Lila woke up choking on her own breath.

Darkness pressed around her from every angle, thick and wet and metallic. Her head pounded so violently it felt detached from the rest of her body, every pulse behind her eyes arriving half a second too late. For a moment, she couldn’t tell where she was. Couldn’t tell if she was lying down or standing or dead already.

Then cold metal dug into her forehead.

Bars.

The realization came slow and ugly.

A cell.

A dim yellow light leaked through somewhere overhead, too weak to fully reach her. It caught against puddles on the floor and old stains that looked darker than rust. The place smelled like mold, sweat, and something medicinal trying its hardest to hide the rot underneath.

Lila swallowed hard.

Pain exploded through the side of her skull.

That fucking crowbar. 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

The memory snapped into place all at once.

Harry.

The alley.

Adrian—

Her eyes widened instantly.

The haze vanished from her expression so fast it was almost frightening.

She lunged forward without thinking.

Her forehead smashed directly against the bars with a brutal clang.

Outside the cell, Cherie flinched violently in her chair.

Lila staggered backward afterward, breathing hard, blood already running down the side of her face again. But she barely seemed to notice it. Her eyes darted wildly around the room, animalistic and unfocused, searching for someone that wasn’t there.

Adrian.

The name sat inside her skull louder than the pain did.

Saul slowly tightened his hand around Cherie’s.

"Easy," he muttered quietly.

Cherie nodded once, though her breathing still looked uneven. Across from them, an officer sat at a steel table with paperwork spread out beneath a flickering lamp.

"Tell me again," the officer said, pen tapping once against paper, "what exactly you know about our suspect."

Cherie opened her mouth.

Then stopped.

Saul squeezed her hand again.

"I..." Her voice cracked slightly. "I was with him from the beginning."

The officer wrote something down.

Cherie stared at the table.

"At first we weren’t even friends," she continued quietly. "Honestly, we hated each other."

A pause.

"But through everything that happened after..." Her throat tightened. "Adrian’s proven himself to be reliable. Protective. He—"

Saul’s grip suddenly tightened harder.

Cherie looked at him.

The officer frowned in confusion.

"I’m sorry," he said carefully. "I thought you were testifying against him."

"She is," Saul answered flatly.

Cherie’s face tightened immediately.

"Saul—"

"Can we get a minute?" he interrupted, looking at the officer. "Please."

The officer hesitated.

His eyes moved between both of them before finally settling on Saul’s bruised face and stitched hand.

"...Five minutes," he said finally.

Then he stood and walked out.

The metal door slammed shut behind him.

Silence settled over the room almost immediately.

Not peaceful silence.

The kind that waits.

Cherie kept staring at her shoes.

Saul looked at her for a long moment before speaking.

"Cherie."

No answer.

"Cherie, look at me."

Slowly, she did.

"What the fuck was that?"

Her shoulders lowered slightly, exhausted already.

"I just..." She swallowed. "I don’t think this is that simple."

Saul let out a humorless laugh.

"Simple?" he repeated. "You understand that man killed my father, right?"

Cherie looked away.

"My brother can barely sleep anymore without waking up screaming," Saul continued, anger beginning to creep into his voice. "Harry’s been chasing that guy across states like a fucking ghost because of what happened. People died, Cherie."

"And how do you know why?" she snapped suddenly.

That stopped him.

Cherie leaned forward now, emotion finally breaking through.

"You weren’t there," she said sharply. "None of you were. Every story I’ve heard about Adrian leaves something out. Every single one."

Saul stared at her.

"You’re defending him."

"I’m defending the truth."

"The truth?" Saul echoed. "What truth? That everyone just magically decided to hate him for no reason?"

Cherie shook her head hard.

"No. I’m saying Adrian doesn’t just kill people because he feels like it."

Saul’s jaw tightened.

"You sound crazy."

"Because I actually knew him?" Cherie fired back. "Because I traveled with him? Ate with him? Survived with him? He’s not some fucking cartoon monster people keep making him out to be."

Saul looked at her for a second longer.

Then slowly dragged a hand down his face.

Before he could answer, something scraped loudly behind them.

Both turned toward the cell.

Lila sat crouched in the darkness now.

Still smiling.

Blood streaked from her forehead down her nose and chin, but she didn’t seem aware of it. Her breathing came in uneven little huffs through parted lips. Every few seconds, something twitchy moved behind her eyes like her brain was still trying to restart itself correctly after the blow to the head.

Then she made a sound.

Not words.

Something lower.

Wet.

Wrong.

Cherie’s stomach tightened immediately.

Saul watched silently.

Lila tilted her head slowly.

Her tongue pushed slightly past her teeth as she stared at them through the bars.

Then she lifted a finger across her own throat.

A slicing motion.

Toward both of them.

Cherie froze.

Saul sighed through his nose and looked back at her.

"I mean..." He shrugged weakly. "Look at the shit he surrounds himself with."

The words landed heavier than he intended.

Cherie’s face faltered slightly.

Saul saw it.

For a second, guilt crossed his face.

Then he stood.

"Just think about it," he muttered quietly before walking away.

Cherie stayed there alone.

Or at least she felt alone.

The pressure inside her chest had gotten unbearable hours ago. Every direction she turned felt wrong. Adrian. Saul. Harry. Jackson coughing blood onto the floor while people screamed over him.

Every memory felt like it contradicted the next one.

She rubbed hard at her eyes.

The hallway door creaked open somewhere nearby.

Bootsteps followed.

Measured.

Calm.

Cherie barely looked up at first.

Then she did a double take.

The woman walking past looked familiar in the worst possible way.

Not because Cherie knew her personally.

Because she’d seen her before.

Somewhere.

Jennifer walked down the hall with two soldiers trailing behind her. Her posture stayed relaxed, hands folded behind her back, blonde hair tied neatly despite the chaos surrounding the sector.

As she passed, her eyes flicked briefly toward Cherie.

Then she smiled.

It should’ve looked comforting.

Professional.

But something about it made Cherie’s stomach turn immediately.

Jennifer kept walking.

Cherie’s eyes narrowed slowly.

That face.

Why did she know that face?

A memory tugged weakly somewhere in the back of her mind.

Not recent.

Older.

Pictures.

Documents.

People standing in backgrounds they weren’t supposed to matter in.

Then it clicked.

Vivian.

Not the woman herself.

Photos.

Every time Cherie remembered Vivian looking through old files or talking about old research groups, there had always been people behind her. Scientists. Staff.

Observers.

And Jennifer had been there.

Not centered.

Not important enough to immediately notice.

Just...present.

Always present.

Cherie suddenly felt nauseous.

—

Aubrey stopped walking for a moment as they walked down a corridor.

"...Hold on."

Terri nearly bumped into her from behind.

"What now?"

Aubrey stepped closer to the wall.

Most of the concrete had been stained black with age and moisture, but something had been spray painted across it in faded dark red.

A symbol.

Half scratched out.

Still recognizable.

Aubrey rubbed her sleeve across it once.

Her expression changed immediately.

"Wait a fucking second..."

Terri’s face slowly lost color too.

Hale folded his arms tightly.

Isabella just looked confused.

"What?" she asked quietly.

"The Crucible," Terri muttered.

Silence followed.

Aubrey stared at the symbol a little longer.

The thing looked old.

Not random graffiti.

Not some teenager screwing around.

The paint had seeped into cracks in the concrete itself.

"What the hell is this shit doing here?" Aubrey asked under her breath.

Her voice sounded frustrated, like finding out something still hadn’t been fixed after being so sure...

Terri forced out a weak little laugh.

"Maybe some kids saw it somewhere before the outbreak," she offered quickly. "People copy weird stuff all the time."

Nobody answered.

Even she didn’t sound convinced.

Aubrey looked back at her slowly.

"This doesn’t look like kids."

It suddenly felt colder.

People moved around nearby. Soldiers. Civilians. Voices. Boots against concrete.

But the symbol stayed there.

Watching.

Aubrey stepped closer to Terri.

"Something’s wrong with this place."

Terri rubbed nervously at her arm.

"Aubrey—"

"No." Aubrey pointed directly at the symbol. "First those fucking corrupt soldiers tormenting us. Now this."

Hale’s eyes shifted slightly at the mention of that incident, but he stayed quiet.

Isabella stiffened.

Aubrey continued staring at the wall.

"I know you want this place to work," she said more quietly now. "I get it. Everybody’s tired. Everybody wants walls and warm food and some fake little version of normal again."

Terri’s jaw tightened.

"But what’s the point," Aubrey continued, "if every place we run to keeps feeling exactly the fucking same?"

Nobody answered her.

The Crucible symbol sat there between them in silence.

Like it had been waiting.