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"And the research facility?" I ask.

"Direct assault," Elle decides. "We've been gathering forces for months. This gives us the opportunity and justification to use them."

The plan comes together with rapid efficiency—infiltration routes identified, timing coordinated, equipment allocated. Throughout the preparations, I feel my strength returning as the suppression compound continues to fade from my system. My modifications respond more readily now, senses sharpening, body regaining its enhanced capabilities.

As we gear up for the mission, I find myself in a smaller chamber, checking the equipment Elle's people have provided—lightweight body armor, communication devices, weapons designed for non-lethal neutralization, odds and ends.

Trent enters quietly, his own preparations complete. He watches me adjust the armor straps for a moment before speaking.

"You sure you're ready for this?" he asks, sounding worried. "The compound might still affect your capabilities."

"I'm fine," I insist with a quick smile, testing my range of motion. "Getting stronger by the hour."

He steps closer, hands moving to correct the positioning of a chest plate I've misaligned. His fingers brush against my collarbone, the contact sending warmth through me despite the clinical nature of the adjustment.

"There," he says, voice lower now. "Better protection."

I look up to find his face inches from mine, his eyes darkened with something beyond mission focus. The air betweenus seems to charge with electricity, memories of our interrupted forest kiss hanging heavy in the silence.

"Trent," I begin, not entirely sure what I'm going to say.

"I thought I'd lost you," he admits suddenly, the words coming out in a rush. "In the facility, when they took you for testing and wouldn't tell me anything—" He stops, jaw tightening with the effort to maintain control.

“But you didn’t.” My hand rises automatically to his face, tracing the fading bruise along his cheekbone. "I'm right here."

His fingers wrap around my wrist, holding my palm against his face. "This mission...the risks are significant."

"When are they not?" I attempt another smile.

"Zara," he says seriously, "if something happens?—"

"Don't," I interrupt. "No fatalistic pre-mission confessions. That's just asking for trouble."

He smiles faintly. "Sentinel superstition?"

"Common sense."

His hand slides from my wrist to my face, thumb brushing across my lower lip in a touch so light it might be imagined. My breath catches, body leaning toward his automatically.

"Perimeter check complete," Vex announces, appearing in the doorway.

We jump apart with guilty quickness. Vex's amber eyes take in the scene with unreadable expression.

He always has the worst timing.

"Transport's ready," he continues after a beat. "We leave in ten minutes."

"On our way," I reply, trying to sound normal despite the heat still flaring where Trent touched me.

Vex lingers a moment longer, something complicated passing through his eyes. "Stay focused out there," he says finally. "Both of you."

After he leaves, the atmosphere shifts from charged toawkward. Trent steps back, resuming his professional demeanor with visible effort.

"He's right," he says, checking his weapons. "Focus is critical for this operation."

I nod, pushing personal complications aside. "Mission priority: extract the Haven child. Everything else is secondary."

We join the others at the transport bay, a natural cavern modified to house various vehicles. Our assigned craft is smaller than the one from our escape, designed for speed rather than power. Vex is already in the driver's position, running pre-departure checks.