Keifer POVClinical Containment → Transit Corridor
She stood too fast.
I caught her elbow before gravity could argue, adjusting without thinking. Muscle memory. Instinct. The bond humming steady now instead of pulling like a hook in my ribs.
Alive does that.
"Easy," I said quietly.
She rolled her shoulder once, testing range, then nodded. "I'm good. They didn't break anything important."
I didn't ask how she knew. She always knew.
Behind us, the room was already trying to reset—status lights crawling back toward green, systems angry about being interrupted. Voices echoed from the corridor, clipped and urgent.
We were out of borrowed time.
I scanned the doorframe, then reached up and yanked a conduit free. Sparks flared, alarms stuttered, and the lights flickered again.
"Directional?" I asked.
She didn't need to think. "Left. Then down. Avoid the atrium."
Of course.
I took her hand—not dramatic, not protective. Just efficient. You don't lose people if you keep contact.
We moved.
Jay POVTransit Corridor — Emergency Lighting
Walking felt surreal.
Not weak—just unreal, like my body hadn't gotten the memo that containment was over. My feet remembered motion faster than my head did. Keifer's grip was solid, grounding, a constant point in the chaos.
The corridor was narrow, lined with sealed labs and storage bays. Emergency lights washed everything in red, flattening depth, making distance lie.
That was deliberate.
I felt the system trying to reassert control, like fingers closing around the building's spine.
"They're rerouting security," I said under my breath. "Internal drones first. External lockdown next."
Keifer snorted softly. "They always think inside the box."
He ducked us through a service alcove just as a drone hummed past the intersection, optics sweeping uselessly.
I exhaled slow.
"You planned this," I said.
"Planned is generous," he replied. "I prepared for resistance."
That was his version of optimism.
Keifer POV Service Lift Shaft
We reached the lift shaft and I didn't even bother calling it.
I pried the doors open with a grunt and peered down. Emergency ladder intact. Long drop. No moving car.
Good.
"After you," I said.
She didn't argue. She swung onto the ladder like she'd never been restrained a day in her life.
I followed, sealing the doors behind us as best I could. The shaft swallowed sound, muting the chaos above. My arms burned as we descended fast, boots ringing hollow against the rungs.
Halfway down, the building shuddered.
She stiffened.
"They've noticed you," she said.
"Yeah," I replied. "I noticed them noticing."
Another tremor—heavier this time. Not structural failure. Controlled response.
Containment escalation.
We dropped the last stretch and hit the sublevel hard, rolling clean.
I was already moving when the lights came back on.
Jay POV Sublevel Access — Systems Hub Perimeter
The air down here was colder, drier. Data-center cold.
Rows of sealed cabinets stretched into shadow, cables like veins overhead. This was where the building thought.
And it was angry.
I felt the pressure immediately—not physical, but cognitive. Predictive systems spinning up, modeling us, trying to collapse probability.
Keifer slowed, just a fraction.
"You feel that?" he asked.
"Yes," I said. "It's narrowing options."
"Good thing I hate being predictable."
He crossed to a junction panel and ripped it open. I watched his hands fly—decisive, practiced, wrong in all the right ways.
I placed my palm against the cabinet beside him and let myself sync—not fully, not enough to alert the deeper layers.
Just enough to whisper.
The system flinched.
Keifer glanced at me, sharp. "What did you do?"
"Convinced it we're already gone," I said. "For about ninety seconds."
He grinned. Fast. Gone just as quick.
"That's all we need."
Keifer POV Egress Tunnel — Eastern Runoff Line
The tunnel smelled like wet concrete and old coolant. Water dripped somewhere far off, rhythmic and steady.
Almost peaceful.
We ran.
Not panicked. Not reckless. Efficient strides, corners taken tight, no wasted movement. I checked behind us once—sensors still blind, pursuit lagging.
They'd catch up.
They always did.
But not yet.
Ahead, the tunnel split.
The pull shifted—not sharp, but reassuring. Forward meant out.
"Home stretch," I muttered.
She glanced at me, eyes bright despite everything. "You always say that right before it gets worse."
I shrugged. "Tradition."
The exit hatch loomed ahead, marked OBSOLETE like a dare.
I slammed the release.
Cold night air rushed in, carrying rain and ozone and freedom.
I stepped aside. "After you."
She didn't hesitate.
Jay POV Exterior — Eastern Floodplain
The rain hit my face and I laughed before I could stop myself.
Not loud. Just breathless.
The building behind us loomed, lights blazing, systems already rewriting the story of what happened tonight.
Let them.
Keifer sealed the hatch and turned, scanning the dark horizon.
"What now?" I asked.
He met my eyes, steady as ever.
"Now we disappear," he said. "Then we figure out what they did to you."
A pause.
"And then," he added quietly, "we make sure they never get the chance again."
The bond settled—not pulling, not hurting.
Aligned.
I nodded once.
"Lead the way," I said.
And this time, I knew he would.