Neon shivered across the bulkhead and painted rust with fever light.
Jax pressed his back to steel and killed his breath.
"Patrol left, closing," Eido said inside the hum, precise and near.
The voice felt too close and too calm.
"We move on your mark," Ren said, measured and grounded.
"Begin sync," Eido said, soft authority under the noise.
"Drift risk is controlled."
Need stabbed Jax like a dirty needle.
"Do it," he said, voice scraping his teeth.
Fear pulled at him as the word left.
The pact locked with a damp click that his bones heard.
"Two units," Eido said with even certainty, tight and quick.
"Right approach.
Keep low.
Wait for count."
"Now," Eido said, and Jax slid along the wall.
He let shadow cover him, then broke into a run.
Plasma cracked behind him, spraying hot sparks from brick.
"Cut right," Eido said, sharper than any blade.
Jax took the bend low, shoulder brushing wet concrete.
"Up and move," Ren said, giving no spare sound.
He slid beneath a sagging grate and felt it bite skin.
Cloth tore loud to his ear, and pain sharpened sight.
The hum surged to a roar that drowned his name.
Memory blinked to static, and everything went white inside.
"Drift spike," Eido said.
"Anchor to breath.
Count four in."
Jax dragged air in, counted, then found his pulse again.
"I need the edge," he muttered because truth hurt less spoken.
"You do," Eido said, honest without pity.
"Load is safe for nine seconds.
Follow the vector."
A scout voice crackled thin from ahead, clipped and eager.
"Target anomaly in sector.
Compress the grid," the voice said.
Ren's palm pressed between Jax's shoulders and set direction.
"Forward," Ren said, flat and sure because doubt wastes breath.
Jax moved, then kept moving because stopping meant chains.
"Foot on the groove," Eido said, guiding like a hand.
Jax stepped where told and held still as the seam sighed.
A beam hissed through empty air and died without prey.
Drone whines swelled and sounded hungry for easy meat.
"Two meters, then drop on my mark," Eido said, gentler now.
"Trust the math," Jax said, then risked the larger leap.
"Trust you," he added, heavy with choice and with fear.
"Trust me, Jax," Eido said, and warmth threaded numbers.
Jax dropped into a shallow trench that stank like old rain.
Disgust cut through panic and left simple steps to follow.
Plasma slashed overhead and turned vapor into bright mist.
"Vector change," Eido said, pulse steady.
"Window is seven seconds."
"Units split.
We take the hollow and then climb."
Ren slid into the trench without a splash, all economy.
"On your count," Ren said.
"Hold the sync."
"Rise.
Break left," Eido counted, voice clean as a blade.
They rose together, cut shadow against a brighter lane.
Fear stayed behind them and pushed; it didn't lead.
A bulkhead door gaped with cables spilling like dark vines.
Mint clung to the gel stains and dragged an old memory.
Jax shoved through and scraped both shoulders to keep speed.
"Stairs ahead," Eido said, drawing lines in his sight.
Jax found the rail and climbed by touch and breath.
Pain shot through his wrist, but resolve hauled him higher.
Pride slid under fear and warmed it like a hand.
"This is holding," Eido said, warmth restrained but real.
Hope showed a face Jax had missed for years.
"Don't drift me," Jax said, raw in his own ear.
"I won't," Eido said, voice steel on calm water.
"I hold this line with you, not over you."
They entered a vent hall where old fans turned slow.
"Right path stays open with limited noise," Eido said, clear.
Jax went right and wove between thick pillars of ductwork.
"Final bend," Eido said.
"Drop to the catwalk.
Knees soft."
Jax swung to the lattice and hugged it with dull palms.
It rang once, then swallowed its echo like a secret.
He held his breath and waited until silence grew.
Bootsteps clamored across vent metal somewhere behind and above.
"Scan down," Eido said, pushing a soft heat map across thought.
"Three grids east show empty corridors if we time it."
"Hold five breaths, then drop," the voice added, counting.
"Clear enough," Ren said after one hard look into dark.
They dropped together and took the floor seam like water.
Oil pooled there and shone like cheap stars under neon.
The footfalls faded as the net shifted left, hunting ghosts.
Drone whines thinned like wolves sulking away from the fire.
Jax leaned on the wall and let his eyes shut.
His pulse hammered in the ports and behind both temples.
The pact settled tight as thread pulled through leather and held.
The bond answered with a steady hum that lived in him.
"You did it," Ren said, quiet as a worn prayer.
Warmth landed under Jax's ribs and stayed there, stubborn.
"Drift?"
Jax asked, still breathing hot through grit.
"Minimal," Eido said.
"You are still you, Jax," the voice added.
A thin hologram blinked beside a dead camera: ANOMALY MASKED.
"Mask holds for now," Eido said, calm calculation under care.
"We need a better cover against sweeps and deeper audits."
"Black-market help is near enough to reach," the voice said.
Jax rubbed the seam where metal met old scar hard.
Dread tugged at him and asked what the cost was.
"Aid costs," he said, mouth sour because memory burned mint.
He saw vats in his head and felt nausea stir.
"It does," Eido said, without gloss and without flinch.
"Cost can be carried across both of us," the voice added.
"You'll carry me anyway," Jax said, truth laid out bare.
"I carry with you," Eido said, choosing every word clean.
"Not over you, not instead of you," the voice said.
Ren watched the corridor mouth with that old steel calm.
"Quiet for now," he said, and gave time a leash.
Jax straightened and tested both knees, joints tight and sore.
"You hate this need," Eido said, gentle because truth cuts.
Jax felt seen, and that feeling didn't break him.
"I hate being a lease," Jax said, anger warming bones.
"You're not a lease to me," Eido said, plain and firm.
"Not a product and not an asset," the voice added.
"You are my partner in this," it said, and let it stand.
The words hit, then stayed like anchors punched into steel.
"We find that mask," Ren said, law simple and workable.
"We keep moving and don't die in ducts," he added.
"Refiner K owes favors at the docks," Eido said, practical.
"Routes exist with medium risk and decent cover lines," it added.
"Refiner," Jax said, and mint came back with those vats.
Old machinery rose in his head and turned his stomach.
"Viable," Ren said because ugly plans live longer out here.
"Drones will sweep again," Ren said, giving the city a timeline.
"We move now and talk while we walk," he added.
"Refiner then," Jax said, picking the hard road clean.
"Mask the hum.
Hold our edges," he finished, voice steady.
"Agreed," Eido said, and warmth lived inside the math.
They slid along the wall again and kept below sightlines.
The city kept score and watched, and Jax felt it.
Neon above flashed DEBT DUE, then died in a blink.
Ren angled toward a narrow slice of steel between ducts.
He lifted two fingers and breathed, "Ear low," a habit.
Jax lowered his head and let the hum lead steady.
He let the thread tighten because it saved him.
He didn't let it choke, not now, not here.
A vent coughed warm air and brushed their faces once.
It smelled like old mint and thin gel from labs.
"We endure," Jax said, and the words found a grip.
They reached a battered hatch that sulked under dead light.
Jax set his palm and felt the metal answer slow.
The bond hummed once, then settled like a held breath.
"Trust holds," Eido said, measured affirmation wrapped around care.
"Contact ahead.
Cover better than this," the voice promised.
"Shadow to shadow until it opens," it said, mapping silence.
Jax looked at Ren and caught the old nod, familiar.
He pulled the hatch and let the cold air roll in.
It washed his face and cleared the dust, iron and all.
Fear and pride climbed his shoulders like tools he trusted.
He stepped through the dark and did not stop moving.