Aara woke before the sun.
The old clock on the wall read 5:13 AM, though she doubted it was accurate. The building hummed with that strange pre-dawn quiet — like everything in the world was holding its breath.
She sat up slowly.
Haru was still asleep beside her, one arm tucked under his head, the other across his chest. He didn't stir. He looked younger in sleep, almost untouched. But Aara knew better. They were both made of sharp edges now, just learning how not to bleed on each other.
She rose, careful not to wake him, and crossed to the sink in the corner. Cold water. Always cold.
She splashed her face, gripping the metal edges like they might offer some kind of grounding.
But her reflection stared back, hollow-eyed and furious.
Not at him.
At them.
By the time Haru came looking for her, Aara was already in the strategy room, leaning over Phoenix's newest intel dump.
She'd pulled it apart in less than thirty minutes.
"These plans are shit," she muttered.
Haru stepped through the open door, his presence low and steady. "Morning to you too."
She didn't look up. "They're planning a strike on a DaeCorp logistics depot. It's not a primary node. They're using it as bait."
"For who?"
She turned to face him.
"Me."
Haru's jaw tightened. "You sure?"
"They leaked the location through my old fight channel. Backdoor forums, mostly dead accounts. Except someone knew I'd still have the access codes."
He came closer, glancing at the files scattered across the table.
"And Phoenix didn't mention that part."
"No," she said. "They didn't."
She met his eyes then, calm but unflinching.
"They want to draw DaeCorp out. They want to use me to do it."
"Just like your father did," she added bitterly.
Haru didn't argue.
He didn't need to.
They went to see Arlen an hour later.
The Phoenix handler was seated at a long steel desk, reviewing a digital schematic. He didn't look up when they entered.
"You're early," he said.
"I'm not playing this game," Aara said. "You leaked that depot intel through my old network. You used my name."
Arlen gave a slow sigh. "You want to lead, you have to draw blood. Yours or someone else's. That's how it works."
"No," she snapped. "That's how you work. You traded one kind of control for another."
"It's war."
"It's convenience."
Arlen finally looked up. "You were born for this, Aara. Whether you like it or not, people follow you. Symbols don't get to choose how they're used."
She stepped forward, voice like a blade. "Then I'm not your symbol anymore."
"You're not walking away from this."
"Watch me."
They left the meeting with nothing settled — except the fire rising in her chest.
Haru didn't speak as they walked, letting her pace ahead. But she could feel him behind her, quiet, present. Not pushing. Just keeping close in case something shattered.
They made it back to the safe room, only to find the door already ajar.
Aara slowed, hand going to the blade tucked into her boot.
Haru moved in first, eyes scanning.
Empty.
But something was on the floor.
A box.
Black. Plain. With no markings.
Aara crouched slowly and opened it.
Inside was a collar — not just any collar, but hers.
The one she wore in the fights. The one DaeCorp locked around her throat when they introduced her to crowds as Subject 9.
It was clean. Polished. Re-welded shut.
And tucked beneath it… a single slip of paper.
Five words, handwritten in thin, even strokes:
"You belong to me still."
Haru stepped closer, voice low. "What the hell is this?"
She stared at the note like it might catch fire in her hands.
"Hollow," she whispered.
That night, the nightmares came harder.
She dreamt of being dragged back into the ring. Of metal under her skin, of bright lights and louder screams. Of Haru standing on the other side of the cage, reaching for her — but unable to cross the threshold.
And in the shadows of her dream, someone watched. Someone with her voice but not her soul.
"You chose this," it said.
"No," Aara answered.
But even in sleep, she wasn't sure if that was the truth.
The next morning, she met Haru on the roof.
He'd brought her coffee. Black. No sugar. Just how she liked it. She took it with a quiet nod, and for a while, they stood in silence as the city groaned awake below.
"He's watching," she said finally.
"Hollow?"
She nodded. "He was trained in the same program. One of the older ones. They took him apart before I ever got there. He doesn't remember who he was."
"You do."
"Barely. But I remember enough to know I don't want to go back."
She looked at Haru then. Really looked.
"I need to do this on my terms. No Phoenix. No handlers. Just me."
He didn't argue.
"Then I'll follow," he said.
"No," she replied. "You won't."
He blinked. "What?"
"You'll walk beside me. Or not at all. But I won't let anyone follow me ever again."
There was a beat of silence.
Then he nodded. "Beside you, then."
Back downstairs, Aara found the collar still sitting on the table.
She didn't touch it.
She just stared.
Then picked up the note.
And lit it on fire.
Hollow could watch. Could threaten. Could crawl from the past like a ghost with her name on his tongue.
But she was no longer a cage waiting to be filled.
She was the lock. And the key. And the door.
And if Hollow wanted her...
He'd have to bleed first.