Dawn broke in fragments.
Thin light seeped through fractured concrete and twisted metal, illuminating dust particles drifting in the stagnant air. The world above was waking—if such a word still applied to a civilization long past collapse. For Thomas, the morning carried no comfort. Only inevitability.
They had chosen action.
And action, once chosen, demanded commitment.
Mira reviewed the map one last time, fingers tracing routes with military precision. "We move toward the old broadcast tower," she said. "High visibility. Open terrain. Multiple approach vectors."
Rea's jaw tightened. "That place is a magnet."
"Exactly," Elisa replied calmly. "If we want to draw them out, we don't hide."
Thomas listened without interruption. He had expected resistance—more arguments, more attempts to dissuade him. Instead, he sensed something else now.
Acceptance.
Not agreement. Not comfort.
But acknowledgment of reality.
"I'll take point," Thomas said.
Rea reacted instantly. "No."
Mira raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
"I won't be reckless," Thomas continued. "But if this works, they need to see me. Not just hear rumors."
Elisa studied him carefully. "You're aware that once you're seen, there's no undoing it."
"I know," Thomas replied. "That's why I'm doing it."
Rea looked away, struggling to restrain herself. Her instincts screamed at her to pull him back, to shield him, to lock him away from a world that wanted to consume him. But she had felt the shift already.
He wasn't hers to hide.
He was someone choosing to stand.
They moved out shortly after.
The broadcast tower rose above the ruins like a skeletal monument, its steel frame scarred but intact. Surrounding streets were open—too open. Perfect lines of sight. Perfect kill zones.
Mira positioned them with ruthless efficiency. Elisa disappeared into elevation, taking overwatch. Rea stayed close to Thomas, not clinging—but alert, coiled like a drawn blade.
Thomas stepped forward into the open.
The exposure was immediate.
He felt it—the weight of unseen eyes, the pressure of attention snapping toward him like a predator's focus. Somewhere, someone was watching. Recording. Reporting.
Minutes passed.
Then movement.
A patrol emerged from the eastern block. Armored. Disciplined. The same faction as before.
Mira's voice was low in Thomas's earpiece. "They took the bait."
"Let them see me," Thomas replied.
He didn't raise a weapon. Didn't hide.
He stood.
The patrol stopped at range. Weapons raised—but not fired.
A woman stepped forward, clearly their leader. Her posture was confident, her gaze calculating. She assessed Thomas not as a threat—but as a commodity.
"Male," she called out. "Uninfected. Confirmed."
The word echoed in the empty streets.
Rea stiffened beside him.
Thomas met the woman's gaze without flinching.
"Yes," he said calmly.
The leader smiled. "You're valuable. You shouldn't be wandering unprotected."
"I'm not unprotected," Thomas replied.
That was the signal.
The fight was sharp, controlled, deliberate. Mira engaged from cover. Elisa neutralized flanks before they could reposition. Rea moved with lethal precision, never straying far from Thomas—but not shielding him either.
This time, Thomas fought visibly.
He didn't retreat. He didn't cower.
When it was over, the patrol lay incapacitated—not slaughtered.
Thomas stood amid the aftermath, breathing steady.
"Message delivered," Elisa said over comms.
Mira approached the patrol leader, restraining her. "They'll report this."
"They'll exaggerate," Elisa added. "Fear travels faster than truth."
Rea turned to Thomas, eyes burning with emotion. "You could have been killed."
"I wasn't," he said quietly.
"That's not the point."
He met her gaze. "It is to me."
She searched his face, conflicted, torn between pride and terror. Finally, she exhaled slowly, forcing herself to step back.
"I hate this," she admitted.
"I know," Thomas replied. "But I need you with me—not over me."
The words hurt.
But they also landed.
They moved quickly after that, relocating before reinforcements could arrive. The city buzzed now—movement in distant streets, drones overhead, signals rippling outward.
Thomas had been seen.
There was no going back.
They reached a secondary hideout by dusk. Temporary. Barely defensible.
Mira addressed them bluntly. "They'll respond within forty-eight hours. Maybe less."
Elisa leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "They won't send patrols this time. They'll send negotiators—or hunters."
"Either way," Thomas said, "they'll focus on me."
Rea's voice was low. "And that makes you a target."
"It makes me leverage," Thomas corrected.
Silence followed.
Mira studied him carefully. "You're thinking beyond survival now."
"I have to," Thomas replied. "If I stay reactive, I die eventually. If I'm proactive… I change the board."
Elisa smiled faintly. "You're learning."
That night, tension lingered thick and unresolved.
Rea sat near Thomas, close but not touching. Her presence was restrained, controlled, but no less intense.
"You scared me today," she said quietly.
"I know."
She hesitated, then spoke again. "If you disappear… if they take you…"
"They won't," Thomas said gently.
"That's not certainty," she replied. "That's hope."
He turned to face her fully. "Then trust me."
She met his gaze, vulnerability flickering beneath her fierce exterior. Slowly, she nodded.
"I'll try," she said.
Across the room, Elisa watched the exchange with unreadable eyes.
Mira remained at the entrance, vigilant as ever.
As Thomas lay awake later, staring at the cracked ceiling, he understood the cost of what he'd done.
Visibility brought power.
Power brought desire.
And desire—whether for control, possession, or survival—always demanded payment.
Tomorrow, the world would respond.
And when it did, Thomas intended to be ready.