“Ronan! Doors seal in twenty seconds—MOVE!”
I take a step back, pulling Lena with me.
Roscov takes a step forward.
He’s testing the space, testing me, calculating whether he can reach her before I kill him.
He can’t.
But psychopaths don’t always do math well.
“Did you know,” he says softly, “that the last thing she whispered before we transported her was your name?”
Lena’s breath catches.
My vision goes red.
I don’t remember pulling the trigger.
I barely register the recoil.
But Roscov dives behind the metal frame of Chamber Nine an instant before the shot lands. The bullet slams into steel, sparking violently.
He laughs — a hollow, echoing sound that ricochets through the corridor.
“Not today, Pierce!”
He disappears into the chamber, sealing the inner door behind him.
I start forward—
Lena grabs my arm. Hard.
“Ronan, no! That’s what he wants!”
She’s right.
But every cell in my body screams to chase him.
“We have to go,” she gasps. “Please—please. He isn’t worth losing me.”
Those words hit deeper than any bullet.
I turn fully to her. Her chest is heaving, her eyes desperate, her fingers digging into my sleeve like I’m the only solid thing left in her world.
Blast-door warnings blare around us.
Ten seconds.
I cup the side of her face — gently, even though my hands are still shaking with rage.
“I’m not losing you,” I breathe.
Then I pull her into a run.
We sprint down the hall — pain, exhaustion, fear all forgotten as adrenaline takes over. The blast door ahead is groaning, inching downward from the ceiling.
Eight seconds.
