Damian woke slowly.
Sound came first. A low hum, constant and controlled, vibrating through the chair and into his bones. Not generators. Too even for that. Climate control, tuned to keep a body functioning, not comfortable.
Pain followed immediately.
Sharp and unforgiving, tearing through his shoulder and down his arm. It stole his breath before he could stop it. His jaw locked. He stayed quiet.
He opened his eyes.
Concrete ceiling. Bare. Cracked in thin lines that spread unevenly. Recessed lights left the edges of the room just dim enough to hide detail.
He tried his hands.
They didn't move.
Magnetic restraints locked him to the chair. Integrated. Responsive. Military grade. Built for people who didn't cooperate.
Good.
That told him how seriously they were taking this.
He turned his head slowly. Fire ripped through his shoulder. This time he let himself breathe once, steady and controlled. The room was bigger than the one Aria had been kept in before. Cleaner. Designed, not borrowed.
They hadn't improvised this.
They had been waiting for him.
The door across the room opened without a sound.
Three men walked in.
No masks. No rush.
That was new.
The one in front carried himself like someone who never needed to raise his voice. No visible weapon. Clean clothes. Calm eyes. Violence, when he used it, would be deliberate.
"You're awake," the man said.
Damian lifted his gaze and met it. "You took your time."
The man's mouth curved slightly. "You're injured."
"For now."
That earned a longer look.
"You know why you're here," the man said. "So let's skip the posturing."
Damian stayed quiet.
Silence still worked.
"You've interfered with operations that took years to build," the man continued. "You've burned assets that weren't yours to touch."
"Then you should have moved faster," Damian said.
The man exhaled, half amused. "You still think this is about strength."
"It is," Damian replied. "You just misunderstood where it comes from."
The man paused, then nodded to someone behind him.
The lights dimmed slightly. A screen came to life on the far wall.
Aria appeared.
Seated. Restrained. Upright.
Her face was pale. Her jaw set. Her eyes steady.
She wasn't crying.
She wasn't breaking.
She was watching.
Damian felt it in his chest before he could stop it, then forced it down. Not fear. Awareness.
She was a strong one, that's why he couldn't help liking her.
"This is usually where control slips," the man said quietly.
Damian didn't look away from the screen. "You're showing her to me because you want something," he said. "Which means you don't have it."
The man studied him. "I was warned you'd be difficult."
"You were warned lightly."
A flicker of approval crossed the man's face before he masked it.
The screen went dark.
---
Aria noticed the difference the moment they stopped moving.
The air. The light. The way sound carried.
This place wasn't temporary.
That made it dangerous.
The restraints were tighter than before. Smarter. Adjusted for her. She flexed her fingers slowly and kept her breathing even.
Fear wouldn't help now.
The door opened.
Two men stepped in. One familiar. One new. They positioned themselves on either side of her without touching her.
"You refuse to eat anything still?" the familiar one said.
She looked straight at him. "Where is he?"
The second man laughed softly. "Still focused on him."
"Yes," Aria said. "And that should concern you."
A brief pause.
"He's alive," the first man said. "For the moment."
Her jaw tightened. Anger, not panic.
"You hurt him."
"We restrained him," the man replied.
"There's no difference," she said.
The man leaned in slightly. "You think caring makes you dangerous."
"No," Aria said. "I think underestimating it makes you stupid."
The second man scoffed. "You think he's getting you out of here?"
She smiled. Small. Unfriendly.
"I think you already made the mistake you won't recover from."
They exchanged looks.
"Move her," the first man said.
They loosened the restraints just enough to walk her. Careful. Controlled.
She let them.
The corridor opened ahead of them.
Halfway down, she heard a voice.
Damian's.
Calm. Steady. Alive.
Her steps slowed for half a second.
Enough for them to notice.
---
Damian watched the screen closely.
The hesitation. The way she corrected it.
She understood exactly what was happening.
Good.
The man shut the screen off. "This ends now."
"It does," Damian agreed.
"You're not in control here."
"No," Damian said. "But I understand what comes next."
He leaned back as far as the restraints allowed. His shoulder screamed. He ignored it.
"You didn't bring me here to kill me," he continued. "And you didn't take her for leverage. You brought us here because you want to shape what happens after."
The man stayed silent.
"You're not the one making decisions," Damian said. "You manage them."
That hit.
The man's expression tightened. "Careful."
"You work for someone who doesn't show his face," Damian said. "Someone who lost something to me and hasn't forgiven it."
The room felt smaller.
"You sealed this place," Damian went on. "Cut my people off. You think time works for you."
He met the man's eyes.
"It doesn't."
The man stepped closer. "You're bleeding. Restrained. And the woman you care about is moving farther away by the minute."
Damian smiled. "Then you should move her again."
"Why?"
"Because if she's still in this building," Damian said quietly, "you're already too late."
The man laughed once, sharp. "You think threats scare me?"
"No," Damian said. "I think patterns do."
The alarm sounded.
Low. Internal.
The man froze and turned toward the door.
Damian spoke calmly. "That's not your system failing."
Something shifted above them. Heavy. Wrong.
---
Aria felt it under her feet.
Not machinery.
Movement.
One of the men swore. "That wasn't us."
Her pulse picked up, but she stayed steady.
"Pressure," she said quietly, "always shows the weak spots."
They reached a junction.
The lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Gunfire echoed somewhere distant.
"Move," the man snapped.
The lights went out.
Darkness.
A shout.
A body slammed into the wall.
Hands fumbled. A grip loosened.
Aria moved.
Her elbow drove back hard. She twisted, using the confusion, and slammed her shoulder into the control panel she had memorized earlier.
The lights came back on.
Red.
Alarms screaming now.
The man closest to her stared, stunned.
She smiled.
"You should have planned better," she said.
And deep inside the facility, Damian Cole felt the shift.
Not toward escape.
Toward war.