But then there he was. Brutal and beautiful and so damn careful, like I was something worth breaking himself for.
He hasn’t said it. Not in words.
But I know.
He won’t betray me.
Not now.
Maybe not ever.
And that’s… terrifying.
The last time I trusted someone like this, I woke up with a tracking chip in my spine and a reassignment order with my name spelled wrong.
But Tatek—he doesn’t flinch from danger. He walks into it for me. With me.
I glance up.
He’s watching me.
Not just the way someone on alert watches a corridor.
He’s watchingme.
Like I’m the only thing in the room that matters.
The system pings.
Access granted.
“I’ve got it,” I whisper.
He nods once, stepping in beside me. We move to the chute that leads into waste routing. It smells worse than the shaft from earlier. Chemical decay. Burned oil. Rust and heat.
He lowers himself first, then reaches up.
I hesitate.
Just for a second.
Then take his hand.
He doesn’t pull.
Heguides.
And I follow.
I follow him down into the chute, boots sliding against curved alloy slick with condensation and something I don’t want to think about. My weight catches at the elbow of the pipe, and I brace with one hand, wincing as metal scrapes skin. No time to bleed. We land hard in a maintenance access tunnel, low-ceilinged and thrumming faintly with static discharge.
Tatek checks the corner first, then looks back at me. “Straight shot through this tunnel. Should feed us out near the subgrid relay hub.”
“Where the emergency bypass ports are,” I add, breathless.
He nods. “Exactly.”
We move fast. Faster than the rumble in the pipes above us says we should. The station’s not screaming yet, but it’s clearing its throat. Surveillance density’s rising. I can feel it in the way the walls seem to buzz. Like they’re watching.
