The truck rolled through the fog like a ghost, headlights cutting across endless miles of cracked asphalt and farmland. Lyra didn't know how long they'd been driving. Minutes blurred into hours. Sleep tugged at her, but her nerves kept her awake.
Vega drove in silence, her eyes fixed on the road, cigarette smoke curling from the open window. Damien sat beside her, watching the dark horizon with that same razor-sharp focus he never seemed to lose.
Lyra finally broke the silence. "Where are we going?"
Vega flicked ash out the window. "Safehouse. Couple miles past the old quarry. No one finds it unless I want them to."
Damien glanced back at Lyra. "It's secure. You'll be safe there."
She frowned. "You keep saying that. But every time you do, someone ends up shooting at us."
Vega laughed — a low, humorless sound. "She's got a point, Cole."
Damien didn't reply.
Lyra leaned against the cold window, staring at the streaks of fog. The world outside felt suspended — too quiet, too empty. "How do you two know each other?"
"Used to work the same jobs," Vega said. "Different departments, same devil."
Lyra's stomach twisted. "You mean the Syndicate."
Vega nodded. "Yeah. Until Damien decided he'd grown a conscience."
"Careful," he said softly, voice edged with warning.
Vega smirked. "Relax. If I wanted to sell you out, I would've done it before picking you up."
Lyra glanced at Damien. "You trust her?"
He hesitated. "I trust that she hates the Syndicate more than she hates me."
"That's comforting," Lyra muttered.
Vega gave her a side glance. "You're brave, kid. Or stupid. Not sure which yet."
Lyra met her gaze, unflinching. "Maybe both."
Vega chuckled. "You'll fit right in."
---
They arrived just before dawn. The "safehouse" wasn't much of a house at all — a converted warehouse sitting at the edge of a forest, hidden by overgrown brush and rusted fencing.
Inside, it was surprisingly modern — steel walls reinforced with locks, an underground bunker hidden beneath the floorboards, and cameras on every corner.
"Welcome home," Vega said dryly, tossing her keys onto the table.
Lyra walked through the main room, running her fingers along the dusty metal shelves stacked with weapons and files. "You live here?"
"On and off," Vega said. "When I'm not pretending to be dead."
Damien dropped his bag near the couch. "We won't stay long. Just until we regroup."
Vega raised an eyebrow. "Regroup? You mean until they find you again?"
Damien shot her a glare, but said nothing.
Lyra sat on the edge of the couch, exhaustion pulling at her bones. The air smelled faintly of oil and dust. "So what's the plan?"
Damien leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "We need to decode the files I took. There's a list — names, transactions, evidence — but it's encrypted. Once we unlock it, we'll have leverage."
Vega smirked. "Leverage? You mean a death sentence."
Damien ignored her. "There's someone in the city who can help us crack it — a hacker named Sable. But reaching him means going back into Chicago."
Lyra straightened. "You said we couldn't go back."
"I said it wasn't safe," Damien replied. "But it's necessary."
Vega shook her head. "You're insane. You just escaped and now you want to waltz back in? The Syndicate will have your face on every camera feed."
"I'll handle it."
Vega studied him, then looked at Lyra. "You sure you want to follow this guy back into the fire?"
Lyra met Damien's eyes — the same eyes that had pulled her into this chaos, the same ones that made her feel alive even when everything else burned.
"Yes," she said. "I'm sure."
Vega sighed. "God help you both."
---
They stayed underground for most of the day. Damien spread files across the table — names, bank codes, and half-burned documents from a hard drive. Lyra sat beside him, helping where she could, her fingers brushing his occasionally.
The tension between them hadn't faded; if anything, it had deepened. Every time their eyes met, it felt like the air in the room changed.
At one point, Vega appeared in the doorway, watching them. "You two planning a revolution or a romance?"
Lyra flushed. "Maybe both."
Vega grinned. "Dangerous answer."
"Seems fitting," Damien muttered without looking up.
---
That evening, Vega disappeared to make calls, leaving Lyra and Damien alone. The safehouse was quiet except for the hum of old fluorescent lights.
Lyra finally broke the silence. "What happens when you finish decoding that list?"
He didn't look up. "Then we expose them. Or we disappear forever. Whichever keeps you breathing."
"You talk like you've already decided you won't make it out."
He paused, then finally looked at her. "Because I probably won't."
Lyra's throat tightened. "Don't say that."
"Lyra, I know what the Syndicate does to traitors. I've seen it."
"Then don't be one," she said softly. "Be something else."
He stared at her for a long time, something unreadable in his eyes. "You always see what you want to see, don't you?"
"Maybe," she said. "But I see you."
That broke something in him. He reached for her hand, his touch trembling just slightly. "You shouldn't."
She smiled faintly. "It's too late."
---
Hours later, after Damien finally fell asleep on the couch, Lyra wandered into the hallway. The quiet pressed around her, heavy and watchful. She should have been resting — but something about this place didn't sit right.
She noticed a faint light glowing under one of the steel doors at the end of the hall. Vega's office.
Curiosity tugged at her. She hesitated, then slowly pushed the door open.
Inside, Vega sat at a computer, screens flickering with live feeds — surveillance footage, maps, lists of names.
Lyra stepped closer, eyes scanning the screens. "You're watching them?"
Vega didn't turn. "I'm watching everyone."
Lyra frowned. "Including us?"
Vega's fingers stilled on the keyboard. "You don't survive this long by trusting anyone."
Lyra's pulse quickened. "You're tracking Damien."
"I'm tracking the problem," Vega corrected. "And right now, that problem includes you."
Lyra's chest tightened. "You helped us."
"I helped him because he had something I need," Vega said, finally turning. "That list could wipe out half the Syndicate's network — and the rest of my enemies with it."
"So you're using him."
"I'm protecting my interests. There's a difference."
Lyra took a step forward. "If you turn on him—"
"Relax, kid." Vega's smirk returned, sharp as a blade. "I'm not your enemy. But if Damien screws this up, I won't hesitate to finish what they started."
Lyra stared at her. "You talk like you don't care if he dies."
"I care if he fails," Vega said. "Big difference."
Lyra felt the floor tilt beneath her. Everything Damien had said about trust — about how this world worked — suddenly made sense. No one here had clean hands.
She turned to leave, but Vega's voice stopped her.
"Be careful, Lyra. Loving a man like him?" Vega said. "It's like holding a match over gasoline. You might think you can control it — but in the end, everything burns."
---
Lyra couldn't sleep after that. She lay awake, watching the shadows crawl across the ceiling.
When Damien stirred beside her hours later, she whispered, "Vega's not on your side."
He didn't even sound surprised. "I know."
Lyra blinked. "Then why trust her?"
"Because she wants what I want — for now. That's enough."
"Damien, she said she'd let you die if it helped her."
He sat up, his expression unreadable. "Everyone in this world would."
She looked at him — the bruises under his eyes, the exhaustion etched into his face — and realized he wasn't just running from the Syndicate. He was running from himself.
"Then let me be different," she said quietly.
He looked at her for a long time, then reached out, tracing his thumb along her jaw. "You already are."
---
By morning, Vega returned with new information. "I found Sable. He's still in Chicago. But the Syndicate's locked the city down tight. If you go back, you'll be walking straight into a trap."
Damien stood, sliding his gun into his holster. "Then we'll walk carefully."
Vega frowned. "You'll need new IDs, new faces, and a miracle. I can get you the first two."
Lyra stepped forward. "And the miracle?"
Vega smiled faintly. "That's up to you, sweetheart."
---
As they prepared to leave, Lyra caught Vega's reflection in the mirror — cold, calculating, and unreadable. She realized the woman wasn't lying earlier. Vega didn't care who survived, only who won.
Damien caught her staring and murmured, "Don't let her get in your head."
Lyra nodded, but the thought stayed with her.
Because deep down, she already knew Vega was right.
She'd fallen for a man surrounded by fire — and she was already burning.
---