Long-press a paragraph to send danmaku
Cole didn't lower the gun.
Evan stood three steps up, hands raised, that same friendly-concerned look plastered on his face like he was trying to talk down a jumpy dog. Layla pressed her back against the concrete wall behind Cole, the photo folded tight in her fist. Her heart hammered so hard she could feel it in her teeth.
"I'm serious," Evan said. "Cole, man, listen to me. You think I'd hurt her? After three years?"
"You humiliated her in front of fifty people two days ago," Cole said. His voice stayed flat. "So yeah. I think you would."
Evan's jaw worked. "That was different. I didn't know—"
"Didn't know what?" Layla cut in. Her voice came out sharper than she meant. "That I'm some lab experiment? That I'm worth something now?"
Evan's eyes flicked to her, then back to Cole. "It's not like that."
"Then what's it like?" Cole asked. He shifted half a step to the left, angling his body so Layla stayed blocked from Evan's line of sight. "Because from where I'm standing, you show up the second she finds proof, you know about a photo you shouldn't know about, and you're asking her to hand over evidence that could get her killed."
"Evidence that could get all of us killed," Evan corrected. He lowered his hands slowly, like he was proving he wasn't a threat. "You really think HQ sent you to protect her? Cole, they want her gone. The whole Null program was supposed to be erased eighteen years ago. If she walks into HQ with that photo, they'll bury her before she gets past the front desk."
Layla's throat went dry. She looked at Cole's profile. He didn't react, didn't even blink, but his finger stayed on the trigger guard.
"Who told you that?" Cole asked.
"Does it matter?"
"Yeah. It does."
Evan exhaled through his nose. "Someone on the inside. Someone who knows what Lyndon Crest really was."
"Name."
"I can't."
Cole thumbed the safety off. The click echoed in the stairwell.
"Okay, okay." Evan held up one hand again. "Vera Stone. She reached out to me yesterday. Said she'd been tracking the Null files for months, said HQ's been cleaning up loose ends, and Layla's the last one."
Layla's stomach dropped. Vera. Cole's ex. The woman who'd looked at Layla like she was a smudge on expensive glass.
"Vera," Cole repeated. His tone didn't change, but something tightened in his shoulders. "And you believed her."
"She had access codes. Clearance I've never seen. She showed me the kill order, Cole. It's already active. Layla's name is on it."
Layla's knees felt weak. She pressed harder against the wall. "What kill order?"
Evan looked at her directly for the first time. His face softened, and she hated how real it looked. "The Council issued it three days ago. The same day you found out about me and Hana. They've been waiting for you to move, to run, to do anything that makes you visible. That's why Cole got assigned to you. He's the best tracker in the division."
Cole's hand didn't waver. "If that's true, why didn't Vera go to me?"
"Because you'd follow orders," Evan said simply. "She knows you, Cole. You'd bring Layla in even if it meant they'd kill her. That's how you work."
The words hung there. Layla's breath caught. She stared at the back of Cole's head, at the tension in his neck, and she waited for him to deny it.
He didn't.
"So what's Vera's play?" Cole asked instead.
Evan shifted his weight. "She wants the photo. And Layla. She's got a safehouse outside the city, off-grid, no sensor coverage. She can hide her until we figure out who's running the kill order and shut it down."
"And you trust her."
"I trust that she hates the Council more than she hates me," Evan said. "Her family got burned by the Null program too. Her older brother was one of the techs at Lyndon Crest. He disappeared the same night the lab went down."
Layla's fingers cramped around the photo. She forced herself to breathe. None of this made sense. Vera, Evan, Cole—they all wanted something from her, and she had no idea who was lying.
"Where's this safehouse?" Cole asked.
"I'll take you. Both of you."
"Not a chance."
Evan's expression hardened. "Then what's your plan? Walk her into HQ and hope they don't shoot her in the elevator?"
"I'll handle HQ."
"With what? A badge and a gun?" Evan laughed, bitter and low. "Cole, you're good, but you're not bulletproof. And the second you go off-script, they'll pull your access and label you a deserter. You'll be just as dead as she is."
Cole was silent. Layla's pulse pounded in her ears. She wanted to scream, to run, to do anything but stand here while two men decided whether she lived or died. But her legs wouldn't move.
"Let me see the kill order," Cole said finally.
Evan hesitated. "I don't have it on me."
"Then we're done here."
"Cole—"
"Get out, Evan."
Evan's hands curled into fists. For a second Layla thought he might rush them, but then he took a step back, and another, until he was at the top of the stairs. He looked down at her one last time.
"Layla," he said quietly. "If you stay with him, you're dead."
Then he turned and disappeared through the stairwell door. The slam echoed all the way down.
Cole didn't move for another ten seconds. Then he lowered the gun and clicked the safety back on. He didn't holster it.
"Is he right?" Layla's voice cracked. "Are you supposed to bring me in so they can kill me?"
Cole turned to face her. His expression was unreadable, all hard lines and cold focus. "I got assigned to investigate a sensor anomaly. That's it. No kill order crossed my desk."
"But if it had?"
His jaw tightened. He didn't answer.
Layla shoved past him and headed for the service tunnel. She didn't care where it led anymore. She just needed to move.
"Layla."
She kept walking.
"Layla, stop."
She spun around. "Why? So you can decide if I'm worth saving? So you can weigh your career against my life and pick whichever one keeps you ranked?"
Cole's eyes narrowed. "That's not—"
"Then what is it?" She stepped closer, her voice rising. "Because Evan's right about one thing. You follow orders. That's what you do. So if HQ tells you to put me down, are you going to do it?"
He stared at her. The fluorescent light overhead flickered. Somewhere above them, a door slammed.
"I don't know," he said.
The honesty of it hit harder than a lie would have.
Layla's hands shook. She looked down at the photo still clenched in her palm, at the faint outline of her mother's handwriting on the back. Keep her safe. They're coming. Her mother had known. She'd known, and she'd handed Layla over anyway.
She smoothed the photo out and stepped forward. Cole's uniform jacket hung open, torn at the shoulder from where he'd caught it on a fence during their last extraction. She slipped the photo into the inner pocket and pressed it flat.
"If you're going to turn me in," she said quietly, "at least don't lie about it. I'm done with people lying to me."
Cole caught her wrist before she could pull away. His grip was firm but not rough. "I'm not turning you in."
"You just said you don't know."
"I said I don't know what I'd do if HQ ordered it. They haven't. So right now, I'm getting you out."
She met his eyes. They were dark, sharp, and for the first time since she'd met him, she thought she saw something crack underneath.
"Why?" she whispered.
His thumb brushed over her pulse point, just once, and then he let go. "Because something about you doesn't add up. And I don't leave questions unanswered."
It wasn't a promise. It wasn't even close to reassuring. But it was all she had.
She pulled back and nodded toward the tunnel. "Then let's go."
They moved fast, Cole leading with the gun still drawn, Layla half a step behind. The tunnel smelled like rust and old water. Their footsteps echoed too loud. Halfway through, Cole's phone buzzed. He checked it without slowing down, then stopped so abruptly she nearly ran into him.
"What?"
He turned the screen toward her. It was a message, no sender ID, just a single image file loading line by line.
The photo. Her photo. The one she'd just tucked into his jacket.
But this version was different. Underneath her mother's handwriting, below the lab code stamp, a new line of text had appeared, typed in clean block letters:
**NULL 07 IS ALIVE. RETRIEVE HER NOW.**
Layla's breath stopped. She looked up at Cole. His face had gone pale.
"That's impossible," she whispered. "I'm the only one who had that photo."
"No," Cole said slowly. He pulled the photo from his jacket and held it up to the light. The new text wasn't there. The paper was clean.
But on his phone, the message was still loading. A second line appeared below the first:
**TRACKER ALPHA ACTIVATED. 96 HOURS TO COMPLY.**
Cole's hand tightened around the phone. He looked at Layla, and for the first time, she saw fear in his eyes.
"Run," he said.