Morning came in shades of gray.
Fog still clung to the road like a second skin, coiling around the wheels as we pushed forward. No birds. No sun. No sound but the van's soft grumble and the occasional creak of metal shifting against its own weight.
No one had spoken in hours.
The silence wasn't empty. It was full.
Full of what we were all refusing to say.
I sat with my arms crossed tight over my chest, staring at the cargo hold partition like I could see through it. Like I could will it still.
I couldn't feel Nine through the bond out here—distance blurred the thread, muffled it. I felt him only in moments. Fleeting impressions. A flicker of warmth when I closed my eyes. A whisper of need when I thought of him too hard.
But it wasn't enough.
He's alright, I told myself. They wouldn't risk touching him while I'm still useful.
But usefulness was a sliding scale in this world.
One mistake. One hesitation. One breath in the wrong direction—
And everything could collapse.
Kol passed me a ration bar. I didn't want it, but I unwrapped it anyway.
Routine was safety.
He leaned against the metal wall beside me, chewing in silence. After a moment, he spoke.
"Back in Sector Five, when they did that first long-range hybrid test—you remember what happened?"
I glanced at him. "Yeah."
"Thirty-seven people dead in six minutes."
I didn't answer.
He looked at the panel between us and the crates. "Whatever's in that box... it's not meant for transport. It's meant for containment."
Still, I didn't speak.
"We should've destroyed it."
"You want to go back and try?"
Kol snorted softly. "Not a chance."
He moved away after that, leaving me with the taste of stale protein and the sound of old ghosts whispering.
Late afternoon.
The fog finally began to thin, peeling back into ragged patches as the road cut closer to the outer zone drop point.
That should have been a relief.
It wasn't.
Visibility meant exposure.
I stayed by the partition most of the day, checking temperature levels on the internal monitor. Watching for fluctuations.
Everything read normal.
But nothing felt normal.
The crate hadn't moved. No sounds. No rattling. But the pressure in the air had changed.
It was like something was listening now.
Breathing.
Waiting.
Nyx hadn't said a word in hours.
That scared me more than anything.
Nightfall again.
Third night.
We were supposed to arrive by morning. Two more checkpoints. One final scan. And then we would be done.
I sat alone in the back while the others rotated watch.
I didn't sleep.
Didn't want to.
Couldn't.
Not with that thing behind us.
Not with Nine somewhere too far away to reach.
Stay safe, I whispered through the bond.
I'm trying, came his faint reply.
It was enough.
But barely