Harvey stood over the network map without really seeing it. His eyes drifted instinctively towards the eastern sector, towards North Greenwich, the place he knew better than some of his own memories. Around him, the station carried on with its slow, weary rhythm, people repairing pipes, counting supplies and changing guard shifts as if routine alone could keep the underground world alive.
Tomorrow would be different.
It would not be another patrol or another escort through abandoned tunnels. It would be the mission, the point beyond which there could be no return. Cole Maddox, Marcus Trenholom and Alastair McDougall would each follow separate paths, but Harvey’s route would lead him towards something far more dangerous, a forgotten entrance beneath Buckingham Palace and rumours of a place no one truly understood.
For the first time in years, the thought of leaving weighed heavily on him. Not because of fear, but because of Fiona. He wanted one more evening where the war did not exist, one last chance to hear her voice and sit beside her in the rare silence that sometimes settled between disasters.
He knew that once morning arrived, promises would mean nothing.
Somewhere beyond the abandoned tunnels, hidden beneath the ruins of London, waited rockets that could decide the fate of everyone still alive. And somewhere beyond them, according to stories whispered through the Underground for years, something else was growing in the darkness.
Harvey had accepted the mission.
Now all that remained was to walk into the unknown.
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