Time: 22:47
Message:Show complete. Asset secured. Option B active. Do not disturb.
I didn't wait for a reply.
"Formation," I said, my voice snapping into command mode to override the trembling in my limbs. "Alfie, you’re high-frequency energy. You need to ground before you enter. Do not spook her."
"I'm grounded," Alfie lied, vibrating so hard his teeth were chattering. "I'm solid."
"Kit," I turned to him. "You are the anchor. You enter first. Establish safety."
"Copy," Kit said. He rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck. "Furniture mode."
"I will monitor the environment," I said, though I knew I was lying. I wasn't going to monitor anything. I was going to drown.
We moved to the bus door.
It wasn't locked.
Kit pushed it open.
The air inside was dense. Humid. It felt like walking into a different climate zone. The smell was so thick it coated the back of my throat, tasting like sweetened lightning.
The front lounge was empty. Cal wouldn't follow us here, and we knew he must have retreated to a hotel or the crew bus, respecting the biological blast radius.
The door to the back lounge, the nest, was slid shut. But a note was taped to it.
Come in.
Just two words. No conditions. No technical riders.
Kit looked at me. I nodded.
He slid the door open.
The lights were off, save for the low-running LED strips along the floor, which she had set to a deep, pulsing indigo. The color of Alfie’s voice.
She had raided our bunks. The nest wasn't just pillows and blankets. It was a chaotic, architectural masterpiece of ourclothes. My spare bomber jacket. Kit’s flannel shirts. Alfie’s discarded hoodies. She had woven them into a circular fortress in the center of the floor.
And there she was.
Zia.
She was wearing nothing but one of my oversized t-shirts, the hem riding up her thighs, and Kit’s woolen socks. Her hair was a dark halo of tangles. Her skin was flushed a deep, feverish rose.
She looked up as the door opened. Her eyes were glossy, blown wide, swirling with instinct and need. But there was no fear.
She was holding the Exit Card in her hand.
My heart stopped.
She looked at the laminated card. Then she looked at us, three Alphas crowding the doorway, chests heaving, soaked in rain and lust and terror.
She flipped the card over.
And with a flick of her wrist, she tossed it onto the table, face down.
"Took you long enough," she rasped. Her voice was wrecked, beautiful, demanding.
