The tunnels smelled of wet concrete and rust, the hum of hidden machinery vibrating faintly through the floor. Water dripped somewhere, uneven, like the city itself was counting down to something or warning me. Footsteps echoed in the distance, then closer, then vanished, leaving only the soft rhythm of my boots against the grime.
And then the chaos hit.
Two figures lunged from the shadows, hands like steel, eyes sharp and unyielding. I didn't flinch too much had happened in these veins for hesitation to feel like an option. Observation first, survival second. Patterns. Timing. Weakness.
"Really?" I muttered under my breath, sarcasm my armor. "Because getting mugged in the middle of a tunnel was on my to-do list today. Lucky me."
A flicker of movement, a flash of blade and suddenly Jonas was there, stepping between me and the attackers like a perfectly rehearsed savior. Smooth, calm, untouchable. Too convenient. Too… neat.
"Relax, Dylan," he said, flashing that infuriatingly charming smile. "I've got this."
I raised an eyebrow. "Oh, fantastic. Here I was thinking I might get a say in who dies today. Silly me."
He didn't answer. He just moved, precise and almost theatrical, neutralizing the attackers with a grace that screamed preparation. And I noticed everything the timing, the position of the attackers, the way he had subtly guided me away from danger without me realizing it until too late.
Too neat.
I muttered under my breath, calculating, cataloging. "Everything about this is staged. The attack. The timing. His heroics. Someone wants me to notice or think I do."
Jonas glanced at me, eyes sparkling with feigned concern. "You okay?"
I smiled, slow and sharp. "Better than ever. Thanks to you. Again." Sarcasm, my faithful shield, hiding the recognition: this was no random chance. Not in this city.
He didn't know I saw it all. The subtle clues. The pre-positioned debris. The attackers' predictable movements. Every detail filed away, a mental tally for later. He thought he had control; I had knowledge.
Step by careful step, I decided: pretend trust. Let him think I'm grateful. Let him think he's indispensable. And while he's busy believing that… I'll watch. I'll learn. I'll plan.
The dripping water echoed louder, or maybe it was just me listening harder. The tunnel's hum vibrated in rhythm with my pulse. Every sound a marker, every shadow a hint. Observation was power, and I had plenty to work with.
Jonas lingered for a beat, flashing that smile again, before moving on, as if nothing had happened. And I let him think the game had been his to win.
"Congratulations, Jonas," I muttered, voice low, sarcastic, deadly calm. "You just taught me how to pretend I need you. Class dismissed."
The Veins hummed, indifferent, and I straightened my shoulders. Lesson learned. Advantage taken. And the game… the game had just begun.