They stood soaked from the rain. In front of them, untouched by the falling droplets, was the Resistance container. Embedded among the others like a piece of alien machinery, it stood out only by the camera that passively watched Lucien and Sophie.

  Lucien watched as Sophie knocked once more on the slightly rusted door with steady determination.Why were they taking so long to let them in?

  “Is no one there?” Lucien asked quietly, as if speaking to himself—yet loud enough for Sophie to hear over the sound of the rain.

  “That’s not the reason,” she replied coldly, evasively. She didn’t want to answer.

  She knocked again. She knew someone was watching them from the other side of that camera. In her mind’s eye, she saw them gathered around monitors, ughing at her.

  The longer they stood there, the more the rain soaked into their clothes. Sophie knocked again—firmly, with resolve. Eventually, they would have to let them in.

  The door creaked and opened slightly, revealing a gray-haired, slightly hunched man.

  “You coming in or what?” Mark prompted.

  Sophie stepped in first, immediately pulling down her soaked hood. Lucien followed close behind, quickly scanning the room.

  It was so packed that people were bumping into each other just to get by. Thick cigarette smoke hit Lucien like a toxic fog suspended in the air. The noise of the crowd was overwhelming, and the heat was suffocating. No one would want to be here unless they had a reason—and they had theirs.

  “Why didn’t you want to let us in?” His voice was quiet, but firm. The kind of voice people listen to, even when they don’t want to.

  Sophie didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to.Mark looked at her and licked his cracked lips.

  “She doesn’t have a great reputation,” he said curtly. He gnced around the container, as if checking to see if anyone was listening. The eyes of the resistance members slid over him indifferently, like he was just another piece of furniture.

  Lucien narrowed his eyes.“Why?”

  Mark sighed and lowered his voice, though the surrounding noise still drowned out most conversations.

  “Two years ago, she made a mistake. A bad call. People died because of it. And even though she’s done everything she can to make it right…” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “You can’t get back something they don’t know how to give.”

  Sophie lowered her gaze. There was no anger in her face—only something worse. Resignation.

  Lucien looked at her, then at Mark. He didn’t like that answer.

  “The st mission failed,” Sophie said, dropping her soaked jacket to the floor. The wet fabric hit with a heavy sp, knocking a nearby piece of furniture askew. She didn’t look at Mark, who suddenly seemed more interested in the crooked table. “We couldn’t get Nash out.”

  Mark stopped fiddling with the table. He froze. His gray brows drew together, and something flickered across his face—something that could’ve passed for sympathy, if not for the glint of madness in his eyes.

  “What happened to him?” His voice was hard, sharp like a rusted bde.

  Sophie took a deep breath. There was no good way to say it.

  “He burned out.”

  Silence fell between them, thick as if someone had cut the oxygen from the room. In the background, people ughed, argued, passed bottles of liquor—but here, in this narrow slice of space, everything stood still.

  “Bullshit,” Mark growled. His eyes flew open wide, pupils twitching like an animal ready to strike. “That’s impossible. That’s…”

  “It’s a fact,” Sophie cut him off. “Nash isn’t one of us anymore. He doesn’t think like us. Doesn’t feel like us. The moment he starts putting things together again, he’ll give up this hideout.”

  Mark lunged at her so fast Lucien instinctively reached for his belt, searching for a weapon. The old man grabbed Sophie’s arm and yanked, his fingers digging into her skin like cws. He wasn’t strong, but rage gave him force.

  “Goddamn it, Sophie,” he hissed. “You’ve just put a target on all our backs!”

  Sophie didn’t flinch. She stared straight into his eyes, her face cold and calm. She didn’t need to answer. They both knew—they had to run.

  “We don’t have time,” Lucien said, stepping toward them slowly. His voice, though calm, carried the weight of a command. “We need to get out of here.”

  Mark grunted and let go of Sophie. He took a step back, breathing heavily, then let out a short, nervous ugh.

  “We’re dead,” he spat. “It’s already over for us.”

  “Not yet,” Sophie replied, turning to the rest of the people who might’ve overheard them. “But if we don’t start thinking, it will be.”

  They ignored her.

  Mark’s eyes scanned the faces crammed inside the container. Dirty, exhausted—some drunk, others barely conscious from fatigue. Their cheeks were hollow, their eyes sunken. They reeked of sweat, damp, and fear.

  These were the ones meant to fight for a better tomorrow? The future?

  He snorted quietly to himself, though no one could hear it over the noise.

  His gaze stopped on a boy in the corner, barely standing, held up by a companion. Nearby, a girl with trembling hands tried loading bullets into a pistol, dropping every other round. And in the center, a group of hunched figures whispered to one another, as if whispering could shield them from the brutality of reality.

  These weren’t people. Not the kind he remembered. Real people had certainty in their eyes, a straight spine—not this blind, desperate stubbornness.This… this was something else. Something weaker. Something broken.

  He sighed and turned to Sophie.

  “I’ll break down the gear and head back to my pce. If they come looking for me, they know where to find me.”

  He didn’t say if you come looking for me. They weren’t his. Not even something he wanted to be associated with.The Resistance... Big words for a bunch of doomed fools who hadn’t yet realized the war was already lost.

  Sophie watched him go, feeling the eyes of the others press against her skin. These weren’t normal gnces—these were sharp, weighted with silent resentment, as if her mere presence was stealing something from them they couldn’t forgive.

  She drew a breath and stepped forward.

  “We need to talk!” her voice cracked against the metal walls of the container but was drowned in the sea of conversations, curses, clinking bottles, and the rustle of bodies brushing against each other in the cramped space. No one flinched.

  Lucien didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.

  “You have two options,” he said, slowly, calmly. “Listen—or die.”

  The noise began to die down. Those closest turned their heads. Further away, someone was still ughing, but it sounded forced now, uncertain.Soon, the whole room fell silent.

  Lucien stood straight, not looking at anyone in particur—and yet, it felt like he was looking at everyone all at once.

  “We have a message,” he continued, same even tone. “It concerns every single one of you.”

  Sophie watched his words nd like seeds in dry soil—silent, invisible at first, but digging deep. She hadn’t known him long, but the way he turned silence into a weapon impressed her.

  She felt the silence stretch, heavy and sticky with tension. They had the crowd’s attention—but not their trust. That had never come easy to her.

  “The st mission failed,” she began, her voice wavering slightly. She caught it, steadied herself. “The hideout’s burned. Not literally. Not yet. But that’s only a matter of time. We have to move.”

  A ripple of unrest passed through the crowd. Someone cursed under their breath, another smmed a fist into the metal wall.They all knew what it meant. Losing a hideout meant losing the illusion of safety—something they hadn’t had in a long time.

  “But that’s not all,” Sophie went on before the noise could spiral into chaos. “We got intel. We know where Kail is.”

  A beat of silence. Then—detonation.

  People shouted over one another, voices cshing like steel. Emotions erupted like molten metal tossed into water.

  “Why save a monster?!” someone screamed, and others echoed the sentiment.

  Sophie clenched her fists.

  “Because Kail alone can take down ten armed soldiers with military training!” she snapped. “How many of you can do that?!”

  “Even if we get him back, what the hell do we need him for?!” another voice shot from the crowd.

  “You’d rather die at the hands of the Sons of the Singurity?” she shot back without hesitation. “Because if that’s the pn—fine. We can walk away.”

  The noise dimmed for a moment. People exchanged gnces.

  “Will it make us stronger? Will it weaken the Sons’ position?”

  Sophie let out a short, bitter ugh.

  “Of course it will. Or have you already forgotten how Kail took down a Css Six mutant? How many of you saw it with your own eyes? How many saw what he’s really capable of?”

  Another wave of voices. Someone murmured in agreement. Others remained unconvinced.

  “Why the hell should we listen to a Fg?!” a man shouted, gring at her with open contempt.

  Sophie felt something tighten inside her. She’d expected that. She knew it was coming.

  “You don’t have to take my word for it,” she said slowly, keeping her breathing steady. “But think about the facts. Think about what we stand to gain with someone like Kail fighting beside us.”

  Silence settled again. Not agreement—not yet. But Sophie could see it in their faces: doubt had been pnted.And sometimes, that was all it took to change the course of a battle.