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The drone passed the window for the third time. Mara counted the rotors—eight—heavy lift, not surveillance. They were dropping something. Probably scan-nets. Probably worse.
Kade sat on the exam table, breathing too fast, one hand pressed against the fresh seal over his ribs. The other hand was loose at his side. Loose the way a gun was loose in a holster.
She had maybe five minutes before Oryx knocked.
"We're moving," she said.
He didn't look at her. His eyes tracked the window, the door, the vent overhead. Threat assessment on automatic. She'd seen jacked mercs do that before they crashed or started swinging.
"Moving where." Not a question. His voice was flat.
"Downstairs. Old subway access behind the kitchen."
"That tracked?"
"Not yet."
"You sure?"
She wasn't. But the block maps hadn't updated since her mom died, and Oryx didn't hire locals. They'd come in cold, top-down.
"Sure enough," she said.
She grabbed the med pack, two stim shots, one clot-shot, and the folding clinic key that unlocked the tunnel door. Her pistol went into her jacket pocket. Not her good pocket. The one with the broken seam, where her hand could push through to her belt rig if she needed it fast.
Kade stood. Smooth. Too smooth for someone she'd cracked open twenty minutes ago.
"You shouldn't be walking," she said.
He tilted his head, still watching the door. "I can walk."
"That's not—"
Boots hit the alley below. Radios crackled.
Mara killed the lights.
Kade moved before she did. One step, and he was at the window, back flat to the wall, looking down through the gap in the shade. She could see the line of his jaw, the tension through his shoulders.
"Four on foot," he said. "Two rifles, two stun batons. One scan-pack. No heavy."
She believed him. She didn't want to.
"They say anything?"
"Perimeter hold. Waiting on clearance to breach."
She pulled the pack onto her shoulders, locked the trauma case. "Then we go now."
Kade turned. His eyes caught the dim wash from the street. Pale. Ice-pale. She'd thought it was shock before. Now she wasn't sure.
"You got a back way?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"You trust it?"
"I trust it more than the front."
He didn't smile. He nodded, once, and moved toward the door.
She stopped him with a hand on his arm. His skin was hot through the shirt. Fever-hot.
"You crash on me down there," she said, "I'm leaving you."
He looked at her hand. Then at her.
"Okay."
She let go.
They went down the back stairs. Her clinic sat over the noodle shop, and the shop's kitchen ran twenty hours a day. Not now. The cook was gone. The burners were cold. Someone had left a pot half-full of broth, and it smelled wrong.
She unlocked the floor panel behind the sink. The tunnel access was a narrow chute, just wide enough for supply crates. Or one person at a time.
"You first," she said.
Kade stared down into the dark. "What's below?"
"Service line. Used to run freight to the lower decks before they cut the zone."
"Still powered?"
"Emergency lights. Maybe."
He swung into the chute without another word. She heard his boots hit metal three meters down. Then nothing.
She followed.
The drop rattled her teeth. She landed hard, pack swinging into her spine, and Kade caught her elbow before she tipped. His hand was steady. His grip was not.
"Easy," he said.
She pulled free and flicked on her wrist light. The tunnel stretched both ways, low-ceilinged and filthy. Fifty years of rust and old plastic. The emergency lights were dead.
"East," she said. "Three hundred meters. There's a junction that cuts under the transit line. We can surface past the checkpoint."
"You done this before?"
"Once."
"Recently?"
"No."
He looked at her. Then he started walking.
She followed, keeping the light low. The tunnel magnified sound. Every step, every breath. She could hear his breathing shift, shallow and controlled. Combat rhythm. He wasn't limping. He should be limping.
Behind them, something clanged. Metal on metal. Far off, but not far enough.
"They're in," Kade said.
She didn't answer. She just moved faster.
The tunnel bent left. The air got colder. Her light caught old graffiti, faded advertisements for transit lines that didn't exist anymore. Kade stayed two steps ahead, and she watched his shoulders. Tight. Tighter than before.
"You good?" she asked.
"Yeah."
He wasn't.
The junction was a four-way split, marked by a rusted sign she couldn't read. Mara aimed for the north passage. Kade stopped.
"Someone's ahead," he said.
She listened. Heard nothing.
"You sure?"
He didn't answer. He just turned, facing back the way they'd come, and his whole body changed. Stance wider. Hands open. Ready.
She heard it then. Footsteps. Fast. Multiple.
"Go," Kade said.
She didn't move. "You can't—"
"Go. I'll catch up."
"Bullshit."
He glanced back. His eyes were wrong. Wider. The pupils too wide. She'd seen implant feedback do that. Saw it right before someone flatlined or snapped.
"Mara. Go."
Her name in his mouth stopped her cold.
The footsteps got louder.
Kade took one step toward the sound, and his hand went to his side. No weapon. But he moved like there was.
She pulled the pistol.
"Don't," she said.
He stopped.
"Turn around," she said. "We're both going."
He didn't turn. "They'll follow."
"I don't care."
"You should."
The first silhouette appeared at the bend. Tactical gear. Rifle up.
Kade moved.
Fast. Faster than her eye could track. He closed the distance before the rifle swung, got inside the guard, and she heard bone crack. The Oryx soldier went down. The second one fired.
The shot hit the wall. Sparks and concrete dust.
Kade took the rifle, stripped it, and threw it. Not at the shooter. At the tunnel ceiling. The support beam rang like a bell, and a sheet of old paneling dropped. The second soldier stumbled.
Kade didn't stop. He hit the man twice, head and chest, and the guy folded.
Mara's hands were shaking.
Kade turned. Blood on his knuckles. Breathing hard. His eyes still wrong.
"Run," he said.
She didn't run. She crossed the space between them, pulled the clot-shot from her pack, and jammed it into his neck.
He jerked back, hand coming up, but she'd already triggered it.
"Move," she said.
He stared at her. The shot was hitting. She could see it in his face. The pupils contracting. The fever flush dropping.
"Now," she said.
He moved.
They ran. North passage, then west, following the old markers she'd memorized years ago. Her legs burned. Her pack kept sliding. Kade stayed close, too close, his shoulder brushing hers every few steps. She didn't tell him to give her space. She didn't trust him not to fall.
The tunnel opened into a wider service shaft. Ladder bolted to the wall, heading up. She could see pale light above. Real light.
"That's it," she said.
He looked up, then at her. "You first."
"No. You first. I'm not pulling you up if you drop."
His mouth twitched. Not a smile. Something worse.
"Fair," he said.
He climbed. She waited, counting his progress, listening for pursuit. Nothing yet. But they'd find the bodies. They'd find the blood.
She started up.
Her wrist light died halfway. She climbed in the dark, hand over hand, boots scraping rust. Above, Kade hit the access hatch and shoved it open. Gray sky poured in. Smog and rain.
She pulled herself out into an alley she didn't recognize. Kade was leaning against the wall, breathing hard, blood seeping through the shirt over his ribs.
"You're bleeding again," she said.
"I know."
"Sit."
"No time."
He was right.
Her pocket buzzed. Message incoming. She pulled out her old jacked phone, the one without a legal ID string, and opened it.
One line. From her brother's secured drop.
*Contract transferred. New holder: Oryx Dominion. Expedited.*
She read it twice. Then a third time.
Kade was watching her.
"What," he said.
She didn't answer. She just closed the phone and started walking.