The tal whispered under our weight. Groans and sighs echoed through the ventilation shaft as we crawled, inch by inch, into the dark. Alexis led the way, her breathing steady, posture tight. Every so often, she’d glance back to make sure I was still with her.
I was. Physically.
But my mind hadn’t left the encounter with 3830.
Her stillness. Her certainty.
That smile.
The mission that waited in her voice like a blade.
She hadn’t flinched when we ntioned 3829.
She’d already decided how this would end.
And I was starting to believe her.
Alexis paused ahead, resting her palm against a bolted seam. I caught up, exhaling quietly. My arms ached. My shoulder throbbed from the earlier collision. The vent was narrowing.
"This next bend opens near one of the west wing chambers," she whispered. "I heard they used to store wounded there."
"Used to?"
She nodded, voice quieter. "Before we got brought in and the experints accelerated. Now they isolate anyone who can’t stand after a couple hours. Less liability."
"Would that include Camille and Sienna?" I muttered, more to myself than her.
Her eyes darkened. "There’s a good chance... Camille would probably joke so much it would drive the researchers insane. Sienna would probably lose her mind thinking about what’s happening to us."
I let out a breath, just short of a curse. "We better hope neither of them’s broken enough to be discarded."
"I don’t think they are," she said. "But if they are, they’ll be in a place like this. Hidden."
A knot tightened in my stomach. I tapped into Observation, hoping for a map fragnt or ntal overlay. Nothing. The skill was barely functioning. A faint pulse from Instinct flickered—giving three options: forward, left, or reroute entirely.
Forward.
Always forward.
We crawled on, the passage compressing slightly. A vent panel scraped my shoulder. My knees slid across damp steel, catching on screws and dust seams. Sowhere beneath us, I heard the muffled hiss of pressurized doors opening—then closing.
Two floors down, I guessed. Still too close.
"Wait," Alexis hissed.
We froze.
A voice echoed faintly through the duct.
"...keep her under sedation. No more interruptions."
Footsteps retreated.
We didn’t move until the quiet held firm.
"She might be close," Alexis whispered.
I nodded. "How’s your stamina?"
She flashed a sharp look. "Ask again when we stop moving."
Another bend. Another seam. Alexis stopped again, prying open a loose grate with her fingers. Soft light spilled upward through the narrow slit. Her breath hitched.
"We’re above one of the auxiliary drooms," she whispered. "No guards. Looks like... three beds. One occupied."
My pulse spiked. "Hair color?"
"Auburn."
I didn’t wait for confirmation.
We slid the grate open and dropped down, careful not to make a sound. My boots hit tile. Alexis followed a second later, crouching beside a rack of oxygen tanks.
The room was sterile but makeshift—like soone had slapped together a triage center on short notice. Two beds were stripped bare. The third held a body curled under thin sheets.
Auburn hair. Faint freckles across the cheek.
Sienna.
I crossed the room in three steps, dropping to one knee beside her. Her face was pale. Sweat clung to her brow. One arm was wrapped in stiff gauze, the kind ant for compression, not comfort. Her other wrist bore faint bruises from restraints.
"She’s breathing," I said. Relief punched through . "Shallow, but steady."
Alexis knelt beside , already checking vitals with swift precision. Her fingers moved from Sienna’s throat to her bandaged shoulder, then to her temple.
"Low-grade fever," she murmured. "Sedative residue still in her system. Looks like they started IV treatnt and stopped halfway. Cheap stuff."
My throat clenched. "She’s stable?"
"For now. But she needs fluids. We need to get her sowhere safe before the sedative wears off."
I brushed Sienna’s hair back.
"Sienna," I whispered. "Sienna, it’s ."
Her eyelids fluttered—once, twice—fighting the fog of sedation.
Then they opened.
And for a second, she didn’t recognize .
The room fell still.
Then she did.
"...Rey...n...ard?"
Her voice was hoarse, but I could still hear the disbelief behind it. I leaned closer, smiling despite the pressure in my chest.
"I’m here. We both are. Alexis too."
Tears welled up in her eyes almost imdiately. She tried to sit up, but a grimace cracked across her face and she fell back with a soft cry.
"Don’t move," Alexis said gently, kneeling beside her on the opposite side. Her fingers hovered over Sienna’s ribs, eyes flicking back and forth as Biotric Insight stread unseen data through her mind.
"She’s been dehydrated," Alexis murmured. "Fractured rib. Probably from blunt force. Low blood sugar. But stable. Barely."
Sienna’s hand reached out and latched onto my sleeve.
"You... found ," she breathed.
"Of course I did."
Her fingers tightened like she didn’t believe it would last.
"What about Camille... or Evelyn?"
I hesitated. "Not yet. But we will. I promise."
Sienna nodded slowly, as if that answer cost her effort. Her breathing was shallow, paced with concentration. Her grip stayed clenched around mine like I’d vanish again if she let go.
Alexis stood and crossed the room toward the cabinets. She moved fast but careful, scanning labels, checking seals. Her hands didn’t shake, but I could see the tension in her shoulders.
I stayed by Sienna’s side, brushing her damp hair back from her face.
"They did so experints," she murmured. "Used needles. Chemicals. Made my skin burn. But the worst part wasn’t that."
I looked into her eyes. "What was?"
She swallowed. "Thinking about what they were doing to you. To the others."
"Stop," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "You don’t have to think about that right now. You survived. That’s what matters."
Her grip on my sleeve tightened.
"I heard your na over the intercom," she said. "They were saying today... they would remove your job title. Sothing about a process. A ’title purge.’"
"They tried." I exhaled slowly. "But I got out."
A shaky smile touched her lips. "Still arrogant."
I grinned. "Still stubborn."
Alexis returned with a few sealed syringes, two IV bags, and a roll of gauze tucked under her arm. "We can stabilize her enough to move," she said. "But we’ll need to be slow. No jostling."
I nodded. "We’ll carry her if we have to."
Sienna coughed once—sharp, controlled. "You always say that."
Alexis crouched beside her, prepping the IV. Her hands were fast, practiced. I held Sienna’s other hand while the line went in. She winced, but the color already began returning to her face as hydration trickled into her bloodstream.
Her chest rose and fell, calr now.
And just for a mont, I let myself breathe.
Then sothing clicked.
Too late.
A cold snap tore through my instincts.
The door!
Creak.
I twisted just in ti to catch the glint of a rifle and the burn of a muzzle flash.
Bang.
Pain exploded through my thigh like a firecracker under the skin. My leg folded. I crashed sideways into the ground, gasping as blood surged hot and fast through the wound.
Sienna scread.
Alexis spun instantly, shoving Sienna down behind the nearest bedfra just as a second shot slamd into the wall where my head had been a heartbeat ago. Shrapnel sprayed across the tile.
Footsteps.
Heavy. Controlled.
A guard stepped into view through the now-open doorway—helted, visor down, rifle raised in perfect stance.
Silent. Efficient. A ghost in armor.
He didn’t shout.
Didn’t hesitate.
He just leveled the barrel at my chest.
And I gritted my teeth, blood soaking my pants, pain flaring like white heat in my veins—
And prepared to move.
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