(Romancing the Beat – "Adhesion")
Here's the thing about plans: they sound way better when you whisper them over stolen canned beans inside a rusted-out hover van with sparks in the wiring and what might be moldy socks hanging from the ceiling.
"Step one," Not-Lyra says—who I now know is actually named Renna, because of course she has a rebel-cool name that sounds like a battle cry. "We steal an access card from Central Processing."
"Easy," I say. "Just waltz into a top-security vault guarded by killer drones and emotionally repressed cyborgs. No biggie."
She rolls her eyes. "You'll be the distraction."
Of course I will. I have Distractible Dumbface written all over me.
We're crouched in the back of a stolen maintenance van. One of those old government-issued ones with fading logos and a suspicious stain on the wall that I'm not going to investigate.
Outside? Thunderstorm. Because nature also wanted drama today.
Renna's sprawled on a pile of old jackets, fiddling with her wrist comm and mumbling, "Come on, Lark, pick up, you greasy little techno-wizard…"
"Lark?" I ask.
"My hacker. Well, a hacker. Also my ex."
I blink. "Oh. Romantic ex?"
She shrugs. "Define romantic."
Oh boy.
I lean against the wall. It groans like it's ready to fall apart. Same, wall. Same.
"So," I say, "remind me why you dragged me into this?"
She doesn't look up. "Because you were on the list. Your file said 'classified level blue, psychologically compatible with emotional rebellion.' That's rare."
"Wait," I say, "I was chosen because I'm emotionally unstable?"
"Basically."
Rude.
Also, accurate.
She finally gets a ping. Her wrist comm lights up. Static. Then a voice crackles through:
"Renna, what the hell did you do now?"
"Lark!" she grins, like this isn't the worst time to have a casual hacker call.
"I need credentials. And a retinal bypass code. Also, if you can destabilize the vault's drone system, I'll buy you lunch."
"Can you buy me not dying?" Lark replies.
Renna winks at me. "I'll try."
Honestly, I'm not sure if I want to punch her or marry her. There's no in-between.
---
Twelve hours later
We're parked three blocks from Central Processing. Rain slaps the windshield. It's late, dark, and the city hums with that eerie, dystopian vibe that screams corporate overlord with daddy issues.
I'm in a stolen uniform two sizes too small. Renna's wearing a sleek black suit she claims was "liberated" from a former commander. She looks terrifying. And hot. It's deeply unfair.
"You ready?" she asks, checking the tracker clipped behind my ear.
"Nope," I reply. "But I'm committed to the bit now."
She grins. "That's the spirit."
We split.
She vanishes down an alley, shadow-silent. I head toward the main entrance, where two guards look like they haven't smiled since the great sarcasm ban of 2142.
I flash my fake ID and say, "Delivery for the Supreme Administrator's nutritional supplements."
One guard raises an eyebrow. "At midnight?"
"He's got digestion issues," I say. "It's tragic."
Somehow… it works.
They scan my badge.
Let me through.
I'm in.
Step One: Complete.
Only mildly sweating.
Renna's voice crackles in my ear. "Good job, Decoy. Now distract the security node."
"What does that mean?"
"Push random buttons. Make noise. Pretend to be clumsy."
"Ah," I say. "My natural state."
I march into the atrium and immediately knock over a stack of storage bins. Plastic crashes to the floor.
"Oops!" I shout. "Gravity, you cruel mistress!"
A nearby tech stares at me. I grin. Wave. Knock over a coffee cup.
Perfect chaos.
Meanwhile, Renna slips past the cameras, deactivates the drone dock, and climbs a wall like an angry ballerina.
I stall for five glorious minutes by pretending I have to pee and arguing with a vending machine that only takes retina scans. (You'd be surprised how far desperation can go.)
Finally, I hear her whisper, "Got it. Meet me at the west exit."
I bolt.
Guards shout. Drones buzz. One of them throws a clipboard at me like that'll stop my Olympic-level panic sprint.
Renna's waiting by the back door.
She tosses me a stun grenade. "For flair."
We toss it behind us as the door slams shut.
BOOM.
Screams. Alarms. My heart having a full identity crisis.
We run.
Back through the alley. Through a service hatch. Into the sewer again, because apparently all of our bonding moments must happen in underground poop tunnels.
---
Later. Back at the van.
We collapse. Soaked. Out of breath. Alive.
I peel off my boots. "That was awful. Let's never do it again."
She leans back. "We're doing it again tomorrow."
Of course we are.
She hands me the card. The one we risked life and limb for. "We're one step closer."
"To saving the real Lyra?" I ask.
She nods. "And blowing up the system."
Because subtlety is dead.
There's a long silence. Rain tapping on the roof. Our breath fogging the cold air between us.
Then she says, "You were good today."
"Don't lie to me."
"I'm not. You were… more than I expected."
I look at her.
And for the first time since this insane journey started, I feel something other than fear.
I feel seen.
And maybe that's the real danger here.
Because yeah, the regime is terrifying.
But falling for the girl who tricked you into helping her start a war?
That's way scarier.