The tunnels were louder than Aiden expected.
Not with machines or alarms, but with people. Voices bounced from concrete to rusted metal, overlapping in a constant murmur: arguments over supplies, laughter that sounded too sharp, the distant cry of a baby.
This wasn't just a hideout.
It was a neighborhood.
Lysa led them through it with the ease of someone who knew every crack in the walls. People stepped aside when they saw her, some nodding, some staring at Aiden's uniform with open suspicion.
"Eyes front, Agent," she said over her shoulder. "Try not to look like you want to arrest everyone."
"I don't," he said.
"Good start," Kael muttered beside him. "Maybe don't say that too loud."
The collar around Kael's neck hummed softly, reacting to the density of magic in the air. Here, wards were improvised, layered by different hands over time. The band on his wrist flared whenever they passed a particular junction, as if arguing with invisible spells.
"Sit him down before the thing decides to tighten out of pure spite," someone called from a nearby table.
The speaker was a man in his thirties with ink‑stained fingers and a worn jacket. He pushed aside a pile of maps and jerked his head toward a crate.
"Kael," he said. "You look like hell."
"Thanks, Taro," Kael replied, dropping onto the crate. "You always know what to say."
Taro's gaze flicked to Aiden.
"And this is?" he asked.
"The reason we have you back," Lysa said. "Aiden Lioren. Formerly of Unit Alpha."
"Formerly," Taro repeated. "That was fast."
"Convoys are good for cutting ties," Kael said under his breath.
Aiden ignored that.
"We can argue about titles later," Lysa said. "Right now, his father will be locking down half the city. We need to get the collar and the band off before they use them to track us."
Taro grimaced.
"Band first," he said. "Collar's trickier. Those things are built so they hurt anyone who tries to pry."
He crouched in front of Kael, turning his wrist to study the device.
"Department model, last‑gen," he said. "Overconfident. They thought the tether would be enough control, so they cut corners on the redundancy."
He glanced up at Aiden.
"You smashed the control?" he asked.
"Yes," Aiden said.
"Good," Taro replied. "That saves us ten minutes of cursing."
He reached into a pouch at his belt and pulled out a small, flattened tool that looked like two coins fused together. Its surface was etched with fine runes.
"This will sting," he said.
"It already stings," Kael said. "Just do it."
Taro pressed the tool to the band.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then the runes flared, reacting to the suppressor's core. The band's light went from blue to angry red. Heat licked along Kael's skin.
He sucked in a breath, knuckles going white.
Aiden took a half step forward.
"Wait," he said. "If it overloads—"
"It won't," Taro said. "Probably."
"Very reassuring," Kael grated.
There was a sharp pop.
The band's light died. The metal relaxed, then snapped open like a broken shackle, falling into Taro's hand.
Kael exhaled shakily, flexing his fingers.
"That feels better," he said. "Like someone stopped sitting on my nerves."
"One problem down," Lysa said. "Now for the one around your neck."
Taro's mouth pressed into a thin line.
"The collar's wired straight to a pain core," he said. "If we trip the wrong circuit, he's out cold or worse. I can't do it here, with this much random magic around. We need a clean room."
"Where?" Aiden asked.
"Old substation," Taro said. "Farther out, past the broken rail line. We use it for delicate work. It's shielded, no stray currents. But getting there means moving through three sectors and one of them is right under a Department patrol route."
"So we move fast and quiet," Lysa said. "Split our trail, send decoys above. We've handled worse."
"Not with a fresh traitor in Department armor," Taro pointed out, looking at Aiden.
"He's our traitor," Kael said.
The words were simple.
The way he said our wasn't.
Aiden felt it land like a small, unexpected weight in his chest.
"You trust him that fast?" Taro asked Kael.
"I trust that he had a hundred chances to stop this and didn't," Kael replied. "That's worth something."
"It also means his father will throw everything at getting him back," Taro said. "We just made ourselves very interesting to the wrong people."
"We were already interesting," Lysa said. "This just makes it official."
She turned to Aiden.
"You're quiet," she said. "Regretting your life choices yet?"
"Ask me after I've slept," Aiden said.
"Sleep," Kael echoed. "That's a nice idea."
He swayed slightly where he sat.
Aiden stepped closer reflexively.
"Hey," he said. "Sit still."
"I am sitting," Kael said, blinking. "The room just… doesn't agree."
Taro cursed softly.
"Adrenaline crash," he said. "Plus suppression hangover. He needs rest before we move him again."
"We don't have time," Lysa argued.
"We don't have another Kael either," Taro shot back. "You drag him through three tunnels like this, he's going to pass out where you can't protect him."
Aiden looked at Kael.
The sharpness that usually lived behind his eyes had dulled, replaced by a stubborn fatigue.
"How long," Aiden asked Taro, "before he can move safely?"
"Couple hours," Taro said. "If we're lucky."
Lysa exhaled through her teeth.
"Fine," she said. "Short stop. We rotate watchers, prep routes, pack light. Agent—" she caught herself, "Aiden, you help with mapping. You know where they'll sweep first."
He nodded.
"And me?" Kael asked.
"You," Taro said, "try not to fry my tools while you sleep."
He pointed toward a narrow side alcove partitioned by hanging fabric.
"Lie down," he said. "Doctor's orders. And by 'doctor' I mean the guy who doesn't want to drag your unconscious body through a flood channel."
Kael pushed himself up, moving more carefully than he wanted to show.
As he passed Aiden, he paused.
"You coming back?" he asked quietly.
"To the alcove?" Aiden asked. "You want company?"
Kael's mouth curved.
"You just torched your career and your father's trust in one morning," he said. "If I were you, I wouldn't want to sit alone with my thoughts either."
He disappeared through the curtain.
Lysa waved Aiden toward a table covered in maps and old screens.
"Come on," she said. "Let's plan how not to die on the way out."
***
The tunnels outside the alcove buzzed with motion.
Aiden traced lines on the maps, marking places where he knew Department patrols favored, where shield coverage overlapped, where drones passed on predictable schedules. Lysa drew new paths around them, weaving through maintenance shafts and forgotten stairwells.
"You know a lot for someone who never leaves the shiny upper levels," she said.
"Order needs plumbing," Aiden said. "Somebody has to understand the pipes."
"That might be the first time I've heard an agent compare their job to plumbing," Lysa said.
"Agents don't usually talk like this down here," Taro added. "Usually it's 'comply, or else.'"
Aiden shrugged, the motion tight.
"Things change," he said.
"Apparently," Lysa replied.
When the immediate work was done, when the maps were overwritten with new routes and the runners briefed, Aiden found himself standing outside the curtain of the alcove without fully deciding to walk there.
He hesitated.
Then he slipped inside.
***
The space was small, barely big enough for a thin mattress and a crate stacked with blankets. A single battery‑powered lamp cast soft light over the rough walls.
Kael lay on his side, one arm tucked under his head. The collar glowed faintly against the shadow of his throat. His eyes were open, fixed on a crack in the ceiling.
"You sleep very quietly," Aiden said.
Kael huffed.
"I tried," he said. "My brain disagreed."
Aiden sat on the crate.
"Side effects?" he asked.
"Noise," Kael said. "Everything feels loud in here." He tapped his chest lightly. "But also… quiet. The band being gone helps. Like half the city stopped yelling at my nerves."
"That's the suppression fields," Aiden said. "Department systems talk to each other whether you want them to or not."
"Figures," Kael said.
Silence stretched for a few seconds.
"Do you regret it?" Kael asked suddenly.
"Regret what?" Aiden said, even though he knew.
"Us," Kael said. "This. The jump."
Aiden looked at his hands.
"I don't know yet," he admitted. "Ask me when I see the full damage report."
Kael rolled onto his back, wincing.
"You still think in reports," he said.
"Hard habit to break," Aiden replied.
"You're allowed to say you're scared, you know," Kael said. "Nobody down here will fire you for it."
Aiden let out a slow breath.
"Scared doesn't cover it," he said. "My father will hunt this personally. Mara knows my tricks. The Department will paint you as a weapon they lost control of, and me as the idiot who helped."
"So nothing new," Kael said. "They already saw me as that."
He turned his head, studying Aiden.
"I meant what I said out there," Kael added. "You did it. You didn't flinch. Even when she shot you."
"That armor's expensive," Aiden said. "Be a shame not to test it."
Kael's mouth twitched.
"You deflect with jokes almost as much as I do," he said. "This is very upsetting."
"You started it," Aiden said.
"That raid?" Kael asked. "You started that."
"I meant the banter," Aiden replied.
Kael's laugh turned into a cough.
Aiden shifted closer without thinking.
"Easy," he said.
Kael's hand brushed his wrist.
The contact was brief, accidental.
The jolt it sent up Aiden's arm wasn't electric.
"Thanks," Kael murmured.
Aiden looked away, jaw tight.
"You should try to rest," he said. "We move soon."
"You'll wake me?" Kael asked.
"Yes," Aiden said.
"Don't let them carry me," Kael added. "If I pass out, you drag me yourself. I don't trust Taro not to drop me on purpose."
"Taro seems competent," Aiden said.
"He also still owes me from the time I shorted his favorite battery pack," Kael said. "He holds grudges."
Aiden nodded once.
"If you fall," he said quietly, "I'll catch you."
The words hung there, heavier than he meant them to be.
Kael's gaze softened.
"Careful," he said. "Say things like that too often and I might start believing you."
His eyes drifted closed, lashes casting faint shadows.
In the quiet, Aiden could hear the steady rhythm of his breathing, the distant noise of the underground city beyond the curtain, and the faint hum of the collar constant, unwelcome.
He hated that sound.
He hadn't realized how much until now.
***
Outside, Lysa watched the alcove from a distance.
Taro came to stand beside her, wiping grease from his hands.
"You sure about him?" Taro asked.
"No," Lysa said. "But Kael is. And I've seen enough broken kids to know what it means when someone chooses to stand between them and the people holding the leash."
"Leash is still on," Taro pointed out. "And the hand holding it is going to start pulling soon."
"I know," Lysa said.
She tapped the map where the old substation lay, far from the safe noise of this tunnel.
"We get that collar off," she said, "and he's not a leash anymore. He's a storm on our side."
"And the Agent?" Taro asked.
She looked at Aiden's silhouette through the curtain, the way he sat still beside Kael, as if afraid that moving would break something fragile.
"The Agent," she said, "is a boy who just burned his bridges with a match he doesn't know how to put down yet."
Taro snorted.
"Poetic," he said.
"Don't get used to it," she replied. "We move in an hour. Tell everyone to be ready."
As Taro walked away, the distant wail of sirens from above filtered faintly through the concrete muffled but insistent.
Time was running out.
In the small alcove, Kael finally slept, collar still glowing.
And Aiden, who had spent his life enforcing the city's rules, sat awake in the dark, listening to a world he'd never been meant to belong to.