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"Mercer, hands on the wall."
The prisoner didn't move. Just stood there in the middle of the holding bay with his wrists still cuffed, head tilted like he was listening to something I couldn't hear.
"I said hands on the wall." I kept my sidearm low but ready. "Don't make me ask again."
"You won't have to." His voice was quiet. Tired. "In about ninety seconds, Gate Three's going to fail. Forty seconds after that, the blast reaches this corridor."
"What?"
"You should uncuff me now," he said. "You're going to need me mobile."
I stepped closer, weapon up. "How about you tell me what you just said, real slow."
Jude Mercer looked at me then. Really looked. His eyes were gray, the kind that picked up light wrong, and there was something in them that made my skin go cold.
"This is your first time," he said. "Isn't it."
"First time what?"
"Dying here."
The alarm went off before I could answer. Not the standard lockdown pulse. The emergency evac shriek, the one they only used for containment breaches or—
"Structural failure, Gate Three," the PA system announced. A woman's voice, clipped and dead calm. "All personnel evacuate via northern passages. Repeat, evacuate north. Gate Three is not secure."
"Move." I grabbed Mercer's arm and shoved him toward the corridor. "Now."
"North won't work," he said. "The blast wave funnels through the main passages. You want the service ducts."
"I want you to shut up and run."
He didn't run. He walked, steady and unhurried, like a man who'd done this before. I kept my hand on his shoulder, half pushing, half dragging.
"How did you know?" I said. "About the gate."
"I've been here eleven times." He glanced back at me. "Twelve, counting this one."
"You're talking crazy."
"Yeah." He smiled, and it was the saddest thing I'd ever seen. "I know."
The floor shook. Not hard, just a low rumble that made the lights flicker. I'd felt earthquakes before. This wasn't that. This was something breaking, something big, and it was getting closer.
"Service duct," Mercer said. He stopped at a maintenance panel, the kind that needed a security override. "You have a key card?"
"We're not going in there."
"Then we're dead in about seventy seconds."
I stared at him. At the gray eyes and the too-calm voice and the way he stood like he'd already made peace with what came next.
"Why should I believe you?"
"Because last time, you didn't," he said. "And I watched you burn."
The second shake was harder. The lights went out, came back red. Emergency power. I heard shouting from the far end of the corridor, boots on metal, people running.
"Key card," Mercer said again. "Please."
I pulled it from my belt and slapped it against the panel. The lock disengaged with a hiss. Mercer yanked the hatch open and ducked inside. I followed, because what else was I going to do, and pulled the hatch shut behind us.
The duct was narrow. Dark. The only light came from the red strips along the floor, emergency guides that led toward the outer sections. Mercer moved fast now, hunched low, and I stayed on his heels.
"How many times?" I said. "You said eleven."
"Eleven times I've died here." His voice echoed off the metal walls. "You've died eight. Your squad, nine. The bomber gets away every time."
"There's a bomber?"
"Yeah."
"Who?"
"Someone on your side," he said. "Someone who wants this to keep happening."
The duct turned hard left. Mercer took the corner without slowing. I nearly lost my footing, caught myself on the wall, kept moving.
"Why you?" I said. "Why do you remember and I don't?"
"I don't know." He stopped at a junction, looked both ways, chose right. "I woke up the first time thinking I'd been knocked out. Took me three resets to figure out what was happening."
"And you didn't tell anyone."
"I told you. Last time. You shot me."
I almost laughed. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. You thought I was part of it. The blast, the setup. You put two rounds in my chest and left me to bleed out while you went after your sister."
That stopped me cold. "How do you know about Kira?"
"She's in the north passage right now," Mercer said. "Running with the rest of them. She's going to die in about thirty seconds when the ceiling comes down."
"No."
"Unless you get there first."
He started moving again, faster this time, and I followed because he knew her name, he knew where she was, and if he was lying I'd kill him myself but if he wasn't—
The blast hit.
Not close. Not yet. But I felt it through the walls, a pressure wave that made my ears pop and my teeth ache. The duct groaned, metal shrieking, and somewhere behind us something gave way with a sound like the world splitting open.
"Faster," Mercer said. He wasn't even breathing hard. "We've got maybe forty seconds."
"Where are we going?"
"Emergency exit near the old armory. It's shielded, reinforced. We can ride it out there."
"And then what?"
"Then we wake up," he said, "and we do it again."
The duct ended at another hatch. This one had a manual release, a wheel lock crusted with rust. Mercer grabbed it with both hands, still cuffed, and started turning. I moved to help him, got my hands on the wheel, and together we forced it open.
Heat poured through the gap. Not fire, not yet, but the air was wrong, thick and chemical-sharp, and I could hear the roar now, getting louder, closer.
"Go," I said. "Go, go—"
Mercer dropped through first. I followed, landed hard on concrete, rolled to my feet. We were in a service bay, empty except for old crates and a stack of blast panels someone had left against the wall. The exit was across the room, a heavy door with a wheel lock that matched the hatch.
"Help me with this," Mercer said. He was already at the door, pulling at the lock. I grabbed the other side, threw my weight into it. The wheel turned, slow and grudging, and the door started to swing open—
That's when I saw her.
Kira.
She was on the other side of the door, in the corridor, and she wasn't alone. Six, maybe seven people with her, all of them running, all of them headed our way. She saw me and her face went white.
"Lyra—"
The ceiling came down behind them.
Not all of it. Just a section, a slab of reinforced concrete that dropped like a hammer and crushed the last three people in line. I saw it happen. Saw them disappear under the weight. Heard the sound, wet and final, and then the dust hit and I couldn't see anything.
"Kira!" I lunged forward but Mercer caught my arm, pulled me back.
"Not yet," he said. "Wait—"
"Let go of me—"
"Lyra, wait—"
The blast wave came through the gap where the ceiling had been. I felt it before I saw it, a wall of heat and pressure that turned the air to glass. Kira screamed. I tried to reach her, tried to pull her through the door, but the wave hit first and she was gone, just gone, and the fire was everywhere, eating the walls, eating the floor, and I couldn't breathe, couldn't move—
Mercer's hand was still on my arm.
I looked at him. Through the flames, through the smoke. His face was calm. Waiting.
"I'm sorry," he said.
Then the fire took us both.
***
"Mercer, hands on the wall."
I was standing in the holding bay. Weapon drawn. Mercer in front of me, hands cuffed, head tilted like he was listening to something I couldn't hear.
I couldn't breathe.
Couldn't think.
I'd been burning. I'd been dead. I'd watched Kira die and then I'd died and now I was here, in the bay, with the same lights and the same floor and the same man standing in front of me like nothing had happened.
"You remember," Mercer said. It wasn't a question.
I raised the gun. Aimed it at his chest. "What did you do to me?"
"I didn't do anything." He didn't move. Didn't even flinch. "This is the blast. The reset. It pulls us back every time we die."
"That's not possible."
"No," he said. "It's not. But here we are."
My hand was shaking. I steadied it. "Tell me how to stop it."
"I don't know yet." He took a step toward me. Slow. Careful. "But I know who's making it happen."
"Who?"
"Your boss," he said. "Violetta Drake. She's the one who keeps opening Gate Three. Every reset, same decision. She knows what happens and she does it anyway."
The alarm started. Gate Three failure. Evacuate north.
I didn't lower the gun. "Why would she do that?"
"Because every time we die," Mercer said, "someone out there walks away with something they shouldn't have. Money, tech, leverage. I don't know what yet. But Drake's getting paid."
"And you're telling me this because?"
"Because last time you shot me," he said, "and Kira still died. This time, maybe we try something different."
I stared at him. At the gray eyes and the calm voice and the way he said her name like he'd known her all his life.
The floor shook.
"Uncuff me," Mercer said. "Please. We don't have time."
I stepped forward. Put the gun to his temple. Felt the heat of him through the barrel, close enough to see the pulse in his throat.
"If you're lying," I said, "I'll kill you myself."
"I know," he said. "You've done it before."
I found the key on my belt. Unlocked the cuffs. They hit the floor with a metallic clang.
Mercer rubbed his wrists. Looked at me. Smiled that sad, tired smile.
"Service ducts," he said. "Let's go save your sister."
The second alarm went off. The lights went red. And somewhere in the north passage, Kira was running toward a ceiling that was about to fall.
I grabbed Mercer's arm. "Move."
We ran.
Behind us, the PA crackled to life. Violetta Drake's voice, smooth and controlled.
"All personnel, this is Director Drake. Gate Three is now open. Proceed with evacuation protocol. I repeat, Gate Three is