Page 29 of Hollow Code
She hoped there would be. She hoped for a lot of things right now, and that was new. At least, when it came to men.
But Gideon Rhodes—legend, city boy, rock thrower, MacGyver—had done something to that math, and she wasn't entirely sorry about it.
She fired up the SxS.
He slung the rifle across his lap and settled into the seat. "And Zadie?"
"Yeah?"
"Your dad would be so proud of you."
She put the vehicle in gear because if she opened her mouth, nothing useful was going to come out of it.
Chapter Six
Gideon stared at the rock face and saw nothing but rock.
He scanned the hillside left to right, looking for a seam, a hinge, anything that didn't belong.
"You look perplexed." Zadie stood next to him, hands on her hips, and a smirk growing wider by the minute.
"On the other side of this is a house. Can’t see it from here, which I understand. But no hidden door is all that hidden." And he should know. He'd designed tiny computer components that could barely be seen. A door in the side of a rock face shouldn't be all that hard to find.
"You're looking too hard," Zadie said. She touched her palm against what looked like a natural depression in the stone, and a section of the rock face clicked and released inward.
The entire door was perfectly color-matched and flush-mounted. Seamless enough that he could have walked this hillside a hundred times and never known it was there.
"That's impressive," he said.
"Wait until you see the rest." She waved her hand in front of him. "After you."
He stepped through, and the air changed immediately. It was warm and inviting—which was surprising—and carried the faint hum of ventilation running somewhere behind the walls. The corridor was concrete, well-lit with recessed lighting, and wide enough for two people to walk side by side. It sloped downward at a gentle grade, and the further they went, the more the surface world disappeared behind them.
The scale of it hit him halfway down the corridor. Not the physical scale—though that was significant—but the scale of what it represented. The commitment. The sacrifice. These people had walked away from everything—rank, identity, the assumption that they were alive—and built something down here in the dark. Not because they wanted to, but because a man with more power than conscience had left them no other option.
Gideon had spent a little over two months alone in the woods, dismantling his own creation, telling himself he was fighting back. These people had built a resistance, and it mattered.
Behind him, the clank of the door sealing shut reminded him that he hadn't slept in a room with walls in weeks. He'd lived in small spaces before. But he'd gotten used to breathing pine and mist while sleeping under the stars.
And he'd never lived in a bunker.
They approached another open door, and two people stood at the threshold.
The woman stood with her arms loose at her sides and her weight on one hip. Her gaze seemed to be stuck on him, and he suddenly realized he was being assessed.
She was lean, athletic, and carried herself much like everyone else he knew in the military—with authority. With her dark hair pulled back, her stillness reminded Gideon of a weapon at rest—functional, precise, and not to be underestimated. But he also saw something else behind the armor. He saw humanity etched into her gaze. It was then that he realized she hadn’t been sizing him up—not even close—she’d been giving in to her own vulnerability. Her team’s vulnerability.
"You must be Gideon." She stretched out her hand. "I’m Neve Monroe. It’s nice to meet you."
"You as well."
"We’re glad you came. Truly." Neve stepped forward and gave Zadie a hug. "Glad you made it back safely. We were worried."
"It was an interesting two days, and if I never run into another enhanced person again, it would be too soon."
"Yeah, that was weird," Gideon said because he didn’t know what else to add. He was still wrapping his big brain around that one.
The man beside Neve stepped forward. He was older—mid-fifties, maybe—built like someone who'd spent a lifetime doing physical work and had no intention of stopping.
