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The implications hit me immediately. I blink. "They want to reverse my modifications?"

"Or control them," Trent says quietly. "If they can suppress the adaptive capability at will, they could weaponize it."

Jesus.

A chill runs through me. "Turn me into exactly what Unity always feared—a weapon they can't control."

"Unless they succeed in developing this suppression method," Vex points out. "Then you'd be a weapon they could control."

"Either way, something to avoid," I say, trying for lightness and failing. "Good to know what we're up against."

As Reid heads off to continue preparations, I'm left with Trent and Vex again—both watching me with concern they express in entirely different ways. Vex's is open, straightforward in its intensity. Trent's is more controlled, buried beneath layers of Sentinel training but no less real.

"I need some air," I mutter, heading for the exit.

To my surprise, neither follows. Maybe they realize I need space to process all this, or maybe they're just saving their energy for tomorrow's mission. Either way, I'm grateful for the solitude as I make my way to the settlement's eastern edge.

The butterfly clearing is empty when I arrive, no blue- winged creatures dancing among the flowers today. I sit on the same sun-warmed rock where Vex taught me to balance my senses, closing my eyes and extending my awareness outward.

The world expands around me—birds calling in the distance, small creatures moving through underbrush, the subtle shift of air currents through leaves. I focus on these natural rhythms, letting them steady me as I consider what lies ahead.

Unity is hunting me specifically. They want to control the very thing that makes me unique—my ability to adapt, to change, to evolve. The cruel irony isn't lost on me. I spent years as a Sentinel, enforcing Unity's genetic purity laws, never knowing I was exactly what they feared most.

And now I'm running again, using my modifications to protect others like me. Maybe that's what my mother intended all along—not just a bridge between worlds, but a defender of those caught between them.

I don't know how long I sit there before I sense someone approaching. The familiar footfalls and scent identify Trent before he comes into view.

"Thought I might find you here," he says, stopping at a respectful distance.

"Checking up on me?"

"Making sure you're alright," he corrects gently. "This is a lot.”

I open my eyes, studying him. Despite everything, there's still comfort in his familiar presence—the way he stands, the careful neutrality of his expression that can't quite hide his concern.

"I'm fine," I say automatically. Then, more honestly: "Actually, that's a lie. I'm terrified. Unity is hunting me, preparing some kind of suppression weapon, and now I'm about to lead two men who can barely tolerate each other on a dangerous mission. "

Trent's lips quirk upward slightly. "When you put it that way, it does sound challenging."

"You think?" I pat the rock beside me, an invitation he accepts after a moment's hesitation. "Why did you volunteer for this? You could have stayed here, helped with the settlement's defenses."

He considers the question carefully. "I know Unity better than anyone here. Their tactics, their protocols, their weaknesses. It makes strategic sense."

"That's not the whole truth, though, is it?"

He meets my gaze directly. "No. It's not."

The admission hangs between us, neither of us ready to explore its full implications.

"What about Vex?" I ask instead. "I was surprised when he volunteered."

"Were you?" Trent's voice carries a hint of something I can't quite identify. "He has his reasons, I'm sure."

"You don't trust him."

"I don't trust his motivations regarding you," Trent clarifies. "But I respect his capabilities and his knowledge of the wasteland. Both will be essential for this mission."

I study Trent's profile, noting the tension in his jaw, the careful control in his posture. "You two are going to have to work together, you know. Without the constant alpha male posturing."

A small smile touches his lips. "Is that what we've been doing?"

"You know exactly what you've been doing," I say, bumping his shoulder lightly with mine—a gesture from our Sentinel days, automatic before I can think better of it.

The casual contact sends a jolt through me that has nothing to do with modifications and everything to do with years of partnership and the complicated tangle of feelings I've never fully addressed. Trent goes very still, his heartbeat quickening just enough for my heightened senses to detect .

"Zara," he says quietly, turning toward me.

The space between us suddenly feels charged, electric with possibility and shared history and everything left unsaid. His eyes drop briefly to my lips before meeting my gaze again, a question in them I'm not sure I'm ready to answer.

Before either of us can move, the settlement's alarm splits the air—three short bursts, the signal for immediate assembly. We spring apart, the moment shattered.

"That's the emergency signal," Trent says, already on his feet.

I follow him as we race back toward the main compound, my heart pounding with more than just physical exertion. When we arrive, the central yard is filled with residents gathering anxiously. Vex stands on the steps of the main building, expression grim.

"Change of plans," he announces as we approach. "Scouts have reported Unity forces moving faster than anticipated. They'll reach our perimeter by nightfall tomorrow."

"What?" The timeline Reid estimated should have given us three days minimum. "How is that possible?"

"They're using enhanced transport vehicles we haven't seen before," Vex explains. "Designed specifically for wasteland terrain."

Nora pushes through the crowd, face tight with worry. "We need to accelerate everything. The mission team needs to leave immediately, not tomorrow."

"We're not prepared," I protest. "The genetic markers, the communication codes?—"

"Reid is finalizing them now," Nora cuts me off. "You'll have what you need within the hour."

I look from her to Trent to Vex, the gravity of the situation settling over me like a physical weight. No more time to prepare. No more time to process. No more time for almost-moments or unresolved feelings .

Just run, hide…

Survive.

"One hour," Trent confirms, slipping effortlessly into mission mode. "We'll meet at the eastern gate."

As we separate to gather our sparse supplies, I'm struck by the bitter familiarity of it all. Just days ago, I thought I might have found a place to belong, a community that understood what I was becoming. Now I'm running again, Unity's shadow stretching across my newfound freedom.

But this time is different. This time, I'm not just running from something—I'm running toward something. Toward warning others like me, toward protecting this settlement that took me in, toward embracing what I truly am.

Whatever that turns out to be.