Chapter 26 – A Spark Between Us
The aftermath of the mimic battle lingered like a fog in the air. The team had regrouped in the safehouse—an old, repurposed train station hidden beneath a collapsed overpass outside the city. Dusty windows filtered the early morning light into streaks, casting everything in a dim golden hue.
No one said much at first. They were exhausted. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally.
Jett sat hunched over a damaged console, patching it back to life with scavenged parts and a torch lighter. Aya leaned against the wall, arms crossed, lost in her thoughts as she stared at the cracked concrete floor. Lena stood alone by the corner window, watching the outside world—the quiet trees, the wind pushing rusted leaves across the lot.
Noah walked in from the hallway, his jacket stained with mimic fluid, his face scratched and bruised. He carried two battered metal cups, steam rising faintly from both.
"Tea?" he offered, stepping beside Lena.
She turned slightly, a faint smirk breaking her otherwise distant expression. "Didn't know you were a tea guy."
"I'm not," he said. "But Jett found some dried leaves labeled 'wild mint.' We're pretending it's a real thing."
Lena chuckled softly, taking the cup. Their fingers brushed. The contact lingered.
For a moment, the noise of everything—the AI, the battles, the whispers of a world unraveling—fell away. All that remained was the quiet between them.
Lena looked back out the window. "When I was little, I used to pretend the wind could carry secrets. Like… the trees were whispering answers if you knew how to listen."
Noah tilted his head. "That's poetic. I just yelled at trees when I was mad."
She laughed again, this time a bit louder. "Of course you did."
He leaned beside her, sipping from his cup, then lowered it. "I was scared, you know. Back there. When I saw my mimic get behind you."
Lena turned to him, her expression softening. "Me too."
"I wanted to protect you," he continued, almost in a whisper. "And it made me realize… this isn't just about saving the world for me anymore."
She looked into his eyes—really looked—and saw the weight he carried. The boy who had cracked jokes to mask fear. The boy who always stepped up first. Who bled for others. Who smiled through pain.
She took a step closer.
"I know," she said. "And you don't have to do it alone."
The silence between them shifted, charged with something deeper. A breath held. A choice unspoken.
Then, as if pulled by the same thread, they kissed.
It wasn't perfect or practiced. It was raw and real, lips bruised from battle, fingers trembling with emotion. But it was them—broken and burning, yet still whole when they were together.
When they finally pulled back, Noah touched his forehead to hers.
"If this all ends tomorrow," he said, "I'm glad I found you today."
Lena closed her eyes. "It won't end tomorrow. We won't let it."
Footsteps approached from the hall. Jett cleared his throat from behind them.
"Not to interrupt the epic slow-burn moment," he said, raising his hands playfully, "but we've got movement on the outer sensors. Looks like a convoy. Non-hostile."
Lena blinked, stepping back from Noah but keeping his hand in hers. "Resistance?"
"Maybe," Jett said. "They're pinging an old security code—code 'Wisteria Dawn.' Does that ring a bell?"
Aya perked up from across the room. "Wisteria Dawn was one of the deep-cover tags Dad used. If someone's broadcasting it, they know who we are."
Jett nodded. "They'll be here in five. We need to decide fast—do we trust them?"
Lena exchanged a glance with Noah, then Aya.
"We hear them out," she said. "But we stay sharp. If they know about Wisteria Dawn, they may know more about our parents. Maybe even about what happened at Echo Cradle."
Noah squeezed her hand. "Then let's greet our visitors. And hope they don't bring more trouble."
The team readied themselves quickly, stashing tech, patching up wounds, activating the safehouse's countermeasures just in case. As the distant sound of vehicles rumbled into earshot, the tension returned.
But this time, something had shifted.
They were no longer just running or reacting. They had survived the AI's mind games, faced copies of themselves, and come out stronger—more connected.
Aya walked up beside Jett. "You did good, by the way. In the fight."
He raised an eyebrow. "Was that a compliment?"
"Don't get used to it," she muttered.
The lead vehicle—a long, armored transport with a white tree painted on its side—pulled to a stop in front of the safehouse. Dust kicked up as a figure emerged: a tall woman in a dark hooded cloak, flanked by two others in matching gear. She carried a metal case in one hand and a glowing sigil on her chest.
Aya's eyes narrowed. "That emblem… It's the same as the one from the dream."
The woman stepped forward, removing her hood. Her hair was silver-blonde, eyes piercing with memory.
"I know who you are," she said. "And I know what's coming. I was sent by someone who wanted you to have this."
She held out the case.
Lena stepped forward. "By who?"
The woman smiled faintly.
"By someone who knew your parents. And who believes your team… may be the only ones left who can stop what's coming next."
Noah looked at the others. The past wasn't just whispering anymore.
It was screaming.
To be continued...
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