Drones.
I hear them before I see them.
That thin, mosquito-whine vibration that doesn’t belong to anything organic, sliding down out of the smoke-choked sky with predatory patience. It crawls over my spine and digs straight into the part of my brain that spent decades learning how to disappear before machines could decide I existed.
I look up as I push through the stairwell door back into the alley.
Three drones hover above the intersection at the far end of the block, matte-black ovals with pulsing blue lenses that swivel in perfect, synchronized arcs.
They lock onto me.
Every single lens pivots at once.
A cold, mechanical chime pulses through the night as their targeting systems handshake.
Municipal.
Alliance-adjacent.
Real-time feed to Oversight nodes I spent my entire adult life avoiding.
My mouth twists into something that might be a laugh.
“Yeah,” I murmur hoarsely to no one. “That tracks.” The name in the data-log attached to Fierson Grill, a Kimberly, flashed through my mind. This must be her.
Kimberly stirs weakly against my chest, her brow creasing like the noise or the tension in my body finally reached whatever thin layer of consciousness she’s clinging to.
The smell of her blood is stronger now.
Hot.
Wet.
Metallic.
The jalshagar answers it with a low, feral surge that makes my vision pulse at the edges again.
Mine.
No.
I clamp down hard on the instinct, forcing my shoulders to stay loose, my bone spurs to stay retracted, my grip on her to remain careful instead of crushing.
Her head lolls against my collarbone, her breath shuddering in shallow, hitching pulls that make my throat close up.
“Easy,” I whisper to her. “I’ve got you. I’m not dropping you. You’re okay. You’re okay. Just… stay here. Right here.”
Her lashes flutter.
She doesn’t wake.
The drones descend another meter.
The municipal alarm lattice escalates.
A public-address warning blares somewhere down the block, distorted by smoke and sirens and the rising roar of fire engines converging on the Fierson Grill.
“Unidentified combatant. Remain stationary. You are in violation of emergency containment protocols.”
