The world had gone still.
The kind of stillness that only happens when something is about to break.
Jayden crouched in the brush just beyond the outer fence of St. Briar. The metal links shimmered faintly in the moonlight, sharp as teeth. Beyond it, the facility glowed pale orange under floodlights — clean walls, trimmed lawns, and security patrols that moved like clock hands.
It looked peaceful from a distance. That was the lie of it.
Ortiz whispered beside him, "You sure this is the place?"
Jayden nodded. "This is it."
He could feel it — the air humming with the same rhythm as his heartbeat. She was here. Layla.
---
The Ghost's Path
They'd spent two days circling the town, watching from every angle. The cops had scaled back from the county line but left unmarked cars near every road leading toward St. Briar.
The real watch was quieter — cameras hidden in lampposts, motion sensors buried near the gate. Jayden studied it all with the same patience he'd learned behind bars. Every flaw, every lazy habit, every second between rounds.
He sketched it in his head, tracing invisible lines of movement. A dance of lights and shadows.
Ortiz tapped his shoulder. "That fence looks wired."
"It is," Jayden said. "But see the gap near the drain line? They buried the grounding rod too shallow. If we cut it there, the current drops."
Ortiz gave a low whistle. "You always notice the small things."
Jayden's eyes didn't leave the building. "That's how you stay alive."
---
The Shadow of Guilt
While Ortiz set to work on the wire, Jayden kept watch, his thoughts drifting somewhere else.
He remembered the day the cops had dragged him out of that alley years ago, Layla screaming behind them. He remembered the sound of her fists on the cruiser window, the rain turning her tears invisible.
He'd promised her he'd come back.
And he had — just not the way she'd ever dreamed.
He wondered if she'd hate him for it.
---
The Cut
Ortiz's knife flashed once, twice. The wire sizzled, then went quiet.
"Grounded," Ortiz whispered.
Jayden nodded. They slipped through the gap, crawling under the fence one at a time. The grass on the other side was trimmed so perfectly it almost felt wrong under their hands.
They were ghosts now — the kind that didn't rattle chains, but carried fire in their blood.
They moved low along the outer wall, staying in the shadows of the floodlights. The building's brick surface was smooth, almost polished. Jayden could see the faint glow of cameras pivoting overhead.
He pulled a rock from his pocket and tossed it toward the far fence. The clatter made the nearest guard flinch and turn his flashlight toward the sound.
They slipped past him in the opposite direction.
---
The Window
They reached the north wing — dorms, if the blueprints Ortiz had stolen weeks ago were right. Jayden counted the windows. Fifth from the end. Second floor.
That was it. Her dorm.
He crouched in the grass, breath shallow. His chest ached like the moment before a punch — that space where everything you are holds itself tight.
"Can't get in from here," Ortiz murmured.
"I don't need to. Not yet."
Jayden's eyes tracked the faint light glowing through a curtain slit. A silhouette moved inside — small, steady.
Layla.
He couldn't see her face, but he didn't have to. He knew the way she moved — careful, deliberate, the same rhythm she'd had as a child sneaking food from the kitchen when the house went quiet.
For a moment, the years between them fell away.
---
The Patrol
A flashlight beam swept the courtyard. Ortiz ducked behind a shed, yanking Jayden down with him.
"Two guards," Ortiz whispered. "Walking a loop."
Jayden counted their footsteps — thirty-five seconds between passes. The rhythm was exact. Predictable. Perfect.
When the beam passed again, he moved closer to the wall.
From this angle, he could see a line of maintenance hatches running beneath the dorm windows. One was slightly ajar. He smiled. "They left the door open."
Ortiz frowned. "You sure about this? If we get caught here—"
"We won't."
Jayden knelt by the hatch, fingers brushing the cool metal. He could feel the hum of the building — the pulse of air vents, the faint vibration of pipes. The same heartbeat he'd memorized from a dozen other cages.
This one wasn't any different.
He pulled the cover open just enough to peer inside. Darkness. Dust. Space to move.
He looked up once more, at the faint shadow moving behind that fifth window.
"Tomorrow," he whispered. "I'll bring her out."
---
The Fear That Felt Like Faith
They crawled back toward the fence, every movement slow and silent. The night was alive with the low buzz of electricity and the smell of rain still clinging to the ground.
Ortiz kept glancing back. "You sure we should wait?"
Jayden didn't answer at first. His eyes were fixed on the glowing horizon beyond the facility — the first edge of dawn.
"She's been in there too long," he said finally. "If we rush this, it ends wrong. She deserves more than a repeat of my mistakes."
Ortiz grunted. "Funny thing about mistakes — they look a lot like destiny from the inside."
Jayden smiled without humor. "Then maybe this one's both."
---
The Sketch
When they reached the safety of the woods again, Jayden sat with his back against a tree, pulling the sketchbook from his jacket.
The page from before was smudged with dirt and blood. He turned it and drew a new one — the fence, the dorm window, the outline of a hand pressed to glass.
Beneath it, he wrote: Close enough to hear her breathing.
He stared at it for a long time, rain starting again in soft sheets. Ortiz fell asleep against the roots beside him, but Jayden stayed awake, watching the lights of St. Briar through the trees.
He could almost feel the weight of her heartbeat matching his. Two halves of a fire waiting to reunite.
Tomorrow, the storm would break for real.