Rain slicked streets reflected the city in fragments, each puddle a distorted mirror of neon and shadow. The hum of distant machinery throbbed faintly beneath the surface, a heartbeat I didn't own. Alleyways yawned empty, dripping water onto slick bricks, carrying the smell of iron and smoke. Too quiet.
Soft drip… faint wind… distant hum…
A figure emerged from the shadows, light catching the edge of a coat, the angle of a face. For a moment, I thought it was Elliot. But the city had a way of playing tricks on you when you least expected it. And yet… something about him was different calm, almost untouchable, a ghost in a city that refused to sleep.
"You can still walk away," he said. Voice low, measured, as if each word weighed more than the rain falling around us.
I raised an eyebrow, sarcasm tipping my tone even as a tight knot pulled at my chest. "Walk away… sure, because running's so much fun." My boots splashed in a shallow puddle as I stepped closer, coat dripping, eyes narrowing.
Walking away meant leaving the Architect to win. Leaving the city to obey. Leaving myself… broken. Not by him, not by the system, not by the chaos. But by the illusion of control I'd fought so hard to cling to.
"Walking away means leaving him to win," I said, voice low, steady, but there was an edge to it—frustration, recognition, resolve.
Elliot didn't argue. He only watched. His eyes familiar, disappointed, sharp studied me like a map he'd memorized too many times. The kind of gaze that sees every flaw, every crack, every misstep, and still leaves room for the choice.
Soft splash… distant drip… whisper of wind…
And then he was gone. Just like that. Dissolved into the night. No farewell. No hesitation. Just the quiet certainty that he had made his move and I had mine to make. My hand twitched briefly, a reminder that even the strongest walls could tremble. But I didn't chase. Not this time. Not him.
I stood alone, coat damp, hood clinging, eyes scanning the alley as if the shadows themselves might answer. The city's silence pressed against me, heavy and expectant. The storm wasn't coming. It had already arrived, bleeding through the streets, coursing through the veins I thought I had mapped.
I exhaled slowly, sarcasm sliding back into place, sharp as broken glass. "Last warning received. Guess I'll have to enjoy the storm my own way."
Every thread I'd pulled, every manipulation I'd orchestrated, every victory I'd thought I'd claimed it had all led here. And now, with Elliot gone, with the city holding its breath, and the Architect watching from places I could barely imagine, I was finally alone to face the next move.
Alone. And exactly where I needed to be.