⌐╦ᡁ᠊╾━
I can't let myself be irrational. That's what they want. If I act now without a plan- without preparation- Lila dies. I grit my teeth, forcing my thoughts into order.
Focus. Strategy. Survival.
My wounds are still raw from the escape. I dress in stolen protective layers: tight black underclothes, a hoodie, a reinforced jacket.
I check the weapons I managed to smuggle out. Gun. Knife. Taser. A few smoke grenades stolen from a Syndicate supply truck. I run my fingers over each, memorising their weight, their balance, their recoil. Muscle memory will have to carry me more than thinking.
The first step is finding Gregor- the traitor.
He knows the tunnels under the compound- the old smuggling routes. He's the only way in without walking straight into a Syndicate trap.
...
I track him quietly, watching from the shadows, listening to the low, clipped clatter of his movements. He doesn't know I'm following him.
When I finally catch him in a dim alley behind a café, he's leaning against the wall, smirking like he owns the place.
"You," I say. Calm. Controlled. "We need to talk."
His eyes narrow. "Dante. I'm surprised to see you."
I step closer. "I don't have time for games, Gregor. You're helping me get into the tunnels. Or I tell the Syndicate about AT394."
He chuckles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. I see the flicker- the hesitation- the fear.
"Lila's life is on the line," I continue. "You know what happens if I fail. And you owe me."
The smirk drops. He swallows hard and nods. "Fine," he mutters. "But we do it my way. If I get caught, it's on you."
I don't argue. I follow him through the maze of back alleys, counting steps, memorising corners, noting escape routes. Every street, every doorway, every shadow matters.
Gregor leads me to a crumbling warehouse at the edge of the old industrial district. The vent we're looking for is there, rusted shut. He works quickly, hands shaking as he pries it open. I keep watch, listening to the distant rumble of Syndicate patrols.
"This will get you in," he says, stepping back. "But once you're inside... you're on your own."
I nod, sliding a black cloth over my face and tying it behind my head. Gloves on. Gun loaded. Knife strapped to my thigh. I can't afford mistakes.
I take a slow breath, focusing on her- her eyes, the curve of her mouth, the way she always tries to laugh even when she's terrified. That's why I'm doing this.
That's why I can't fail.
For her.