The smoke stayed in the air long after the fire died.
Kevin stood at the edge of what used to be the compound, staring at the ruins as if his eyes could rebuild it. Broken concrete, twisted metal, and blackened ground stretched out before him. The place that had felt like hope only hours ago was now nothing more than proof.
Proof that the Obsidian Circle never missed twice.
Behind him, the survivors moved quietly. No one spoke unless necessary. There were no arguments, no panic—just exhaustion and grief pressed down so hard it felt physical.
Six people.
That was all that was left.
Mara sat on a fallen slab of concrete, wrapping a bandage around her arm with one hand. Her movements were slow, careful. Every few seconds, she paused, as if the pain needed permission to exist.
Elena was nearby, dismantling what remained of the communication equipment. Her face was unreadable, but her eyes were red. She hadn't slept. None of them had.
And Shalom—
Kevin turned.
She lay on a makeshift bed inside the underground tunnel they had barely escaped through. Her shoulder was wrapped tightly, the fabric already stained dark. She was conscious, but weak, her breathing shallow.
Kevin walked toward her and knelt beside her.
"You shouldn't be up," he said softly.
She opened her eyes. "You shouldn't look like that."
He tried to smile. Failed.
"How bad?" he asked.
"I'll live," she said. "They didn't want to kill me."
Kevin's jaw tightened. "Victor."
She nodded slightly. "He wanted you to feel it."
Kevin looked away. The ground beneath him was still warm.
"I won't let him touch you again," he said.
Shalom reached out and caught his hand. Her grip was weak but firm enough to stop him.
"Kevin," she said. "Listen to me."
He looked back at her.
"If you start fighting this with anger," she continued, "he's already won."
Kevin didn't respond.
Because anger was the only thing holding him together.
They regrouped once the sun climbed higher.
The ruins were no longer safe. The Circle would send another team soon—not to attack, but to clean. To erase any trace that resistance had ever existed there.
"We move in thirty minutes," Mara said. "Light gear only."
"Where?" Elena asked.
Mara looked at Kevin.
He hadn't spoken much since the transmission.
"There's an old transit hub," Kevin said finally. "Underground. Decommissioned. Off-grid."
Elena frowned. "The Circle sealed that place years ago."
Kevin nodded. "Which means they think it's dead."
Mara studied him carefully. "You're sure?"
"I trained there," he said. "Before Reaper."
The name still felt heavy in his mouth.
They didn't argue.
They trusted him.
Or maybe they had no better option.
The journey took hours.
They moved through broken roads, hidden tunnels, and forgotten infrastructure. Shalom was carried most of the way. Kevin insisted, despite the protests.
"You're reopening your wound," she whispered at one point.
"I don't care."
"I do," she replied.
He slowed after that—but didn't stop.
The transit hub was buried beneath layers of concrete and time. Rusted signs hung crookedly. Old train tracks disappeared into darkness.
"This place feels wrong," Elena murmured.
"It's supposed to," Kevin said. "That's why it survived."
They sealed the entrance behind them.
For the first time since the attack, there was quiet.
Real quiet.
And with it came the weight of everything they had lost.
Night fell underground.
Kevin sat alone on a platform edge, staring into the dark tunnel ahead. His mind wouldn't stop replaying everything—Jace's scream, Shalom's blood, Victor's calm voice.
He felt something sit beside him.
"You always isolate when things get bad," Elena said quietly.
"I work better alone," Kevin replied.
"No," she said. "You hurt alone."
He didn't answer.
Elena sighed. "Victor is escalating fast."
"He always does when he feels challenged," Kevin said.
"You're more than a challenge," she said. "You're a symbol now."
Kevin scoffed. "I never wanted that."
"Doesn't matter," Elena replied. "The Circle doesn't care about intent."
Kevin's hands clenched. "They went after my sister."
Elena's voice softened. "I know."
"They didn't touch her physically," he continued. "That means they're saving her."
Elena went still.
"That's Phase Three," she said slowly.
Kevin turned to her. "Say it."
"They'll use her to pull you out," Elena said. "Publicly. Brutally."
Kevin stood.
"Then we move first."
Later that night, Shalom woke up to voices.
She stayed still, listening.
Kevin. Mara. Elena.
"They're bleeding us slowly," Mara was saying. "We can't survive attrition."
"We don't need to," Kevin replied. "We need information."
Elena nodded. "I can get you access."
Mara frowned. "Access to what?"
"The Circle's internal network," Elena said. "Old credentials. Dangerous ones."
Kevin looked at her sharply. "That system is layered."
"I know," Elena said. "I helped design part of it."
Silence followed.
Mara finally spoke. "You're suggesting infiltration."
"Yes," Kevin said. "Direct."
Mara shook her head. "That's suicide."
Kevin's voice was calm. Too calm.
"No," he said. "That's how we cut the head off."
Shalom's breath caught.
She pushed herself up despite the pain and stepped into the light.
"No," she said weakly.
All three turned.
"Shalom, you shouldn't—" Kevin started.
"You're not going alone," she said.
Kevin walked toward her instantly. "Absolutely not."
She met his gaze without fear. "You don't get to decide that anymore."
Mara studied her. "You're injured."
"And still useful," Shalom replied. "The Circle trained me too."
Kevin shook his head. "They'll recognize you."
She swallowed. "They already do."
The room went quiet.
Shalom looked at Kevin, her eyes steady despite the tremor in her body.
"They marked me long before you," she said. "You just didn't know."
Kevin felt something cold settle in his chest.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
She hesitated.
Then spoke.
"There was a mission," she said. "Years ago. An internal purge."
Elena stiffened. "The Serpent Protocol?"
Shalom nodded.
Kevin stared at her. "You were part of that?"
"Yes," she whispered. "And I failed."
Mara exhaled sharply. "No one survives failing Serpent."
Shalom looked away. "Someone covered it up."
Kevin's voice was barely audible. "Who?"
Shalom lifted her eyes.
"Victor."
The name landed like a gunshot.
Kevin felt the room tilt.
"He spared you?" he asked.
"He owned me after that," Shalom said. "Until I disappeared."
Kevin understood then.
Why Victor hated their relationship.
Why he targeted her so carefully.
This wasn't just betrayal.
It was personal.
Kevin stepped closer, resting his forehead against hers.
"We finish this," he said quietly. "Together."
Shalom nodded.
Outside the transit hub, far above ground, Obsidian Circle satellites shifted again.
Victor Kane watched new data scroll across his screen.
Infiltration risks.
Internal fractures.
Two names highlighted in red.
Kevin Blackwood.
Shalom Adebayo.
Victor smiled.
"Good," he said softly. "Come closer."