The grate slams shut behind me. I hear boots stomping past a heartbeat later. Not human. Not Helios. Too heavy. Toodeliberate.
My breath halts. I freeze. Don’t blink. Don’t even breathe.
The steps pass.
I climb.
The shaft angles up. I pull myself higher, knees slipping on the smoothed metal. My clothes catch in places, snagging. I swear under my breath again.
It’s hot in here. The recycled air isn’t cycling right—probably compromised during the raid. Sweat pools between my shoulder blades, slides down the inside of my thighs. I taste copper and panic.
My hand finds another latch, and I haul myself sideways into a wider stretch of the ductwork.
That’s when I hear it: his voice.
Not words. Not yet.
But a sound.
Low. Commanding. Inhuman.
Like a predator calling out to the world,I’m coming.
I stop. Slam a hand over my own mouth.
He’s looking for me.
And something inside me… thrills at that.
I hate it.
I hate that my thighs clench, that my heart pounds not just with fear, but with a rush ofsomething else.Something hotter. Wilder.
Gods, what’s wrong with me?
I press on, crawling now like a rat in a maze. My father’s voice rings in my ears—his polished tone soaked in disappointment.“You wouldn’t last a day without protection, Ayla. You think the stars owe you freedom, but they’ll chew you up and spit you out.”
Well, I’m still here, aren’t I?
And I’m not going to die like some helpless debutante in a ballgown.
I’m going to live, damn it.
I drop down another shaft, landing in a crouch in what looks like a utility corridor. Everything here is exposed wiring and metal bulkheads. The luxury has peeled away.
I jog through the hallway, ears straining for every sound. I keep low, pressing to the walls, ducking behind debris when I hear movement.
Finally, I reach the eastward wing—the observation deck I hid in earlier is a shamble of broken glass and warped frames now. The windows shattered during the breach.
But beyond it, at the end of the hall, I see it.
A glowing panel. A reinforced steel door.
The emergency escape pod bay.
I run.
I don’t care about the noise now. If someone hears me, they hear me. This is my shot.
