The tunnel stretched ahead, a yawning maw of darkness and rusted metal. The air was damp, heavy with the scent of decay. Their boots pounded against the uneven ground as they ran, shadows stretching and twisting under the flickering emergency lights.
Behind them, the Specialists were closing in.
Kiera's pulse was a frantic rhythm in her ears, but it wasn't just fear driving it. It was something else. Her muscles still thrummed from the fight. Her reaction had been too fast, too precise—like she had known what to do before it even happened.
Like it had been implanted in her.
She swallowed hard, her breath sharp as she pushed herself forward. Keep moving. Don't think. Just run.
Rhys was right beside her, his jaw tight with determination. Marek led the way, her weapon gripped tight, navigating the tunnel like she had been here before.
The tunnel walls trembled as a low hum vibrated through the air. The sound was distant but growing.
"Their drones," Marek muttered. "They'll be flushing us toward an exit."
Kiera's chest tightened. "Meaning?"
"Meaning if we don't change course, we'll be running straight into a trap."
Rhys swore under his breath. "Options?"
Marek glanced back at the approaching Specialists. "Only one."
She veered suddenly to the right, toward a rusted maintenance hatch set into the wall. The metal looked brittle with age, but it was still sealed shut with an old access panel. Marek yanked a blade from her belt and jammed it into the panel's seam, prying it open.
The tunnel trembled again. The hum was closer now.
Kiera turned, just in time to see movement in the distance. Sleek, spider-like drones poured in from the far end of the tunnel, their metal limbs clattering against the walls. Their glowing eyes pulsed in eerie synchronization, scanning, locking onto heat signatures.
They had seconds.
Marek ripped a bundle of exposed wires from the panel, sparks crackling as she twisted two together. The hatch released with a screech, and she shoved it open. "Go!"
Rhys dove in first. Kiera followed, forcing herself through the narrow gap. The space beyond was tight—a ventilation shaft, barely wide enough to crouch in.
Marek slid in after them and yanked the hatch shut just as the drones reached their position. Through the grating, Kiera saw their mechanical legs twitch, scanning, assessing.
She held her breath.
For a moment, silence.
Then, in eerie unison, the drones turned and scuttled away.
Kiera exhaled slowly, her limbs tense.
Marek didn't waste time. "Keep moving. This leads to another section of the Outskirts. If we stay low, we might have a chance."
They crawled through the shaft, the metal groaning under their weight. Every movement felt suffocating, every breath too loud. Kiera's thoughts raced, looping back to what had happened in the station.
She had fought like one of them. Moved like one of them.
She bit the inside of her cheek. No. That doesn't mean anything.
Except it did.
Rhys glanced back at her, his expression unreadable. He had seen it, too. The way she had broken free from the Specialist's grip. The way she had reacted before the attack had even landed.
He didn't say anything, but the look in his eyes said enough.
Kiera didn't know what scared her more—the Architects still hunting her, or the possibility that they had never stopped controlling her in the first place.