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The technician rises, moving to a different workstation. As soon as her back is turned, Trent's hand opens, revealing what the guard gave him—a small metallic disc, barely larger than a thumbnail.

An EMP disruptor. Standard Unity counter-surveillance technology, designed to create temporary electronic dead zones.

Hope surges through my drug-muddled brain. This isn't random. It's planned. The guards weren't Unity at all—they were disguised sympathizers.

Trent's eyes ask a silent question. I nod my understanding.

The technician returns, checking Trent's vitals before making notes on her tablet. "Subject shows residual enhancement patterns consistent with Sentinel augmentation program," she mutters to herself.

"When's the last time you actually touched grass?" I ask her suddenly.

She looks up, startled. "What?"

"Real grass. Not Unity's synthetic growth medium. When's the last time you felt it under your feet?"

Her expression shifts from surprise to practiced neutrality. "Please remain silent during the examination process."

"That's what I thought," I continue, deliberately provocative. "You spend your life in labs like this, never experiencing the world outside. Just following orders, running tests on people you've been told aren't quite human."

"Ms. Thorne?—"

"Do you even know what they're planning to do with your research? How many people will die so Unity can maintain its perfect control?"

Her jaw tightens. "Security protocols exist for everyone's protection?—"

"Protection?" I laugh harshly. "Is that what they call it now?"

"I'm activating the sedation protocol," she announces, reaching for a control panel.

Perfect. As she moves away from her main monitoring station, Trent palms the EMP disc, thumb finding the activation switch.

"Now," he says.

The lights flicker as the disc emits its targeted pulse. Monitors go dark. The ventilation system drops into emergency mode, fans engaging at maximum power—creating exactly the audio dead zone I'd noticed earlier.

The technician freezes in confusion. Before she can reach an alarm, the lab doors slide open. Two figures enter—the same "guards" who delivered Trent. They move with swift efficiency, subduing the technician with a targeted neural suppressant.

"Extraction team," one explains, hurrying to release Trent's restraints. "We have seven minutes before emergency protocols engage."

The other reaches my table, quickly disconnecting the IV tubes. "Suppression compound will take time to clear," he warns. "Your modifications won't fully respond for at least an hour."

As the restraints release, I sit up despite the wave of dizziness. "Vex? Where is he?"

"Containment level three," the first sympathizer says, helping Trent stand. "Another team is moving to extract him now."

"How did you find us?" Trent asks, testing his balance.

"We've had people inside this facility for months," the sympathizer explains, handing us each what appear to be security keycards. "The evolved faction thought they were making a private deal with Unity. They didn't realize we've been monitoring their communications."

"Where are we exactly?" I ask, sliding off the examination table with shaky legs.

"Unity Research Outpost 17," the second sympathizer says. "Officially decommissioned after the climate shifts. Unofficially, their primary genetic research facility."

Trent's hand steadies me as I struggle to stay upright. The contact sends warmth through me despite the circumstances, my body remembering our interrupted moment in the forest.

"Can you walk?" he asks, voice low with concern.

"Have to," I manage. "Lead the way."

The sympathizers guide us through the lab to a service corridor beyond. The EMP has disabled local security, but the facility's main systems will reactivate soon. We move as quickly as my drug-weakened condition allows, Trent's hand never leaving my arm.

"The facility has three extraction points," our guide explains as we navigate the dimly lit passages. "Teams are converging on containment level three for your companion. We'll rendezvous at extraction point two."

As we round a corner, alarms suddenly blare through the complex. Red emergency lights activate, bathing the corridor in crimson.

"They've discovered the breach," the second sympathizer says grimly. "Security protocols engaging."

"How much farther?" Trent asks, shifting to support more of my weight as my steps falter.

"Two levels down, east quadrant."

We reach a maintenance shaft with a ladder descending into darkness. As I peer over the edge, another wave of dizziness hits. The suppression compound is still heavy in my system, making coordination difficult .

"I'll go first," Trent says, reading my condition. "You follow, I'll catch you if necessary."

He descends quickly despite his injuries, moving with Sentinel efficiency. I follow more slowly, each rung requiring frustrating concentration as my body refuses to cooperate properly.

Halfway down, the facility lights flicker—main power resuming. The security systems will be back online within minutes.

"Hurry," the sympathizers urge from above.

I try to move faster, but my hand slips. For a terrifying moment, I'm falling—then strong arms catch me as Trent breaks my descent.

"I've got you," he says, his body solid against mine.

Our faces are suddenly close, his breath warm on my cheek. Even amid danger, my body responds to his proximity—heart racing, skin heating where he touches me. The memory of our kiss flashes vividly despite the suppression drugs.

No time for distractions. We continue through the lower levels, following our guides through increasingly industrial sections of the facility. The alarms continue wailing, accompanied now by announcements of security team deployments.

"Almost there," the lead sympathizer promises as we approach a heavy service door. "Extraction point is just beyond."

The door opens to reveal what appears to be a vehicle bay—small transport crafts designed for terrain navigation. Several people are already there, working quickly to prepare the vehicles.

And among them, looking bruised but very much alive, is Vex.

He spots us immediately, amber eyes fixing on me with relief so palpable it's almost physical. He crosses the bay in seconds, reaching us just as my weakened legs finally give out.

Both men catch me, their hands overlapping as they support my weight between them. For once, there's no tension in their shared purpose—just mutual concern overriding everything else.

"What did they do to her?" Vex demands, noting my condition.

"Suppression compound," Trent explains. "Heavy dose. They were experimenting with controlling her modifications."

Vex's expression darkens with fury. "Can you neutralize it?"

"Not here," the sympathizer answers. "We need to reach the safehouse first."

Security alerts intensify, warning of approaching teams.

"Load up," the extraction leader orders. "We've got two minutes maximum."

They half-carry me to the nearest transport—a rugged vehicle with reinforced exterior and what appear to be weapon mounts. As they settle me in the back section, my fuzzy brain registers the obvious question.

"How are we getting past the facility perimeter?"

The sympathizer driver grins, activating the vehicle's systems. "The fun way."

The bay doors explode outward, blown by charges placed earlier. Through the smoke and debris, our small convoy accelerates into the night, leaving Unity Research Outpost 17 in chaos behind us.

Trent and Vex position themselves protectively on either side of me as the vehicle bounces over rough terrain. Unity pursuit crafts would be launching within minutes.

"Where are we going?" I ask, fighting to stay conscious as exhaustion pulls at me.

"Somewhere safe," Vex answers. "A place not even Lin knows about. "

"The Old Refuge," Trent adds, exchanging a look with Vex that suggests unexpected cooperation. "Last sympathizer stronghold before the northern territories."

My hand finds Trent's, squeezing weakly. "You're okay? They said you were being interrogated..."

His fingers twine with mine, thumb brushing over my knuckles. "Nothing I couldn't handle."

On my other side, Vex's shoulder presses against mine, his familiar heat a comfort as the suppression compound leaves me chilled. "Rest, Flutterby," he says softly. "We've got hours of travel ahead."

Between these two very different men, surrounded by their strength and warmth, I finally surrender to the exhaustion. My last conscious thought is that despite everything—capture, experimentation, betrayal—somehow we're still together.

All three of us.

And whatever Unity has planned, whatever mysterious agenda Lin and his evolved faction are pursuing, whatever destiny my mother designed me for—none of it matters as much as this simple fact: we're free, we're alive, and we're together.

For now, that's enough.