Chapter 12 · The Face of a Terrorist

"Don't move. Not a single inch," Elias hissed.

His arm locked across Nora's chest, slamming her back against the jagged remains of the projector console. Metal bit into her skin. Dust from the explosion still choked the air, but the red laser sights of the Enforcement squad were already dancing across the walls.

Nora could feel the heat of him through his tactical gear. His heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her shoulder blade. Between them, the neural bond hummed—a low-frequency vibration that felt like a warning siren in her skull.

"They're not taking us alive," Nora whispered, her voice cracking. "The recording—Elias, she was about to say what happens when the core restarts. We can't leave without knowing."

"We leave now or we die here," he snapped. He shifted his grip, fingers digging into her waist to haul her lower, away from the line of fire. "On three, we bolt for the vent. One—"

He never hit two.

Every screen in the room—and every flickering holographic billboard in the corridor outside—snapped to life with a deafening screech of static.

It wasn't a glitch. It was a takeover.

Serah Vale’s face filled the displays.