The vault door didn't just slam; it sealed with a hiss of pressurized air that signaled a total lockdown. Inside, the red emergency lights bathed the server towers in the color of fresh blood.
"Leo," Yuna said, her voice dropping into a register that would have terrified her classmates. Gone was the stuttering outcast; in her place stood a legend. "You always were better at talking than at coding. You didn't override the bypass. You just waited for me to do the heavy lifting."
"Guilty as charged, ARES," Leo's voice crackled, smooth and mocking. "The Council is five minutes away. Open the vacuum seal on the Crown Jewel, walk out with your hands up, and maybe—just maybe—I'll convince them you're still useful."
Yuna didn't answer. She didn't have five minutes. She had seconds.
The All-Rounder's Strike
She didn't head for the door. Instead, she sprinted toward the central cooling pillar. From the waistband of her tactical suit, she pulled a small, high-frequency sonic pulse generator—a device she'd spent three nights building in the back of the library.
She slapped it against the glass casing of the Crown Jewel.
CRACK.
The vacuum seal shattered. Alarms screamed, a deafening klaxon that tore through the silence. Yuna grabbed the translucent drive, but she wasn't done. She knew the vents were now electrified. The door was titanium.
She looked up at the ceiling. The fire suppression system.
With a leap that defied her "nerdy" physique, she kicked off a server rack, caught a overhead pipe, and swung herself upward. She pulled a heavy-duty screwdriver from her sleeve—not for a screw, but as a lever. She jammed it into the main valve and twisted with every ounce of her strength.
KABOOM.
The pipe didn't just leak; it exploded under the pressure of the chemical retardant. The room filled with thick, white foam, blinding the security cameras and short-circuiting the electronic locks on the emergency exit.
The Heir's Stand
Meanwhile, in the grand hallway, Jaxon was surrounded. Four men in charcoal suits—Council cleaners—closed in.
"Mr. Thorne, don't make this difficult," the lead man said, reaching for his inner pocket.
Jaxon didn't wait. He was a Thorne, and Thornes didn't negotiate with shadows. He grabbed a heavy crystal vase from a nearby pedestal and smashed it against the wall, using the jagged base as a makeshift weapon.
"You're on my property," Jaxon snarled, his eyes blazing. "In my school. And you're touching my partner. You're not taking me anywhere."
He lunged. Jaxon wasn't a professional assassin, but he'd been trained in Krav Maga since he was six. He took the first man down with a brutal elbow to the throat, but the other three pulled out high-voltage stun batons.
Just as the lead man swung, a flash of grey and black blurred through the hallway's service entrance.
THWACK. CRUNCH. THUD.
Three seconds. That's all it took. The three remaining men were on the floor, groaning in pain. Yuna stood there, her hoodie pulled low, the translucent "Crown Jewel" drive tucked into her belt. She was covered in white fire-suppression foam and dust, looking like a vengeful spirit.
She didn't say a word. She grabbed Jaxon by the tie and pulled him toward the back exit.
"Move," she commanded. "The Council's main extraction team is at the front gate. We have to go through the forest."
Jaxon, breathless and bleeding from a small cut on his cheek, looked at the girl he thought he knew. She was terrifying. She was lethal. And she was the most incredible thing he'd ever seen.
"You kept the drive?" he wheezed as they sprinted toward the dark tree line of the Academy grounds.
"I kept the world," Yuna replied, glancing back at the burning lights of the Academy. "But now, Jaxon, we're both officially dead to the Thorne Empire. Are you ready to be an outcast for real?"
Jaxon gripped her hand, his fingers interlocking with hers. "I was bored of being a King anyway."