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“I think so,” she mumbles, swaying against me. “Why is everything so fuzzy?”

I support her weight as we exit the closet. The hallway is still clear, but that won’t last. I guide her toward the emergency exit at the end of the corridor, knowing it will trigger an alarm but calculating that the resulting confusion will work in my favor.

“Where’sJenna?”Kiraasks, her voice is small and confused. “You said we were meetingJenna,” she says.

“She’s waiting for us,” I assure her, moving faster as her legs weaken. “Just a little further.”

We reach the emergency exit. Beyond it lies the service alley where my van is parked. So close.

I push the door open, and the alarm blares immediately.Kiraflinches at the noise, but I pull her into the alley. The cool air hits us, and she shivers against me.

“Something’s wrong...” she mumbles, trying weakly to pull away from me. “Where are we?”

“It’s okay,” I tell her, supporting more of her weight as her legs give out. “I’ve got you.”

A shout from the end of the alley makes me turn. Two security guards are running toward us, yellow vests visible even at this distance.

“Hey! Stop right there!”

No. Not when I’m this close. I liftKirainto my arms—she’s barely conscious now, her head lolling against my chest. The van is twenty feet away. I break into a run, her weight barely slowing me down after training specifically for this moment.

“What’re you...” Her words slur together as I reach the van. “Why...”

I shift her weight to one arm, using my free hand to unlock the van with the remote. The back doors swing open automatically—a custom modification worth every penny. The guards are closing in, maybe thirty seconds away.

“Shh.” I lay her on the padded floor, already reaching for the restraints I’ve mounted precisely where they need to be. “Don’t fight it.”

Her fingers weakly grasp at my sleeve. “Please...”

The click of each restraint is satisfying—ankles first, then wrists. I’ve measured everything to fit her. The padding will prevent bruising and keep her comfortable during the drive. I’ve thought of everything.

“Stop! Convention security!” The guards are almost at the van now.

I slam the back doors shut, rushing to the driver’s seat. The engine roars to life at the touch of a button. I’ve rehearsed this escape route dozens of times, knowing exactly which turns to take to avoid cameras and which streets have the least traffic at this hour.

The guards reach the back of the van just as I slam it into drive. One guard pounds on the rear door, but it’s too late. The vehicle lurches forward, tires squealing against the pavement as I accelerate down the alley.

In the rearview mirror, I see the guards shouting into their radios. It doesn’t matter. By the time anyone responds, we’ll be miles away on one of three possible escape routes I’ve mapped out. The van’s license plates are already changing—another custom modification that costs a small fortune but is worth every cent for this moment.

I check the monitor showing the cargo area.Kiralies secured on the padded floor, her breathing even. Despite the complications, despite the near-misses, she’s mine now.

“I don’t...” Her voice comes through the speaker, weak and confused, as she tries to lift her head. The drugs are working fully now, pulling her under. “What’s happening?”

I smile behind my mask. Everything I’ve planned for, everything I’ve worked toward—it’s finally happening.

“Close your eyes,Kira,” I say through the intercom. “When you wake up, you’ll be home. Where you belong.”

Her eyelids flutter, fighting to stay open. Even now, she’s trying to understand, to make sense of what’s happening. But the drugs are too strong, carefully measured for her exact weight.

“Sleep,” I order. Her breathing evens out, deep and steady.

I turn onto the highway, merging smoothly with traffic. I’m just another van on the road. Nobody would suspect what—who—I’m carrying. The GPS shows our route to the compound, with an estimated arrival time of forty-seven minutes. Everything’s proceeding according to plan now.

I glance back at Kira one last time. Everything has to be perfect.

“Game over,” I murmur. “Level one complete.”

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