay close,” Ali adds. “And don’t wander off. I won’t come looking twice.”