Noah hadn't spoken much in days.
Every breath felt borrowed, every heartbeat too loud.
He moved through the facility like a shadow, calm on the outside, storming on the inside. The plan was nearly finished. Every second now was about precision—no mistakes, no missteps, no doubt.
But there was a problem.
The bond.
It had grown.
Twisted.
Wound tighter around his soul.
He couldn't sleep.
Couldn't eat properly.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Alek. Felt the tension in his arms, the weight of those chains, the shape of his breath in the dark.
And when he dreamed—
It was like he was Alek.
Seeing through his eyes. Feeling the walls close in.
He'd wake up choking.
Sweating.
Whispering his name.
"Alek…"
Mariana cornered him in the stairwell.
"Tomorrow's the night, isn't it?" she said without ceremony.
Noah didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
She leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
"You realize, if they find out I helped, I'm done."
"I know."
"If they catch you, you won't get a hearing. Not after what he is."
Noah closed his eyes.
"I still have to try."
She stared at him.
Then pulled something from her coat.
A pair of folded gloves.
Shock pads woven into the knuckles.
"Silent stunners," she said. "Enough to knock someone out for fifteen seconds."
He took them, hands trembling.
"Why are you helping me?" he asked quietly.
Mariana looked away.
"My brother was bonded to an alpha like Alek," she said. "Only difference is… no one ever tried to save him."
Then she was gone.
Alek couldn't stop pacing.
The chains limited him, but he paced anyway. Three steps forward, three steps back. His shoulders ached. His wrists were raw.
But he couldn't sit still.
Not tonight.
The note had said three nights.
Tonight was the third.
And even if Noah didn't come, even if this was all some elaborate punishment to break his mind—
He had to be ready.
So he moved.
And moved.
And moved.
Until, finally, he collapsed against the wall, chest heaving.
That's when the memory came.
Like a strike to the ribs.
He was fifteen.
Still in training.
Too aggressive. Too emotional. Too much.
The other alphas didn't trust him.
The instructors didn't know what to do with him.
He was a problem.
A danger.
So they locked him in isolation for a week.
No contact.
No light.
No one.
He screamed until his voice broke.
Fought the walls until his knuckles split open.
Then one night, a soft hand slipped through the feeding hatch.
A nurse.
Too kind. Too brave.
She gave him a book.
Said nothing.
Just left it.
He opened it to find a note.
"You are not the monster they think you are."
He never saw her again.
But he never forgot.
He still had the note.
Taped inside his locker the day he joined active duty.
That memory came back now, not because of the kindness…
…but because of the desperation.
The feeling of being forgotten. Left to rot.
He'd felt that again, here.
Until Noah walked through that door.
Until Noah kissed him like he was worth saving.
Somewhere in the dark, Alek whispered:
"Don't be late."
Back in the East Wing, Noah was scanning a final map.
One last detail: the outer motion sensor by the service tunnel.
If it triggered during escape, it would send a silent ping to the control room.
He needed it offline.
But that required access to Central Systems.
And that required another favor.
He opened a blank message.
Typed two words.
"Midnight. Help?"
Then deleted it.
Rewrote it.
"Last chance."
Then sent it.
To someone who hadn't replied in weeks.
His old mentor: Dr. Elias Grant.
A man who'd warned him early on: "Don't get too close to that alpha. He'll break you."
But Elias knew the facility better than anyone.
And if he was still watching…
Maybe he still cared.
The reply came at 3:04 AM.
"You have five minutes at 02:17. Use west access point. Good luck."
That was all.
Noah exhaled for the first time in hours.
Now it was real.
The window was open.
The route was clear.
All that was left—
Was them.
Alek was already awake when the door opened.
He didn't flinch.
Didn't speak.
The guard entered, did the usual scan, and left without comment.
But something had changed.
Alek could feel it in the air.
In the walls.
In his blood.
It wasn't hope.
Not exactly.
It was readiness.
Like something inside him had finally stopped fighting, and started waiting.
Every bone in his body was coiled like a spring.
Every breath tasted like something ending.
Or beginning.
Noah stood on the rooftop at sunset, the wind cold against his skin.
From here, he could see the whole complex.
North Wing's tower.
The South Corridor.
The fence line.
It all looked… small.
Like a maze meant to contain animals.
He wasn't afraid anymore.
Only focused.
He closed his eyes and saw Alek's face.
Bruised.
Defiant.
Alive.
And he whispered—
"One more night."
That evening, Mariana slipped him a final item: a tracker jammer. Pocket-sized.
"No signals in, no signals out," she said. "Only lasts fifteen minutes."
"That's enough."
She looked at him, long and hard.
"Are you in love with him?"
Noah didn't blink.
"Yes."
She nodded.
"Then go make it count."
Back in his room, Noah packed a small bag:
His old field boots
A pulse knife
Water tabs
One photo of his mother, folded and creased
The gloves
The map
He stared at it for a long time.
Then zipped it shut.
And whispered:
"I'm coming for you."
In the North Wing, Alek knelt in the dark.
Eyes closed.
Breathing even.
He'd cleaned his wounds.
Stretched.
Centered himself.
The cell was quiet.
But in his mind, it was already breaking.
The walls, the chains, the noise—All crumbling.
He imagined Noah's voice.
Imagined the door opening again.
Only this time, he wouldn't be left behind.
Only this time—
They'd run.
Noah stood at the exit tunnel entrance.
The metal hatch stared back at him.
In twelve hours, this would be the door.
The way out.
His hands shook.
Not with fear.
With clarity.
He pulled out the gloves.
Slipped them on.
Felt the hum of power in his palms.
And said it out loud, to the empty hall:
"Tomorrow night."
Then he turned, walked into the dark—
And didn't look back.