"So, where are you headed?"
Atlas’s question rang softly in Dean’s ears as the latter thought about it.
"I don’t know," said Dean, catching sight of a staff member just standing outside the door, where a sign read, [Authorized Personnel Only].
"But she might know," he added, jerking his chin toward the staff member.
Slowly, Atlas moved his eyes to the staff as they approached her.
Stopping in front of her, the staff member looked up at them once and offered them a smile. She then reached for the door, opening it and stepping inside. But instead of continuing, she held the door for both men.
Atlas and Dean glanced at each other. At this point, neither of them knew how to feel. After all, stepping in could lead them to answers—or something worse. Even so, nothing was said as they walked in.
Once they were inside, the female staff closed the door behind them.
"This way, please." She motioned ahead with her hand before taking the initiative to walk in front of them.
The space behind the door was quieter, like an office in the club. Glasses lined either side of the wide hallway. On one side, they could see the kitchen cooking orders for the club. On the other side was a private lounge.
Good thing I don’t hang out in private lounges, Dean thought as he noticed a group doing more than just drinking. The scene was less than pornographic, but it was surely heading that way.
Atlas, on the other hand, just stared at them coldly before looking away. "Pathetic."
"..." Dean scrunched up his nose and glanced at the man. He chose not to say anything, but still shook his head.
Not dwelling on the brief distraction they had seen on their way, they soon reached another door.
The female staff member leading them stepped aside and lowered her head. "He’s outside."
Outside?
Atlas and Dean discreetly looked at each other. Keeping their silence, they nodded, and Dean reached for the door.
But before pulling it open, he couldn’t help but feel slightly anxious—or thrilled. Swallowing the building tension in his throat, he pushed the door open and unhesitatingly walked out.
Atlas didn’t follow quickly, making sure he wouldn’t step out before any guns were fired at Dean. After another moment passed, he finally followed.
The door led them outside the establishment, through a back entrance in a narrow alley.
The place was dark, but not dark enough to conceal the other staff standing outside, waiting for them. Nor was it dark enough for Atlas to miss the slightly wet concrete floor. The smell wasn’t pleasant, either, as the air carried a tinge of dry pee and garbage.
"Your key, sir." The male staff member standing outside, waiting for them, handed Dean a keycard.
Dean glanced down at it as he accepted it. Nothing to notice. It was just a simple keycard.
"This way, please," the male staff member spoke again, already turning to lead them to their destination.
Dean raised his brows and glanced at Atlas. He smirked at the latter for no reason, but it still made Atlas frown. With that, they followed the man until he stopped in front of what looked like a bulkhead door for the establishment.
And without a word, they continued.
Each of their steps echoed in their ears, followed by the sound of mice squeaking. Dean cautiously looked around, afraid that a mouse would suddenly appear before him, causing him to take a misstep. Atlas, on the other hand, remained calm.
No one could blame Atlas. Penny used to have all kinds of pets. Therefore, he was immune.
"Ahem!" Dean cleared his throat to distract himself. "Atlas, what do you think is waiting for us once we reach that turn?"
Atlas glanced at the end of the flight of stairs, which gave him a glimpse of the turn on the side. "If not people holding guns to kill us quietly, then I have no idea."
"Doesn’t this scare you?"
"No." His face grew stern as his eyes flickered with determination. I’m more afraid of not being able to help my sister in this lifetime.
One thing Atlas couldn’t accept after hearing that Penny was reborn and that their first life was utterly different from the current one was that he forsook her. No amount of apologies or gifts could ever correct that. Even if they managed to fix their current issue, it wouldn’t be enough for him.
Dean raised his brows, staring at Atlas’s back. "Why do you suddenly feel angry?"
No answer.
Atlas didn’t speak anymore as his heart slowed when they were a few steps from the last step. However, he continued until he was standing on the stair landing, turning to face the end of the corridor. Dean stopped a step behind him, head turned to the side.
Deep lines appeared between their brows. Unlike what they had expected, it wasn’t another long hallway. Instead, they were met with a space large enough to fit at least five people. There was a table in the middle and two wooden chairs.
On one side was a locker—a thin vault.
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