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"Lightborn."
Rachel Flint doesn't lower the gun. She steps closer. Her flashlight cuts across Eli's chest like a blade, and he can see her finger resting on the trigger.
Not pressing.
Just waiting.
Eli's hand still tingles where the glow leaked out. He shoves it behind his back—stupid, because she already saw. The woman with the broken arm is staring at him like he grew a second head. The kid's gone silent, pressed flat against the wall.
"I don't know what you're talking about." His voice comes out thin.
Rachel tilts her head. "Yeah. You do."
She's maybe thirty. Short hair, tactical vest, boots that don't slip. Council issue. The patch on her shoulder confirms it—white circle, black quadrant. Suppression detail. He's seen the posters. *Unauthorized Light Manifestation: Report Immediately.*
Shoot-on-sight isn't a warning.
It's policy.
"Look," Eli says, scrambling. "I got shocked or something. Faulty wire. Happens all the time down here, right? Static buildup—"
"Static doesn't glow gold." Rachel's voice is flat. "Static doesn't push back shadows."
She saw that too.
Eli takes a step back. His shoulders hit the wall. Nowhere to go. The alley's a dead end, and Rachel's blocking the only exit. Past her, two more council agents are moving in. One's got a rifle. The other's holding something that looks like a taser but bigger.
"Hands out," Rachel says.
"I didn't do anything."
"Hands. Out."
He brings them forward slowly. They're shaking. He can't stop them. His right palm still feels warm, like something's coiled under the skin waiting to crack through.
Rachel glances at his hand. Her jaw tightens.
"How long?"
"How long what?"
"How long have you been manifesting?" She says it like a diagnosis. Terminal. "Days? Weeks?"
"I'm not—" He stops. Her eyes are cold. Lying isn't working. "It just happened. Just now. First time. I swear."
"Sure."
"I'm serious. I don't know what that was. I don't know how to—"
"Then you're lucky." Rachel cuts him off. "Most Lightborn burn out in a week. You get to skip the part where you lose control and torch a city block."
She raises the gun.
Eli's heart stops.
"Wait—"
"Council directive." Her voice is quiet. Almost apologetic. "Unauthorized manifestation in a blackout zone. No trial. No appeal."
The woman with the broken arm makes a choking sound. The kid starts crying.
Eli can't move. His legs won't work. He's staring down the barrel and his brain's stuck on one thought: *I didn't find Maya yet.*
Rachel's finger shifts.
"Ghost."
Eli forgets how to breathe.
"What?"
"Your sister." Rachel's voice drops. "Maya Cross. Scout team seven. Call sign Ghost."
The world tilts.
"You know her." It's not a question. His throat's closing up.
Rachel's expression doesn't change. "She went into zone four three months ago. Never came back."
"She's alive." He hears himself say it. Desperate. "She has to be. I saw her name on the—"
"On what?" Rachel's eyes narrow. "What did you see?"
He stops. Because he can't tell her about the radio log. The one he pulled off the council server two weeks ago. The one that said *Ghost, zone four deep, unresponsive but signal active.* If he says that, she'll know he's been hacking restricted feeds.
Rachel waits.
Eli swallows. "Nothing. I just—people say she might still be in there."
"People say a lot of things." Rachel's voice goes flat again. "Most of them are dead."
She adjusts her grip.
Eli's pulse hammers in his ears. He wants to ask what she knows. If Maya's really gone. If there's any chance.
But Rachel's already decided.
He's out of time.
Then the flashlight explodes.
Not Rachel's. The one the agent on the left is holding. It pops like a firecracker, sparks everywhere, and the guy yells and drops it. Glass shatters on concrete.
Rachel spins, gun tracking.
Someone laughs.
It's low and rough, coming from the dark at the far end of the alley. A shadow peels off the wall. Tall. Broad shoulders. Moving like he's got all the time in the world.
"Flint." The voice is casual. Like they're old friends. "You're slipping. Didn't even hear me."
Rachel's jaw clenches. "Greywolf."
The man steps into the thin edge of her flashlight beam. Eli gets a glimpse: scarred face, gray streaks in dark hair, a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. He's holding something small in one hand.
A little black sphere.
Flash bomb.
Greywolf tosses it underhand.
Rachel dives left. The other agents scramble. Eli throws his arms up.
The world goes white.
Even through his eyelids it's blinding. Shouting. Boots on concrete. Something metal clattering. Then a hand grabs his collar and yanks him backward.
"Move," Greywolf growls in his ear.
Eli stumbles. His vision's full of white spots. He can't see. Greywolf's dragging him anyway—fast, around a corner, through a gap in the rubble that wasn't there before. His ears are ringing.
They hit another corridor. Darker. Greywolf lets go and Eli crashes into a wall, gasping.
"What—"
"Shut up." Greywolf's already moving. He doesn't look back. "You want to get shot, stay here and wait for her."
Eli pushes off the wall and runs.
Two more turns. Down a set of stairs that shouldn't exist. Into a space that smells like rust and old smoke. Greywolf finally stops. He pulls a chem light off his belt, cracks it, and pale green glow fills the room.
It's a supply cache. Canned food stacked against one wall. Bottles of water. A couple of blankets.
Greywolf dumps his pack on the floor and turns around.
Eli's still catching his breath. "Who—"
Greywolf moves.
One second he's across the room. The next he's right in front of Eli, and there's a knife pressed against his ribs.
Cold steel. Sharp enough that Eli feels it through his jacket.
"You owe me," Greywolf says.
Eli freezes. The knife digs in deeper. Not cutting yet.
Just promising.
"I don't have anything," Eli manages.
Greywolf smiles. It's not friendly. "Yeah. You do."
He leans in close. His breath smells like coffee and something bitter.
"You're Lightborn." Greywolf's voice drops. Almost gentle. "That makes you the most valuable thing in this zone."
The knife stays exactly where it is.
"And now you're mine."
Eli doesn't move. Can't. His heart's slamming against his ribs and all he can think is *I'm going to die here.*
Greywolf's smile widens.
"Don't worry, kid. I'll keep you alive." He pauses. "Long as you do exactly what I say."
Behind them, somewhere in the dark, footsteps.
Rachel's voice echoes down the corridor. Distant but getting closer.
"Greywolf. I know you're here."
Greywolf doesn't even glance back. He's still looking at Eli. Waiting.
"So." The knife presses harder. "We got a deal?"
Eli doesn't have a choice.
"Yeah," he whispers.
Greywolf pulls the knife back. Just enough that Eli can breathe. He steps away and sheathes the blade in one smooth motion. Then he grabs a blanket off the pile and tosses it at Eli.
"Now sit down and shut up. We're gonna wait her out."
Eli catches the blanket. His hands are still shaking.
Rachel's footsteps are getting louder.
Greywolf crouches by the door, listening. His face is calm. Like this is routine.
Eli sinks down against the wall. The blanket's rough, smells like mold. He wraps it around himself anyway. His ribs ache where the knife was.
He thinks about Maya. About the way Rachel said her name.
*Ghost.*
Like she knew her.
The footsteps stop.
Rachel's voice comes through the wall. Close. Too close.
"I'll find you, Greywolf. And when I do, I'm putting you both down."
Silence.
Greywolf doesn't answer. He just waits, perfectly still, until the footsteps start again and fade.
Then he looks at Eli.
"You really Maya Cross's brother?"
Eli nods. He doesn't trust his voice.
Greywolf huffs. It might be a laugh. "Figures. She owed me too."
He stands and kicks the chem light closer to Eli. The green glow makes his scars look deeper.
"Get some sleep. Tomorrow we're going deeper." He pauses at the door. "If you want to find your sister, that's where she is."
Eli's throat tightens. "You know where she is?"
Greywolf stops.
"I know where she went." His voice is flat. "Can't promise she's still breathing. Zone four deep doesn't let people out."
He steps into the corridor.
"But if you want to die looking," Greywolf adds over his shoulder, "I'll take you there."
A beat.
"For a price."
He disappears into the dark.
Eli sits there, alone. The chem light gutters. His ribs ache. He thinks about Rachel's gun. Greywolf's knife. The way his hand glowed.
He thinks about Maya.
Zone four deep.
He's going.
No matter what it costs.
In the corridor outside, something moves. A scrape. Metal on concrete.
Eli's breath catches.
Greywolf's voice drifts back, barely a whisper.
"Oh, and kid? That glow of yours? Keep it buried. Next time it slips out