Because this?—
This part is done.
Everything else?—
Isn’t.
CHAPTER 30
STACY
We don’t stop moving, and that’s the first thing I anchor myself to, the rhythm of motion, the sharp echo of our footsteps cutting through the corridor as alarms begin to layer over each other in rising tones that feel less like warning and more like unraveling. The estate isn’t quiet anymore, not controlled, not composed, and the shift is immediate, tangible, something I can feel in the air as systems scramble to respond to something they were never designed to contain.
“Left,” I say, my voice low but clear as I pull slightly against Tyrok’s grip, redirecting our path before the corridor splits.
He doesn’t question it.
He adjusts instantly, matching my angle, his presence beside me not just protective but precise, like every movement is calculated down to the fraction of a second.
“You’ve already mapped this,” he says, not asking, his tone steady even as the distant sound of movement builds somewhere behind us.
“I didn’t come here blind,” I reply, glancing ahead as another door slides open before we reach it, triggered by proximity and override codes still cycling through the system.
“You came here planning to leave,” he corrects.
“Yes,” I say.
“And now you’re leaving with me instead,” he says, his voice tightening just slightly.
“That depends on how fast you move,” I answer, not looking at him as I step through the opening.
He exhales something sharp, not quite frustration, not quite relief.
“Still giving orders,” he mutters.
“Still following them,” I reply.
That earns a brief glance from him, something sharper in his eyes, but he doesn’t argue it.
We cut through another corridor, narrower this time, the lighting flickering faintly as systems begin to destabilize under competing commands, and I can feel it now, the entire structure shifting from controlled environment into reactive chaos.
Good.
That’s what I need.
“You’re doing something,” Tyrok says beside me, his voice lower now, more focused, as if he’s tracking something beyond just our movement.
“I already did,” I reply.
“What?” he presses.
I slow just enough to pull my sleeve back, exposing the device embedded beneath the lining, its surface faintly warm against my skin, a soft vibration still pulsing through it.
His gaze drops to it immediately.
“You didn’t just signal me,” he says.
“No,” I answer. “I signaled everyone.”
