(Keifer's POV)
I didn't move.
Not even an inch.
The red line on the floor barely shimmered, so thin it almost didn't exist—until you looked at it long enough. Then you saw it clearly. Then you understood.
One step—
and everything ends.
My eyes stayed locked between the line and her.
Jay.
Still on the floor.
Still trying to breathe through something she wasn't even fully saying.
"Edrix," I said quietly.
"I see it," he replied immediately, already crouched slightly, his phone angled, scanning. "It's not static… it's shifting."
That caught my attention.
"How?"
"Reflection," he muttered. "Multiple points… not just one source. It's bouncing."
Meaning—
it wasn't just one laser.
It was a grid.
A controlled one.
I exhaled slowly, forcing everything into focus.
"Can you read it?"
"Trying."
Behind me, Aries shifted impatiently. "We don't have time for 'trying.' Just tell us what to do."
I didn't turn.
"You move," I said calmly, "she dies."
Silence.
Immediate.
Even he didn't argue that.
Good.
I looked at her again.
Her eyes were barely open now.
Still watching me.
Still—
aware.
"Jay," I said, softer.
Her lips parted slightly.
"Hmm…"
Barely a response.
But enough.
"I need you to stay with me," I continued. "Don't move. Not even a little, okay?"
A small nod.
Or maybe just her trying.
Her hand tightened again over her stomach, her breathing hitching slightly.
That didn't sit right.
I didn't push it.
Not now.
Focus.
"Keif…" she whispered faintly.
"I'm here."
Her eyes shifted toward the floor between us.
"…line…"
That confirmed it.
She knew.
Of course she did.
"You're doing good," I said quietly. "Just keep looking at me."
Behind me, Edrix spoke again, faster now.
"It's cycling."
My attention snapped back.
"What?"
"The pattern—it's not random," he said, more certain now. "There are micro-gaps. Small ones, but they exist."
"How small?"
"Milliseconds."
That was enough.
That was all I needed.
"Show me."
He adjusted his position slightly, angling his screen toward me without stepping forward. "Watch the reflection," he said. "It shifts every few seconds. There's a delay between beams."
I followed it.
At first—
nothing.
Then—
there.
A flicker.
A gap.
Gone again.
My breathing slowed.
Everything narrowed.
Time stretched.
"Keif…" Percy's voice came from behind, quieter than usual. "Tell me you're not thinking what I think you're thinking."
I didn't answer him.
Because I was.
I stepped forward—
just slightly.
"Keifer—" Aries started.
"Don't," I cut in.
My eyes stayed locked ahead.
Another flicker.
Another gap.
There.
Now.
I moved.
One step.
Clean.
Precise.
Nothing happened.
No sound.
No reaction.
Good.
Behind me, I heard a breath leave someone.
Didn't matter.
My focus didn't shift.
Another gap.
I waited.
Watched.
Moved again.
Closer.
Still safe.
"Okay…" Edrix muttered. "Okay, that's working."
Of course it was.
Because I wasn't guessing.
I was reading it.
Timing it.
I looked at her again.
Closer now.
Not enough.
But closer.
"Jay," I said quietly.
Her eyes found mine again.
"…don't…" she whispered.
"I know."
Another gap.
I stepped again.
This time—
closer than before.
Too close for mistakes.
Her breathing hitched again.
Her hand pressed harder against her stomach.
That wasn't just pain.
That was getting worse.
And I was running out of time.
I lifted my gaze again.
Followed the pattern.
Waited—
And moved.
The moment I crossed the last gap—
I was there.
Right in front of her.
For a second, I didn't move.
Didn't touch her.
Just looked.
Up close… it hit harder.
She looked worse than I thought.
Not just tired.
Not just hurt.
Drained.
Like she was holding herself together with whatever little strength she had left.
"Jay…" I said quietly.
Her eyes shifted, slow, unfocused—but they found me.
"…Keif…"
I lowered myself carefully in front of her, keeping my movements slow, controlled, aware of every inch around us.
"I'm here," I said. "I've got you."
Her breathing hitched slightly, her hand still pressed tightly against her stomach.
That again.
That's what was wrong.
I noticed it before—but now, this close, it was obvious.
I didn't ignore it.
"Where?" I asked softly.
Her brows pulled together faintly, like even understanding the question took effort.
"The pain," I clarified, gentler. "Where is it, Jay?"
A small pause.
Then her hand shifted slightly—
barely—
but enough.
She pressed it more clearly against one side of her stomach.
"There…" she whispered.
My jaw tightened for a second, but I kept my voice steady.
"Okay."
I moved my hand slowly, giving her enough time to react, making sure I didn't startle her.
"Tell me if it hurts," I said quietly.
Her breathing grew uneven.
"I know," I added softly. "Just—let me see."
My fingers barely touched the spot—
light.
Careful.
Testing.
The reaction was instant.
A sharp, rough sound slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it—
"Ah—"
Her body tensed slightly, her hand gripping onto my wrist weakly.
"Don't—" she whispered quickly, her voice breaking. "Plzz… don't…"
I pulled back immediately.
"I'm sorry," I said, just as quick, my voice low, controlled but softer than before. "I'm sorry."
Her breathing stayed uneven for a second, her grip loosening again.
"I won't do that again," I added quietly.
She didn't answer.
Just closed her eyes for a brief second, like she was trying to steady herself.
I didn't push.
Didn't ask more.
I already knew enough.
That wasn't just a hit.
That was worse.
And it was getting worse the longer we stayed here.
"Okay…" I said softly, more to myself than her. "We're not staying."
Her eyes opened again, barely.
"…Keif…"
"I know," I said.
I adjusted my position slightly, one hand moving carefully behind her shoulders, the other hovering near her side—but not touching where it hurt.
"I'm going to lift you," I said quietly. "Slowly. I won't hurt you, okay?"
A pause.
Then the smallest nod.
I moved carefully—
slow enough to give her time—
supporting her back first, then shifting her weight just slightly.
Her breathing hitched again, but she didn't stop me this time.
Good.
That meant she trusted it.
Trusted me.
"Stay with me," I murmured.
I lifted her a little more—
steady,
controlled,
keeping her close enough so she didn't have to hold herself up.
Her head dropped lightly against my shoulder.
Her grip on my shirt tightened faintly.
Weak.
But there.
"I've got you," I said again.
And this time—
I meant it more than anything else.