JESSI.
She pressed her forehead to the glass.
The child outside hadn't moved.
The others were still there, but at a distance now — no longer pounding, no longer calling. Just standing. Waiting. Like a mirror of everything Jessi had been holding inside.
The child had a blue jacket. Too thin. Shoes soaked. Hands curled in the sleeves like they'd tried to disappear inside them.
Jessi's fingers twitched near the window lock.
But she didn't touch it.
She sat back down. Slowly. Like sinking.
Luna rested her head on Jessi's knee, soft eyes watching.
"I'm sorry," Jessi whispered.
She didn't know who it was for — the kid, herself, her mother, Boris. All of them.
"I'm so sorry."
And then the tears came.
Not loud. Not angry.
Just broken — the kind that came from knowing you did the right thing and still hated yourself for it.
Her sobs shook in silence, muffled by the glass and the dogs and the growing roar of wind above.
Outside, the child didn't cry.
They just leaned against the door and closed their eyes.
--
JULES.
The alert blared in her earpiece before the screen caught up.
Motion detected — Panel 3, southeast perimeter.
Jules pivoted from the breaker cabinet and tapped her tablet, toggling the thermal feed.
The scout was back.
Same wiry frame, hunched lower this time. Wearing gloves now. Smarter.
He crept up to the previously sliced panel and pried it open again with a crowbar, wedged in like a lever. The moment the seal popped—
FLASH.
The flare detonated in a burst of white fire and magnesium bloom, brighter than sunrise, hotter than a match to skin.
The scout screamed.
A sharp, high sound — human, panicked, blind.
He dropped backward onto the ground, clutching his face, convulsing, kicking against the concrete.
Inside, Jules was already moving.
"Josh," she barked over comms. "We've got confirmation. Scout returned, panel tampered, trap sprung. Eyes down. They know now."
"Copy," came his voice. "How bad?"
"He's down. Might survive. Won't see for hours."
"Think they'll come for him?"
Jules checked the outer feed.
"No."
Rosie hadn't moved.
She was still standing at the edge of the camera's range, arms crossed, smiling.
"They already knew he was expendable," Jules muttered.
And inside the tower, as the lights dimmed into red-line lockdown, the last illusion that this was still a waiting game finally shattered.