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Kang’s voice booms across the night, not loud but loaded. “You two. Over here.”

We go. There’s no choice.

Kang stands apart from his men, weapon slung but not loose. His eyes are the same—cold, calculating, but with a new glint. He gestures at the ditch.

“Explain,” he says.

Maven starts to talk, but Kang ignores them, looking straight at me.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he says, voice flat.

“Neither are you,” I reply, matching his tone.

A flicker of amusement, then gone. “The Ghoul pack was tracked for two days. We baited them with the blue resin. You walked into the middle of an experiment.”

“I don’t care about your experiment,” I say. “We were just trying to get home.”

He looks at the RadShield pendant at my throat, then at the pack on my back. “You have something you’re not supposed to have. Protocol says I take it.”

Maven bristles. “She saved my life. Is that against protocol, too?”

Kang ignores them. “You’re a scientist. But you fight like a soldier.”

I shrug. “Maybe I used to be.”

He steps closer. The tattoos on his arms are trembling now, the lines blurring with each pulse. “You’re not listed in the registry. Why?”

I stare him down. “Guess they wanted to forget me.”

For a moment, the silence is absolute. The drone hovers overhead, casting a perfect blue circle around the three of us. Then Kang nods, just once. He signals his men. “Sweep’s done. Burn the bodies. We move.”

The soldiers comply without a word. They drag the Ghouls into a pile, douse them with accelerant, and set them alight. The smell is worse than anything in the labs, a mix of seared meat and ozone and old, old fear. Kang turns to leave, but then pauses, glancing at Maven. “Watch your friend.”

Then he’s gone, leading his men back into the dark.

Maven and I stand there, the heat of the fire licking our faces. I feel empty, like the part of me that fought the Ghoul is gone again, buried under the weight of the night.

Maven finally breaks the silence. “Lucky timing,” they say, voice thin.

I nod. “Yeah. Lucky.”

But inside, I know better. Nothing in this world happens by accident.

And Kang knows it, too.

By the time the Ghouls are nothing but cinder and the blue resin smell has faded, the night’s heat is spent. The soldiers spread out, boots scuffing the ground in a practiced choreography, rifles slung in that too-casual way that means readiness, not relief. Kang moves with them—at first—then steps out of their orbit and makes a beeline for me.

He holsters his sidearm, hands free, posture loose but eyes locked. A heartbeat later, Maven materializes at my side, running interference with a cocked eyebrow and a curl of the lip.

Kang stops close enough that I can see the sweat beading at his temple, the cut on his jaw from where a Ghoul must have nicked him in the scuffle. If it hurts, he doesn’t show it.

“Diana,” he says, flat and uninflected. “You’re a long way from anywhere you’re supposed to be.”

Maven starts to reply, but Kang’s focus is absolute; the rest of the world dissolves. His gaze flicks over my hands, my face, then down to the RadShield pendant at my collar. Before I can answer, a junior soldier—female, built like a pile driver—edges in. She tugs the sleeve of Kang’s uniform with a familiarity that says she’s allowed. “Captain, comms wants your report.”

He doesn’t look at her. “Tell them to hold. Five minutes.”

She hesitates, then nods. “Reyes, sir. I’ll relay.” She withdraws, but not before shooting me a stare loaded with a thousand unasked questions.