LOGINKael's povThe elevator didn’t shudder like I expected.It moved smoothly, reverently like it was afraid of her.Numbers climbed along the panel, but the floors weren’t labeled. They hadn’t been, even back then. The Council didn’t believe in naming places where they erased people. Names made things harder to forget.Maia’s grip on my hand stayed firm, but I could feel the tremor in her fingers now that the doors were closed. Alone. Contained. Ascending.“This is where it happened,” she said softly.Not a question.I nodded. “The core’s three levels up. This shaft feeds straight into the neural wing.”She swallowed. I felt it through her hand, like an echo traveling up my arm and into my chest.“I remember the walls,” she murmured. “I don’t remember what they did to me inside them.”“That’s not an accident.”The lights inside the elevator shifted from warm to sterile white. Thin lines of text began to scroll across the mirrored surface of the doors, system diagnostics, authorization pi
Kael's povThe blackout didn’t last long.Emergency lights shuddered awake overhead, thin red strips lining the hallway like old scars. Ryn groaned beside me, clutching his ribs. Kieran checked the corners for exits. He always did that when he was afraid, and he was terrified now.Maia stood in front of the elevator panel, unreadable, her fingers curled into tight fists at her sides. She didn’t look back at us. She didn’t need to.The air felt wrong. Too thick. Like the building recognized her.“Maia,” I said, softer than I meant to. “Talk to us before the system wakes up fully.”She didn’t turn. “If I talk, I’ll second-guess it.”“And if you don’t?” Ryn asked. “You’ll walk straight into the data choke point without a tether.”“That’s the point,” she said.I felt something cold settle under my ribs. A familiar feeling. The kind I used to get back when we worked together in the city, long before any of this. Back when she’d walk into a meeting with Council executives and pretend she ha
Kael's povWe moved before the sun had fully risen, because dawn wasn’t safety. Dawn was surveillance. Dawn was when the city woke with the Council’s eyes wide open.Kieran slipped out first, checking blind corners and mapping heat signatures. Ryn followed, slower but steady, wincing every few steps. Maia waited until last, and I stayed behind her like gravity itself was pulling me in that direction.The air outside the safehouse was cold enough to bite, fog hanging low over the cracked pavement. Every sound felt too loud. Every shadow felt inhabited.None of it compared to the tension threading through the four of us.We moved in silence for three blocks before Maia finally spoke.“Kael,” she said without turning.“Yes.”“What Aeron said yesterday…” Her voice didn’t break. Maia never broke. But something softened—just around the edges. “About memories.”My chest tightened. “You think he remembers everything?”“No,” she said. “Not yet. But he remembers pieces. And pieces are dangerous
Kael's povThe city shifted around us after Aeron vanished.Not physically, no explosions but in that subtle, bone-deep way you feel when a predator leaves the clearing and the forest doesn’t quite trust the silence that follows.None of us spoke for several blocks.Maia walked ahead, jaw set, spine straight, like movement itself was the only thing keeping her from splintering. Kieran stayed close to the periphery, scanning, rerouting, erasing our wake as we went. Ryn limped between us, bleeding through a hastily wrapped sleeve, pride the only thing keeping him upright.And me?I was rewinding everything Aeron had said.You’d do it again.The worst part was how close that came to the truth.We reached a safehouse just before dawn, one I’d never logged, never tagged, never even shared with Kieran until now. An old administrative annex disguised as low-income housing, forgotten by upgrades and ignored by surveillance. I keyed the door manually and ushered them inside.Once the locks eng
Kael's povWe didn’t get far before the city reminded us who it belonged to.The fail corridor spat us out into a freight artery that should have been abandoned, should have been empty but nothing stayed empty once the Council decided you were worth hunting. Floodlights blazed to life overhead, washing the steel walls in white so harsh it made my eyes sting.“Down,” I ordered.Maia reacted instantly, pulling Ryn with her behind a cargo lift as rounds sparked off metal where our heads had been a second earlier. Kieran returned fire without hesitation, precise bursts meant to create space, not body counts.Ryn stumbled, breath ragged.He was worse off than he’d let on.Of course he was.“I can keep moving,” he rasped, trying to straighten.Maia didn’t look at him. She just tightened her grip on his arm and hauled him forward with grim efficiency.That cut deeper than if she’d yelled at him.We ran.Through screaming alarms and screaming systems, through corridors I’d helped design for c
Kael's povThe fail corridor smelled like dust and old electricity like something buried and forgotten on purpose.We moved fast and silent, boots barely scraping the concrete as emergency lights pulsed dim red overhead. This place hadn’t been used in years. That was my doing. I’d signed the decommission papers myself, buried beneath layers of budget denials and shifting priorities. The Council thought it obsolete.They never imagined I’d need it to break one of their own prisons open.Maia walked ahead of me now, weapon firm in her hand, posture sharp and lethal in a way that had nothing to do with training alone. Pain had refined her. Betrayal had burned away hesitation.She didn’t look back.That was worse than anger.Kieran brought up the rear, muttering updates under his breath, fingers dancing across his wrist console as he ghosted cameras and rerouted sensors. “Ryn’s being held in Sublevel Nine,” he said. “Interrogation wing. They’ve got him restrained but conscious.”Maia’s st







