My legs felt like lead. Every step was a battle. The roar of blood in my ears drowned out nearly everything else—everything but the sharp, rhythmic pounding of my boots against the pavement.
Reed's hand gripped my arm, pulling me forward. Claire was right beside me, her breathing harsh and ragged, her boots scuffing against the uneven asphalt. None of us spoke. We couldn't afford to.
We reached the end of the alley, breaking into the open streets. Dim neon signs flickered weakly overhead, casting distorted reflections in the puddles of the broken asphalt. The streets were mostly deserted, except for a few scattered people too wrapped up in their own worlds to notice three battered fugitives stumbling past them.
I glanced back, my vision blurring slightly. The smoke from the safehouse still lingered in the distance, curling into the night air like a dying flame. We had a head start. But not by much. And I knew it wasn't going to last.
The smoke slowly dissipated, drifting through the crumbling remnants of the safehouse. Knox stood in the center of the ruined room, one hand pressed lightly against her ribs where my sword had struck her. Blood seeped through her fingers, dark and warm. She exhaled sharply and straightened, rolling her neck with a low crack.
Her grin returned. The injuries didn't matter. Her eyes gleamed, bright with cold, lethal amusement.
"They're fast," she murmured softly.
Behind her, footsteps echoed against the scorched floors.
Tall. Imposing. Dressed in a sleek, black tactical suit.
Ezekiel Hart.
His heavy boots crunched softly against the debris-littered floor. His eyes—cold and calculating—swept over the room, lingering on the bloodied walls. Then they settled on Knox.
She met his gaze with a smirk. "Took you long enough."
Ezekiel didn't respond. Instead, he lifted his wrist, revealing a sleek, black holo-device attached to his forearm. With a single swipe of his fingers, the screen flickered to life. The faint, neon-green light from the device cast a subtle glow across his face.
A glowing red tracker pulsed softly on the screen.
Knox's eyes narrowed slightly, her smirk fading just a fraction. "You still tracking her?"
Ezekiel's lips twitched faintly. "Of course."
He tapped the holo-screen once. The red pulse flashed brighter. Then he turned toward the exit, his voice low and steady. "They're still moving. Not far."
Knox's eyes glimmered. She reached down and wiped the blood from her knife against her sleeve, anticipation flickering in her gaze. "Good," she murmured. "Let's go reel her back in."
We cut through the backstreets and alleys, avoiding the main roads. I barely noticed when the rain started. The first few drops were barely perceptible, misting against my skin. Then, gradually, the drizzle became a steady downpour, soaking through my already torn jacket.
The cold rain stung against the cuts on my arms, but I barely noticed. I was too focused on moving forward. Too focused on surviving.
But no matter how far we ran—I could feel it.
A faint, almost imperceptible tug in my gut. Something gnawing at the edges of my awareness. I didn't know what it was at first—just a faint, nagging sensation.
But it grew. Stronger. Heavier.
And then it clicked.
My breath caught sharply. I stumbled.
Reed grabbed my arm, steadying me. "Hey! You okay?" His voice was low, tense.
I barely heard him. Because I suddenly knew.
With trembling fingers, I summoned the holographic menu. The screen flickered, displaying the familiar grid of submenus and alerts. But in the bottom right corner, beneath the stamina and health stats, there it was.
A blinking red icon.
A tracking signal.
I stared at it. For half a second, I couldn't breathe. "No…"
Reed and Claire stopped beside me, their breathing heavy.
Claire's brows furrowed. "What is it?"
I wasn't listening. My eyes were locked onto the screen, wide with disbelief. "They're tracking me," I whispered hoarsely.
Reed's expression darkened. "What?"
I slowly lifted my arm, turning the holo-screen toward them. The blinking red icon pulsed softly. It was faint, almost unnoticeable—but it was there. And it was constant.
Claire's face paled. "The system…"
My stomach twisted into knots. They were tracking me. The entire time. I hadn't been sloppy. I hadn't been careless. It didn't matter how well I hid. It didn't matter how many times we switched locations, how many times we left false trails or avoided cameras.
Because they were never tracking me physically.
They were tracking me through the system itself.
My own admin privileges—the very thing that made me stronger—was the same thing that was giving them a direct line to me. And I hadn't even realized it.
Reed's jaw clenched. "Is there a way to turn it off?"
I frantically swiped through the menus, scanning the settings. My fingers trembled as I searched for anything—anything that would let me disable the signal.
Nothing.
My breath hitched. "I… I can't find it."
Claire let out a sharp breath. "They're going to be here soon, aren't they?"
I swallowed hard. "Yes."
Ezekiel's eyes remained fixed on the blinking red marker, the distance indicator steadily decreasing. He glanced toward Knox.
"Half a mile," he said simply.
Knox's grip on her knife tightened. A slow, wicked grin spread across her face. "Let's not keep her waiting."
And then they moved.