Every step echoes too loudly, my boots striking the reinforced flooring in sharp, frantic rhythm as I sprint through the emergency access tunnel. The lighting flickers overhead, alternating between harsh white and dim amber as the system struggles to keep up with the chaos bleeding in from the arena. Somewhere behind me, the proto-beast roars again, the sound distorted through layers of steel and distance but still powerful enough to claw straight into my spine.
“Come on,” I whisper to myself, breath tearing in and out of my lungs. “Come on, come on, come on?—”
The tunnel curves.
The air shifts.
Less dust, more sterilized air—cleaner, cooler, but threaded now with the sharp bite of fear. Voices echo ahead. Shouts. Orders. The clipped urgency of security teams trying to impose structure on something that is rapidly unraveling.
I burst out of the corridor and into the compound perimeter.
It’s controlled chaos.
Security personnel flood the area, herding contestants, staff, and civilians toward evacuation points. Emergency lights strobealong the walls, painting everything in pulses of red and white. Somewhere a siren wails, high and relentless.
“Move to the transport lanes!” someone shouts.
“Stay together!”
“Keep the exits clear!”
I don’t slow down.
“Daycare!” I call out, grabbing the arm of a passing guard. “Where’s the daycare evac?”
He jerks his head toward the far wing.
“Sector C—hurry!”
I don’t waste another second.
I run.
My legs burn, lungs screaming, but I don’t feel any of it properly. Adrenaline has turned everything into a narrow tunnel of focus, stripping away anything that doesn’t serve the single, desperate goal driving me forward.
Jesse.
The word beats in my chest like a second heartbeat.
Jesse.
The corridor to the daycare wing is packed.
Parents, contestants, staff—everyone moving in tight, frantic clusters, voices overlapping in a rising tide of fear.
“My daughter—where is she?”
“They said they’re bringing them out?—”
“Stay calm, please?—”
I push through.
“Excuse me—move—please?—”
A hand grabs my arm.
“Tilda!”
