I woke to the stillness of the camp, the kind of silence that pressed on the ears and made every breath sound louder than it should. A faint glow from the lanterns kept the shadows at bay, but most everyone was still asleep, bundled in their bedrolls, the exhaustion of the last few days heavy on them.
Except for two.
Near the barricaded storefront, Wei Shen's wife stood with another woman, both of them keeping watch. Mei had a blanket draped around her shoulders, her hands busy with something in the dim light. I squinted and realized she was knitting.
I checked my watch. 0200. Time to move.
I leaned over and brushed Sol's arm. He jolted awake, eyes scanning for a threat until they locked on me. I whispered, "Go wake the others."
He nodded without question, already slipping from his bedroll to do as I asked.
I rubbed my face, ran my fingers through my locks, then grabbed my kit to splash some water on my face and brush my teeth quickly. No sense going into a fight feeling like I hadn't even bothered with myself.
When I walked toward Mei, she turned with a tired expression. Her hands kept moving, looping thread over the needles.
I nodded toward it. "Knitting?"
She gave me a sheepish smile. "Something to keep my mind busy, but not so busy I fall asleep. My hands move, but my ears stay open. Otherwise…" she trailed off with a shrug.
I returned the smile with a faint nod. "Smart." Then, quieter, "Anything out of the ordinary?"
Her expression shifted, the fatigue thinning into seriousness. "Two came. A man and a woman. They said Nadia wants to meet at 0300. That Logan and Mitch should brief everyone together, so there's no… hearsay."
I exhaled through my nose, a mix of irritation and understanding. "Of course she did," I muttered. "She doesn't trust us. We don't trust her. Fair enough."
Mei hesitated, then asked, her voice low and lined with worry, "Will Lian be safe? Going with you all?"
I met her eyes, steady. "I can't promise that." I set a hand on her shoulder, squeezing once. "But she'll be stronger for it. That much I know."
She sighed, shoulders sagging, before forcing a smile and whispering, "Thank you."
"Thank you for the message," I replied, then turned toward the far end of camp. Nicole was already up, sitting with a steaming cup of coffee in her hands.
When she saw me, she smiled softly, and I felt one tug at my own lips. I crossed to her, crouching down. "Nadia sent word. She wants us at three."
Nicole rolled her eyes and set the mug down. "Of course she does." Then, standing, she raised her voice. "Everyone up. We leave in thirty minutes. If they're still asleep, wake them. Let's get a move on it."
I caught her arm before she could turn away. She looked back, confused, just in time for me to pull her in and kiss her.
For a second, she froze, surprised. Then she melted against me, returning it, and time stopped. The noise, the weight, the fear, it all bled out. It was just us.
When I pulled back, she still had her eyes closed. I leaned my forehead against hers, breathing her in.
"You know I didn't brush my teeth yet," she murmured.
I smirked. "Coffee masks it. And trust me, I've tasted worse."
She shoved me, laughing, and I let her. That sound… it loosened something in my chest I hadn't realized had gone tight.
"We got this," I told her. "I'll see you later."
She nodded, steady again, and I turned to gear up.
Black long-sleeve shirt pulled over my head. My biker vest, scavenged from a shop and smelling faintly of old leather, went on next. Black cargo pants—already filled with throwing knives, a packet of bandages, bear spray, and brass knuckles—hugged my legs as I stepped into them. I laced up my combat boots tightly, double-knotting for security. My holsters, strapped to my hips, held Whisper and Echo, my pistols. Finally, I buckled on Silent Fang, my knife, its weight familiar at my side.
I felt ready. I hoped everyone else was too.
The first floor was dead quiet. Too quiet.
Bloodstains smeared the tiles, drying into brown-black streaks. Ripped clothes lay abandoned, caught on broken glass that glittered in the dim light. The silence pressed down like a weight, broken only by the faint hum of the escalators.
I stood at the bottom, hand resting on Silent Fang, eyes sweeping the shadows. Waiting. Listening.
That's when I heard it, light footsteps, too careful to be goblins. My head tilted, breath held, counting the rhythm. Two sets. Coming from the right.
I pressed my back against a pillar, body stilling, every sense sharp.
Closer.
The faint creak of shoes on steel. The hum of the escalator shifted as weight moved across it.
I glanced around the pillar and saw them.
Logan first, his face a mask of iron, jaw clenched so tight I thought his teeth might crack. Mitch beside him, smaller frame taut, his head bowed. He looked… rattled. Shaken in a way I hadn't seen since the start.
I stepped out of hiding. "Logan. Mitch."
Mitch jerked with a sharp inhale, eyes wide. Logan swung his rifle up, barrel snapping toward me before recognition flickered in his eyes. He lowered it immediately, muttering something under his breath.
"You two okay?" I asked.
Logan's voice was flat, clipped. "We finished the scouting." That was it. No extra words, no softness, just a soldier giving a report.
Mitch said nothing. Just kept his head low, shoulders hunched, hands trembling at his sides.
I nodded slowly. "Everyone's meeting here. You'll brief us together."
Logan gave a curt nod and started down the escalator again. His boots hit the bottom with a steady, unshaken rhythm. He went to the very pillar I'd hidden behind and leaned against it, arms crossed, rifle hanging loose but ready.
Mitch moved to follow, but I stepped into his path.
He finally looked at me.
His eyes were red, rimmed with exhaustion and something deeper: fear, grief, maybe both. For a second, I saw the mask crack, the boy under the hardened act.
I didn't say anything. Just pulled him into me.
And Mitch broke.
His body shook as sobs tore out, muffled against my shoulder. His fists bunched in my shirt, clutching like he needed something solid to hold onto before he drowned.
I held him tighter, jaw set, keeping my own face hard. Whatever he saw down here had left its mark. Whatever it was, we'd all be carrying it soon enough.