The safehouse in the old train district was barely livable — concrete walls, broken windows patched with plastic sheeting, the air heavy with dust and damp. But it was out of sight, and for now, that was enough.
Aara sat on the edge of the mattress, her boots still on, back against the wall. Haru moved carefully, like he didn't want to disturb something sacred. Or fragile. Like her.
"You should sleep," he said softly, dropping a faded blanket beside her.
"I've slept enough for people who died in their dreams."
He didn't ask what that meant.
Instead, he sat across from her, spine pressed to the opposite wall, knees nearly touching hers.
The silence between them wasn't empty. It was loaded — with unspoken apologies, memories they didn't want, and things they wanted too much.
"Do you regret it?" she asked.
"What?"
"Turning on your family. Everything you've lost."
Haru met her gaze without flinching. "I regret not doing it sooner."
Aara wanted to believe him. She did. But belief was a scar that hadn't healed straight.
Before she could respond, the floor vibrated — faint, but real.
Aara was on her feet in seconds, the knife back in her hand. Haru followed without a word, drawing the pistol tucked into his waistband.
They heard it then.
Footsteps. Not careful. Not quiet. Confident.
Someone knew they were here.
Jin had seconds to decide.
Phoenix's perimeter sensors had picked up a breach. Two hostiles — maybe three. Not DaeCorp soldiers, not local enforcers. These were contractors. Hired blades. Expensive. Efficient.
He slammed the door open just as the first man raised his gun.
A shot rang out — but not from the intruder.
Haru stood at the top of the stairs, arm extended, eyes hard. The man tumbled backward, crashing through the bannister.
"Second floor!" Aara called from below, dragging a small table in front of the stairwell.
Jin moved fast — one, two, three — disabling the remaining attacker with a precision that made Haru freeze mid-motion.
He knew that style.
Phoenix-trained.
Jin removed his hood, stepping into the light. "We need to move. Now."
Aara didn't blink. "You're the one who warned me."
He nodded once.
"You've been following me."
"Yes."
"You're with Phoenix."
Again, no denial. "My name is Jin. I was assigned to protect you."
Aara stared at him like she was trying to see through him. Not just the lie — the reason behind it.
"You should've told me."
"They don't tell the fire it's being watched. They just make sure it doesn't go out."
They were already in the car when the safehouse went up in flames behind them.
Jin didn't look back.
Haru did.
He watched as the place he'd spent the last few hours with Aara — where, for a moment, things had felt painfully close to real — collapsed in on itself.
"Phoenix?" he asked quietly.
"Yeah," Jin said.
"They're not just protecting her. They're building something."
Jin gave him a sideways glance. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
Haru smiled, hollow and dark. "I say that like it's going to get her killed."
They drove in silence until Aara finally broke it.
"So what now?"
Jin spoke without looking at her. "Now you become more than a symbol."
"I didn't ask to be one."
"Symbols don't ask," he replied. "They burn themselves into the world."
She stared out the window as the city blurred past, eyes reflecting firelight even in the dark.
And in the silence that followed, something shifted.
She wasn't just fighting anymore.
She was becoming.