Gunfire cracked through the night like lightning tearing open the sky. The warehouse windows shattered, raining glass over the concrete floor where Tristan had dragged Lilac only seconds earlier. The air reeked of gunpowder and rain; shadows flickered from muzzle flashes outside.
"Move," Tristan hissed, gripping her hand. He yanked her toward the narrow staircase spiraling down into the sub-level. The old metal groaned under their boots.
Lilac's pulse thundered louder than the gunshots. Her lips still tingled with the memory of his. Why now? she thought bitterly. Why did it have to mean something when we might die for it?
A door slammed open above them. Voices — calm, mechanical, Syndicate agents — spread out like wolves.
Tristan stopped halfway down the steps and shoved his gun into her hands. "If they see you, don't think. Shoot."
She stared at him, the steel cold in her palms. "What about you?"
He smiled, but it wasn't reassuring — it was wild, the kind that looked too close to breaking. "I'll draw them away. Meet me at the river tunnels."
Lilac grabbed his sleeve. "You'll get yourself killed."
He leaned close enough that she could smell the smoke on his skin. "You make it sound like I haven't tried before."
Then he was gone, darting into the darkness, footsteps swallowed by echoing chaos.
Lilac crouched behind the stairwell, trying to steady her breath. The gun felt heavier by the second. She peered around the rusted railing — three Syndicate soldiers sweeping the hall, their masks glinting under emergency lights.
"Target last seen on Level 3. Tristan Caine — confirmed," one said through the comm.
Confirmed. They knew exactly who they were after.
Lilac slid lower, heart hammering. Tristan's shadow flashed across the opposite wall — fast, precise. He moved like a ghost. Two shots, clean and muffled. Two bodies fell.
But the third agent caught movement and shouted. The hall erupted in gunfire. Sparks sprayed from the walls; the smell of burnt metal stung her eyes.
Lilac didn't think — she ran. The gunfire chased her down the narrow corridor until a strong arm yanked her sideways through a half-collapsed door.
Tristan. Bloody, furious, breathing hard.
"You can't follow orders for one minute, can you?" he growled, but his voice trembled with relief.
"I'm not leaving you," she snapped back. "Not after—"
The words stuck. After the kiss. After the way he'd looked at her like she was both salvation and damnation.
A bullet tore through the doorframe beside them, splintering the wood. Tristan cursed, grabbed her face for half a heartbeat — a touch that said everything he couldn't — and then shoved her toward the back exit.
They burst into the alley, the night alive with sirens and smoke. Neon lights bled through the mist, painting the puddles crimson. Lilac stumbled, caught herself, and realized Tristan was limping.
"You're hit."
"It's nothing," he lied, tightening his grip on her wrist. "Keep moving."
Behind them, Syndicate vehicles screeched to a stop.
They darted through the maze of alleys, splashing through water and debris until they reached the floodgate tunnel — the same one they'd used months ago to escape a different trap.
Tristan slammed the iron gate behind them, breathing raggedly. "We've got five minutes before they cut through."
Lilac pressed her hand over his side, feeling the warmth of blood. "Five minutes isn't enough."
"It's all we've ever had." He leaned his head back against the wall, eyes closing. For a moment, he looked utterly human — no bravado, no control, just exhaustion and something dangerously close to tenderness.
The tunnel lights flickered. Their breaths came in sync — sharp, shallow, desperate.
"Tristan," she whispered, "why did you—"
He opened his eyes, meeting hers. The answer was there, unspoken, trembling in the silence between gunfire bursts outside.
"Because," he said quietly, "I wanted something real before they take everything else."
Her heart stuttered.
The world roared around them — explosions, shouts, the metallic grind of the gate breaking — but for one suspended second, it all blurred.
Lilac reached up, brushing a streak of blood from his jaw. "Then don't let them take me."
He smiled again, softer this time. "Not a chance."
The gate burst open behind them. A wave of light and smoke poured in — Syndicate silhouettes filling the tunnel entrance.
Tristan raised his gun, stepped in front of her, and said with a calm that froze her blood:
"Come and get her."
The world exploded into fire .