Lines Already Crossed
They didn't stop running until the city swallowed them whole.
Neon signs flickered overhead as Aria stumbled out of the service tunnel and into a narrow street drenched in artificial light. Her lungs burned. Her legs shook. The sounds of the laboratory—alarms, boots, steel doors—faded behind them, replaced by the distant hum of traffic and hovering transports.
Kieran slowed only when they reached a crowded intersection. He released her hand, blending effortlessly into the moving crowd.
"Walk," he said quietly. "Don't look back."
Aria forced herself to obey. Every nerve screamed danger as she matched his pace, heart still racing. People brushed past her, laughing, talking, unaware that her world had just split in two.
"Where are we?" she asked under her breath.
"Lower Novus," Kieran replied. "No cameras for three blocks. No patrols for five."
She shot him a sharp glance. "You know the city's blind spots."
"I helped design them."
That made her stumble.
"You worked for the Council," she said. It wasn't a question.
"Yes."
"And you expect me to believe you're suddenly on my side?"
Kieran didn't answer immediately. They turned down another street, darker this time, the glow of the upper city fading behind them. He stopped beneath a flickering streetlamp and finally faced her.
"I'm not on anyone's side," he said. "I'm here because you triggered something that was supposed to stay buried."
Aria crossed her arms, grounding herself. "You said I crossed a threshold."
"You did." His gaze dropped briefly to her temples. "The moment you saw yourself die, time noticed you."
Her stomach twisted. "That's not how physics works."
"It is when physics is already broken."
She shook her head. "You said tomorrow burns. You said I don't survive the week. I need more than riddles."
Kieran exhaled slowly. "Fair."
He reached into his coat again and pulled out a thin, transparent shard—no larger than a credit chip. He pressed it between his fingers, and light flared to life.
The air shimmered.
Aria's breath caught as a projection unfolded between them.
The city skyline fractured, buildings splitting and overlapping like reflections in broken glass. Streets looped into themselves. People froze mid-step, their images blurring, duplicating, then vanishing.
"This is Novus," Kieran said. "Three days from now."
Her pulse thundered. "That's impossible."
"So was what you built," he replied.
The projection shifted.
A familiar lab appeared—her lab. Security drones hovered overhead. And there she was, standing at the center of the room, arguing with unseen figures.
"Stop," Aria whispered.
The image froze on a single frame.
Her body collapsed.
Blood spread across the floor.
The projection vanished.
Aria sucked in a sharp breath, her vision blurring. "You said I die trying to fix it alone."
"Yes."
"Why?" she demanded. "Why not arrest me? Why not stop me from ever building it?"
"Because every time we tried," Kieran said quietly, "the outcome was worse."
She stared at him. "We?"
"The Council. The oversight division. The people who clean up after time breaks."
Her hands trembled. "Then why are you here now?"
Kieran met her gaze, something heavy settling in his eyes.
"Because this is the first timeline where you saw the future before they came for you."
Aria's chest tightened.
"That means," he continued, "this is the first time we have a chance to change it."
A low drone hummed overhead.
Kieran's head snapped up.
"Time's up," he muttered.
Aria followed his gaze. A surveillance craft hovered at the edge of the street, its lights scanning slowly.
"They found us already?" she asked.
"Not you," he said. "The disturbance."
He grabbed her wrist again. "Come on. You need somewhere safe."
"Safe from what?" she asked as they moved.
He didn't answer right away.
Then, quietly, "From the future you're creating."
They vanished into the shadows as the drone passed overhead, unaware that the rules it existed to enforce were already unraveling.