Liam
He felt it the moment he woke up—the shift.
The bed was empty beside him. The hallway too quiet. Not the soft kind of quiet that meant peace… the hollow kind. The kind that echoed.
He was on his feet instantly, shirt half-buttoned, gun drawn from under the pillow before his feet hit the floorboards.
"Elena?" he called.
"In here."
Her voice was steady. But low. Controlled in that way that meant it was not okay.
He found them in Miri's room. Elena was sitting on the edge of the bed, Miri leaning against her. The sketchpad lay open in Elena's lap.
She held up the page without a word.
Liam took one look—and stilled.
The drawing was crisp. Specific. A small surveillance device, the kind Ridgepoint operatives used in proximity surveillance missions. Outdated in design, but still active in syndicate circles.
He didn't ask how Miri knew to draw it.
He knew better by now.
His eyes flicked to the vent.
"Where is it?"
Miri pointed. "There. Behind the right panel."
Liam moved fast. Removed the cover. Found the small unit wedged between two support beams. Not sloppily planted—deliberately hidden.
He held it in his hand for a long second.
Then crushed it in his fist.
Metal crunched. Wires snapped.
But the damage had already been done.
"Elena," he said, voice tight, "this wasn't a threat. This was recon. They've been listening. Watching."
"How long?" she asked.
"No idea. Long enough to learn Miri's routine."
She went still.
He saw the panic in her eyes—but only for a second, before she shoved it down.
"I'm going to burn this place to the ground," she whispered.
Liam looked at Miri.
The girl didn't speak. She just stared at him like she was waiting for the part where adults lie.
So he didn't.
He crouched beside her and said, "You did the right thing. You were smart. Smarter than us."
She blinked once. "Will he come in the night?"
He didn't answer.
Because he didn't know.
He and Elena stayed up through the night.
They swept the house—again. Checked all five vents. The crawlspace. The exterior cameras. They found two more devices: one in the chimney flue, and one beneath the porch rail.
Elena's hands shook as she pulled the last one out, her knuckles white.
"They weren't just watching," she said. "They were waiting."
"Cassian's always had patience," Liam muttered.
"So what now?"
Liam stood beside her in the moonlight, their reflection visible in the darkened glass of the porch door—two people caught in a war that wouldn't let them be civilians.
"We leave," he said.
"Where?"
"I have one contact left that Cassian doesn't know about."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Reign?" she asked.
Liam nodded. "If she's still on our side… she's already watching too."
Elena's mouth curved into a bitter smile. "Then we better give her something worth watching."
The sky was beginning to lighten—muted grays and dull lavender streaking across the lake.
Inside, the cabin felt hollow. Stripped.
Elena zipped the last duffel and dropped it on the couch. "That's everything," she said. "Food, meds, burner phones, IDs."
Liam was checking the truck's undercarriage for trackers, hands scraped raw from the rust.
When he stepped back inside, sweat dampening the collar of his T-shirt, she met him with a stare too sharp for this hour.
"We can't outrun this forever," she said. "You know that."
He tossed the toolkit on the floor. "I'm not trying to outrun it. I'm trying to get you and Miri out alive."
"What about you?"
He didn't answer. Just leaned against the wall, head tilted back, eyes closed. "That's not the priority."
Elena moved toward him, slow but deliberate. "It is for me."
His jaw flexed. "Elena—"
"No. I'm not just going to watch you sacrifice yourself. Not again. Not in pieces."
"I'm not planning on dying."
"Then stop acting like you already have."
The silence stretched between them.
He looked at her then—really looked. Her eyes were bright with anger, her body taut with tension, but there was something else in her expression.
Fear. Not just of the enemy. But of losing him to himself.
"You want me to be honest?" he said.
"Always."
"I don't know if I can protect you from this." His voice cracked on the last word. "Cassian knows how I think. He knows how to hurt me."
"Then give me something he doesn't know."
He blinked. "Like what?"
She stepped closer.
"Like how it feels to be wanted. Loved. Not used."
He reached for her, hands gripping her waist as if grounding himself. "You already have that."
"Then show me."
They didn't speak after that.
She kissed him like a challenge, and he answered like a man breaking open. The weight of fear, frustration, and grief spilled between them in every motion—every drag of fingers, every gasp.
She led him to the bed, stripping away layers until there was nothing left between them but truth and skin.
He worshipped her like a last prayer.
She held him like a promise.
And when it was over, she rested her forehead against his, their breaths tangled.
"You don't get to leave me behind," she whispered.
He pulled her closer.
"I wasn't built to stay," he said. "But for you, I'm learning."
Liam stirred first.
The sky outside was still pale gray, the kind of light that blurred the difference between night and dawn. Elena was curled against his chest, one hand resting just over his heart. He didn't want to move.
Then came the knock.
Soft. Rhythmic. Three taps against the bedroom door.
He stilled.
Elena sat up, sleep-drunk but alert. "That's not like her."
"Miri?" Liam called, voice low.
The door creaked open.
She stood barefoot in the doorway, wearing one of Elena's old hoodies, her hair tangled and her face pale.
But it wasn't fear on her face.
It was focus.
"I had another dream," she said. "But I don't think it was mine."
Elena sat up fully now, brushing hair from her face. "Come here, sweetheart."
Miri stepped inside and crawled onto the edge of the bed. She didn't hesitate. Didn't ask for comfort. She pulled the sketchpad from under her arm like it had been waiting with her.
She opened to a new page.
What she had drawn stopped both of them cold.
It wasn't Cassian.
It wasn't a shadowy figure near the cabin or a vague silhouette from a ventriloquized nightmare.
It was a room.
High-tech. Cold. Lined with monitors.
And inside it—
A girl.
Curled up in the corner. Hooked to a cable running from her wrist to the wall.
Miri tapped the corner of the drawing where a small detail was sketched in tight lines.
A locket.
The same one that Miri kept in a box under her bed—old, scratched, and left from a past neither of them fully understood.
"I don't think she's me," Miri said softly. "But she remembers things I don't. And when I wake up, I feel tired. Like I've been… pulled somewhere."
Liam took the sketchpad, his expression hardening. "This isn't just a dream."
"You think it's live," Elena whispered.
"I think someone's projecting. And I think Miri's linked."
He stood abruptly, moving to the dresser, retrieving the remains of the vent device.
"I thought this was a passive bug," he muttered. "But if it was feeding biotelemetry…"
He turned it over.
There—a microscopic port, nearly invisible.
Elena stepped beside him, voice low. "What does that mean?"
"It means Miri's not just hearing them."
He looked at the drawing again. The cables. The room.
"She's connected to something they left behind."
Miri looked between them. "Is it bad?"
Elena crouched beside her, forcing calm into her voice. "It means you're stronger than they thought. And they're scared of that."
Liam stared at the sketch one more time, mind already building out theories.
If Miri was receiving neural traces… it meant someone else was transmitting them.
Which meant…
There was another child.
Still inside the system.
Still being used.
And Miri—Miri was the bridge.
Liam stepped back, pulse suddenly ice-cold.
"This isn't just about us anymore," he said.
Elena rose slowly. "Then who's she?"
Miri looked down at the drawing and whispered—
"I think she's the one who came before me."