After the weird encounter with the soldier, Winter was more than convinced to check in on Zara and Leo.
He waited till the lights went out in his dorm before taking off.
Earlier that day, Winter had caught a glimpse of her building during orientation—marked "Family Sector B." He'd memorised the door pattern and counted the floors when they were led past it. After lights-out, he'd traced it back using the same route the escort had taken, matching steps, windows, vents. Risky? Absolutely. But he'd take risk over regret any day.
Winter moved like a shadow through the service stairwell, boots silent on the concrete steps. The air was still—not dead, not polluted, just… still. It was eerie how clean everything felt.
The walls gleamed under flickering fluorescents. The stairwell didn't stink. No rot, no mold, not even damp. Just antiseptic emptiness.
