The cell block had grown quieter in the days following Minka’s solitary confinement, but for Viola and Leanna, the absence of their leader sat heavy like a stone in the pit of their stomachs.

  Leanna sat on the edge of her bunk, arms folded tightly across her chest, staring at the flickering light that barely lit the cramped space. The sounds of other inmates shuffled faintly beyond the barred door—muted conversations, the scrape of boots against metal, the occasional bark of a guard—but it all seemed distant, like background noise in a world that felt smaller without Minka’s steady presence.

  “She’s been gone too long,” Leanna muttered, her voice tight.

  Viola, sprawled lazily on the opposite bunk, one arm draped behind her head, barely glanced over. “It’s been four days, Leanna. They probably stuffed her down the hole to cool off.”

  Leanna’s blue eyes snapped toward her, frustration bleeding through. “And you’re just fine with that?”

  Viola’s grin was sharp, but there was a flicker of unease behind it. “What do you want me to do? Storm the guards with a spoon?” She gestured toward the locked door, the motion exaggerated. “They’ll let her out when they’re good and ready.”

  Leanna stood abruptly, pacing the narrow length of the cell, her boots scuffing against the metal floor. “You didn’t see the way they dragged her off. She didn’t even fight them. She just—she looked back at me like everything was fine, but it wasn’t.”

  Viola sighed, finally sitting up, resting her elbows on her knees. “Minka always looks like that. Calm even when the sky’s falling.” Her smirk faded slightly. “That’s what pisses me off the most.”

  Leanna stopped pacing, turning to face her. “What do you mean?”

  Viola leaned back, running a hand through her dark hair. “She takes everything on herself. The fights, the blame. Like she’s gotta be the one to shield us from all of it.” She glanced toward the barred door, her jaw tightening. “But that kind of weight? It wears on people. No one’s that unbreakable.”

  Leanna’s expression softened, but the worry still etched the corners of her eyes. “We shouldn’t have let her—”

  “What? Fight for herself?” Viola cut in, standing now, crossing the space between them. “Don’t blame yourself, Leanna. Minka makes her own choices. She always has.” She lowered her voice, glancing toward the hallway beyond their cell. “But this place is grinding her down, like it’s grinding all of us down.”

  Leanna sank back onto her bunk, her gaze distant. “I wonder if Sannet’s still out there… doing something.”

  Viola raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking into a familiar smirk. “You mean brooding in a dark corner somewhere? Yeah, probably.”

  Leanna gave her a weak glare, but her voice softened. “I just… if anyone could get us out of this, it’s her.”

  Viola nodded, though the grin slipped. “Yeah. Ice queen with a sword. She’s got her own way of doing things. But I wouldn’t count on her swooping in like some kind of hero. Sannet plays the long game.”

  Leanna let out a slow breath. “I know. But it’d be nice to know she hasn’t forgotten us.”

  Viola leaned against the wall again, arms crossed, her gaze unfocused. “She hasn’t. Minka trusted her too much for that.”

  For a moment, they both sat in that shared silence, imagining Sannet out there, calculating, waiting for her moment. If there was anyone outside the walls still working toward their freedom, it would be her.

  “I just…” Leanna exhaled slowly. “I hate feeling useless. Sitting here while Minka’s—alone.”

  Viola’s grin returned, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Don’t worry. When she gets back, I’m giving her hell for leaving us with nothing to do.”

  Leanna chuckled softly, though the worry lingered beneath. “You think she’s okay?”

  Viola’s smirk faltered, her gaze dropping to the floor. “I think she’s tougher than all of us combined. But I don’t know how long even Minka can hold up in a place like this.”

  They both turned as the distant sound of a door slamming echoed through the halls. Another day passing. Another day without Minka. Another day in the endless cycle of uncertainty.

  The cell door clanged open with a metallic groan that snapped both Leanna and Viola to their feet. The guard stepped aside, and there stood Minka—silent, gaunt, her brown hair hanging damp against her cheeks, green eyes shadowed beneath dark rings. She moved with a slow, deliberate grace, no wasted energy, no trace of the fire that had once burned just beneath the surface.

  Leanna rushed forward, her voice cracking with relief. “Minka—”

  But she stopped herself. Something in Minka’s posture—the way she held herself stiff and distant—sent a shiver down her spine.

  Minka raised a hand, her movements slow, measured. “I’m fine,” she said simply, voice even but flat. No warmth. No smile.

  Viola leaned against the wall, arms crossed, her smirk half-hearted. “Took your sweet time. Thought they might’ve stuffed you in a hole and forgotten where they left you.”

  Minka only gave a curt nod and moved to sit against the far wall, her eyes fixed on nothing in particular. She wiped a hand across her face, as if scrubbing away something unseen.

  Leanna hovered uncertainly. “What did they do to you?”

  Minka’s gaze snapped to her, sharper now. “Nothing I didn’t survive.” She paused, then drew a breath. “But we need to talk.”

  Her words cut through the tension in the air like a blade. Viola’s grin faded, replaced by wary curiosity. Leanna crossed her arms, her unease growing.

  “I met with the Warden.” Minka’s voice was steady, her eyes unreadable. “He offered us a deal. A mission.”

  Leanna’s brow furrowed. “A deal?”

  Minka nodded once. “Retrieve a data card from an old complex. Something valuable enough to wipe our records clean.”

  Viola let out a low whistle. “Freedom for a little fetch quest? Sounds like we finally caught a break.”

  But Leanna’s fists clenched at her sides, her voice tightening. “And you trust him? After everything they’ve done to us?”

  Minka met her gaze without flinching. “I trust the leverage. It’s an opportunity. We take it, we walk free.”

  Leanna stepped closer, her blue eyes burning. “You’ve changed,” she accused. “This isn’t you. You would’ve never entertained something like this. You’re playing right into their hands.”

  Minka stood, slow and deliberate, facing her fully. The calm in her expression was more unsettling than any rage. “I’ve learned, Leanna. Sitting in that hole, I thought about everything we’ve done, everything we’ve fought for. And you know what I realized? All of it means nothing if we’re dead.”

  Leanna’s jaw tightened. “So now you’ll do whatever they ask? No questions? No fight?”

  Minka’s eyes narrowed, but her tone remained even. “I’ll do what it takes to get us out of here. To keep us alive long enough to choose the right fight.”

  Leanna shook her head, her voice rising. “At what cost, Minka? How much of yourself are you willing to give up for that?”

  Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Viola watched from the sideline, arms folded, her usual grin absent. She studied Minka closely, noting the shift in her—how the fire hadn’t burned out, but had turned to something colder, sharper.

  Minka’s voice dropped, low and firm. “You think dying here in chains makes you noble? I’m not dying for their amusement. Not here. Not like this. If that means making a deal, so be it.”

  Leanna glared, her breathing uneven. “You’re compromising everything we stood for.”

  Minka stepped closer, lowering her voice but hardening her tone. “And you’re clinging to ideals that’ll get you killed.”

  The words landed heavy between them, neither willing to yield.

  Viola finally spoke, breaking the tension. “You two done yet?” Her voice was quiet, but her gaze stayed fixed on Minka, weighing, measuring. “Because whether this is a trap or not, I’m sick of these walls. I’m in.”

  Leanna turned to her, betrayal flickering in her eyes. “Viola—”

  But Viola shrugged, her smirk returning, though softer. “Look, I’m not saying Minka’s right. But rotting in here isn’t exactly giving me moral clarity either.”

  Minka didn’t speak, just watched Leanna, waiting.

  Leanna shook her head, stepping back, her voice softer but no less fierce. “I’m not doing this for the Warden. I’ll go because I won’t let you two walk into that place alone. But I don’t trust this. I don’t trust you right now.”

  Minka nodded once, accepting the words without argument.

  The cell fell silent, the space between them charged with unspoken conflict. Leanna sits across Minka this time, despite the lack of words the tension between them was thick. Viola, for once, had no quip to break the silence, only watching Minka with a curious gaze, wondering what had transpired in the depths to change their leader so profoundly.

  The clanging of metal echoed down the corridors as the guards unlocked their cell door, the sound sharp and final. Without a word, three armored men stepped inside, their faces hidden behind expressionless visors.

  “Move,” one barked, gesturing with his baton.

  Minka stood first, silent and composed, her face unreadable. Viola followed with a dramatic stretch and a lopsided grin, throwing an exaggerated wink at the nearest guard. Leanna lingered a second longer, her blue eyes casting a wary glance at Minka before stepping into line.

  The guards marched them through the labyrinth of stone and steel corridors, past cells filled with other inmates who watched with hollow eyes. The air smelled of rust, sweat, and something faintly metallic. Their boots echoed with each step, the weight of anticipation pressing down like chains.

  Eventually, they reached another section of the prison—a reinforced checkpoint with heavier doors and automated gun turrets mounted in the corners. Beyond the final set of doors was a chamber unlike any they’d seen before.

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  The Warden stood waiting. His black uniform was crisp, almost regal, his gloves immaculate as he idly adjusted a cuff. He stood beside a table displaying a holomap of a sprawling, decrepit complex, the lines of the structure glowing faintly under the dim lights.

  But it wasn’t just the Warden.

  A man stood to his right, arms crossed, his presence a wall unto itself. He wore a long, tattered commissar coat, the once-regal fabric faded and scuffed from years of wear. His face was angular, chiseled, with a jagged scar running down his left cheek, a permanent sneer etched beneath it. His eyes—steel-gray and unblinking—assessed the three of them like they were little more than problems to be solved or nuisances to be discarded.

  “This,” the Warden announced, gesturing toward the man with a half-hearted flourish, “is Woods. He’ll be accompanying you on this little endeavor. Consider him your handler. Former commissar—retired, though I doubt that’s the word he’d use.”

  Woods stepped forward, his boots clicking against the stone with military precision. His gaze swept over them, dismissive at first, then lingering on Minka. “You’re the ringleader, then,” he said, voice rough like gravel. “Don’t get any ideas about calling the shots.”

  Minka’s green eyes narrowed but she remained silent, her stance calm and unyielding.

  Woods shifted to Viola, giving her a once-over with clear disdain. “You’re the loudmouth, aren’t you?”

  Viola smirked, cocking an eyebrow. “Only when it gets results.”

  He ignored her, turning lastly to Leanna. His gaze lingered on her, studying, but whatever he thought, he kept it to himself.

  “I don’t care what you think you are in here,” Woods growled, addressing all three now. “Out there, I lead. You follow. If you can’t do that, you’ll be left behind—or worse.” His expression darkened. “This isn’t a jailbreak. This is a mission. You make it harder for me, I make it harder for you.”

  Viola leaned back against the nearest wall, arms folded, grin still in place but with a flicker of challenge in her eyes. “Charming.”

  Leanna shot her a look but kept silent, her gaze flicking between Minka and Woods.

  Minka stepped forward, her voice low and even. “We’re not here to cause trouble. We’re here to finish this.”

  Woods stared at her for a long moment, his gray eyes hard as steel. Then he nodded once. “We’ll see.”

  The Warden clapped his hands lightly, as if satisfied with the tension filling the room. “Good. Then we’re all in agreement.” He gestured to the holomap, the image zooming in on a section of the complex—a sprawling ruin of twisted corridors and collapsed structures deep beneath the earth.

  “This is the complex,” the Warden said, his tone brisk. “Built before the Cataclysm. Mostly abandoned, except for the scavengers who get lost down there or the things that move in the dark.”

  He tapped the map where a faint marker glowed. “The data card is located here. Or what’s left of it. You bring it back, we all walk away happy.”

  Without waiting for further discussion, the Warden nodded to Woods. “Get them moving.”

  The commissar-turned-handler turned sharply, barking at the guards. “Gear them up. We’re leaving now.”

  Within moments, the three were handed rough, standard-issue equipment—simple armor, sidearms, knives. Enough to give them a fighting chance but not enough to make escape easy.

  Woods holstered his weapon, his coat shifting as he marched ahead. “Stay close. Don’t fall behind.”

  Minka adjusted her gear, eyes distant but sharp. Viola stretched, cracking her knuckles. Leanna hesitated, her lips tight, before falling into step behind them.

  They marched down into the complex, the walls of the prison fading behind them, replaced by cold steel and the echoing silence of the unknown.

  The complex swallowed them whole, the faint hum of power long forgotten and the scent of old dust filling their lungs.

  The corridor narrowed as they moved deeper into the complex, the concrete walls closing in with each step. Time had stripped the place of purpose—consoles blinked weakly behind vines and dust, and the air buzzed with faint, dying electricity.

  Woods raised a hand. “Power signatures ahead. Something’s still breathing in this place.”

  The warning came too late.

  From the ceiling, a metal blur dropped with a shriek—joints sparking, claws flailing. The corridor erupted in chaos.

  Drones—ancient, rusted, but still dangerous—came in waves. One dragged a guard screaming into the dark before the others could react. Another tore down the side wall, its eyes flashing erratically.

  Viola let out a curse and dove for cover. “Well, that’s one way to start the morning!”

  Leanna fired, eyes wide, heart thundering. Her shots landed, sparks flying off armor. But there were too many.

  Then Minka moved.

  Not like before—not with the cocky fluidity she once wore like a second skin. She moved with silence and purpose, like a blade swung not in defense—but in judgment.

  She lunged, impaling one drone with brutal precision. Her movements were sharp, efficient, but behind each motion was something Leanna could see, though no one else did.

  It was in her eyes—burning not with resolve, but with something quieter. More dangerous.

  Regret. Rage. Not outwardly, not like fire, but like acid—slow, deep, eating through her with every blow she struck.

  She didn’t cry out. She didn’t even breathe hard. She fought like someone trying to erase something—herself, maybe. Her past.

  Viola, ducking a strike, laughed breathlessly. “Damn, Minka. Nice to know solitary didn’t dull your edge!”

  Minka said nothing. She crushed another drone’s neck joint with her elbow, slammed it down, and stabbed the hilt of her blade straight through its core with a sickening crunch.

  Woods barked orders at the remaining guards. “Form up! Watch the flanks!”

  Leanna kept shooting, but her eyes kept flicking back to Minka—how her jaw was locked, how her hands trembled after each kill, how she stared at the wreckage like it wasn’t just a pile of broken metal—but a graveyard.

  No one else noticed.

  Viola watched with casual admiration.

  Woods saw a soldier doing her job.

  Only Leanna saw the truth. That Minka was barely holding together, that each strike was a scream she didn’t allow herself to voice.

  Then the last drone fell, its carcass sparking at their feet. The silence returned—thick, metallic, wrong.

  Minka stood in the middle of it all, blood and oil coating her forearms, her blade heavy in her grip. She didn’t look up.

  Leanna slowly lowered her rifle, eyes fixed on her friend. Her breath caught in her throat.

  She wasn’t watching the Minka she used to know.

  She was watching someone trying to atone.

  Viola nudged her shoulder. “Hey. That was almost impressive. Starting to think she missed us.”

  Leanna didn’t answer.

  She just watched Minka quietly wipe her blade clean and step forward without a word—leaving behind not just the wreckage of their attackers… but a part of herself, too.

  The fight left behind nothing but twisted scrap and scorched walls. They pushed forward for another hour in tense silence, Woods at the lead, Viola somewhere between joking and grumbling, and Minka—wordless, unshakable—marching like the storm hadn't even touched her.

  Eventually, the corridor opened into a broad chamber—an old command post, long-abandoned. Cracked monitors blinked weakly on the far wall, displaying static and flickers of green code. Dust hung thick in the air, disturbed only by their tired movements. A long metal bench stood against one wall, and the air, while stale, no longer carried the bitter scent of burning circuits.

  Woods checked the map. “We rest here,” he said flatly. “Five minutes. Don’t wander.”

  He stepped aside and began coordinating something over a rusted terminal, muttering into a half-working commlink.

  Viola flopped onto the floor with a theatrical groan, rolling her shoulders. “Finally. My legs were about to secede.”

  But Leanna wasn’t paying attention to her. Her eyes were on Minka, who stood by herself near the edge of the chamber, facing the wall as if trying to disappear into it. Her shoulders were tense, her hands clenched at her sides.

  Leanna walked over slowly, cautious. Not afraid. Just… uncertain.

  “Hey,” she said softly.

  Minka didn’t turn. “You should rest.”

  Leanna stopped a few paces behind her. “So should you.”

  A beat of silence passed before Minka finally turned, leaning back against the wall. Her green eyes flicked up to meet Leanna’s, no longer burning, but heavy with something older. Something worn.

  Leanna stepped closer, dropping her pack and sitting on the floor, her back against the same wall. She patted the empty space beside her.

  For a moment, Minka hesitated. Then she sat down too.

  Neither spoke. The hum of broken machines filled the space between them, punctuated by the occasional murmur from Woods or the lazy clatter of Viola tossing an empty canteen aside. But she didn’t approach. She watched—just for a moment—then turned away and left them to it.

  “You’re quieter now,” Leanna said eventually

  Minka didn’t look at her. “Quieter doesn’t mean calmer.”

  “I know.”

  They sat in that stillness, shoulders nearly touching but both staring ahead at nothing.

  “I saw how you fought back there,” Leanna continued. “You weren’t just trying to survive.”

  Minka’s jaw tensed. “No.”

  “Then what?”

  Minka was silent for a long while. When she finally spoke, her voice was low, nearly a whisper. “I kept thinking… if I fought hard enough, if I struck fast enough… maybe I could hit the part of myself that let all of this happen.”

  Leanna turned toward her, but Minka still wouldn’t meet her gaze.

  “I dragged us into this,” she said. “I made the calls. Took the risks. Now look where we are.”

  Leanna’s voice was quiet. “We made those choices together, Minka.”

  “I led,” Minka snapped, just a bit too sharp. Then she exhaled, the edge crumbling. “And I didn’t protect you. Not you, not Viola. I thought if I held everything together—if I just held on tight enough—we’d all be fine.”

  She finally turned, her green eyes meeting Leanna’s. They weren’t fierce anymore. Just tired. Honest.

  “I was wrong.”

  The silence between them stretched, filled only by the low hum of dying circuitry and the occasional cough of static from the busted terminal across the room. Dust swirled in lazy patterns in the still air. Minka sat like a statue, unmoving, her gaze fixed on some distant point in the dark—something only she could see.

  Leanna studied her profile quietly. The flickering light from the cracked monitors danced across Minka’s face, illuminating the hollows beneath her eyes, the rigid line of her jaw. There was a stillness in her that hadn’t been there before—like a fire banked too long, the embers buried too deep.

  “You’re different,” Leanna said softly.

  Minka didn’t answer.

  “You’re not colder,” she continued. “But it’s like something’s gone out in you.”

  Minka finally turned, her eyes meeting hers—not fierce, not burning. Just… tired. “Something did,” she said.

  Leanna swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. “What?”

  Minka looked away again, her voice barely above a whisper. “Belief.”

  That word hit Leanna harder than she'd expected. She waited, watching the way Minka’s hands fidgeted—subtle, restrained, as though even her own body didn’t know what to do anymore.

  “I used to believe we were fighting for something pure,” Minka went on. “That if we just pushed hard enough, yelled loud enough, hit the right targets… things would change. That there was a line between right and wrong we could hold.”

  Leanna’s voice came gently. “There still is.”

  Minka shook her head slowly. “Not here. Not anymore. That line blurred the day we walked into this place.”

  Silence again. A heavy one.

  Leanna finally sat beside her, back to the wall, knees drawn up. “You think everything we did was a mistake?”

  Minka gave a half-laugh—quiet, bitter. “No. I think I made it one.”

  Leanna looked down at her hands. “You know, when you were gone, I kept telling myself you’d come back. That nothing could break you.” She paused. “But I think I was wrong. I think something did break. And you’re still here anyway.”

  Minka closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in the dry air. “What if I don’t know how to fix it?”

  “You don’t have to,” Leanna replied. “You just have to let it heal.”

  That caught Minka off guard. She turned to face her fully, a flicker of emotion behind her eyes—too faint to name, but unmistakably human.

  Leanna leaned her head back against the wall. “You’re still you, Minka. You still carry the fight. You’re just not sure why anymore.”

  Minka looked at her, really looked at her—and for the first time since they entered the complex, her expression softened. Not into a smile, but something more raw. Something real.

  “I don’t know who I’m doing this for anymore,” she admitted.

  Leanna didn’t hesitate. “Then do it for us. For what we still believe in. Until you can believe in it again.”

  A long beat passed between them.

  Minka nodded once—just a slight motion, as if afraid to commit to anything more.

  But it was enough.

  From across the room, Viola cracked a joke at Woods’ expense, but her voice was muted, half-hearted. She glanced toward the two of them briefly, her eyes sharp. She saw the shift, though she didn’t move to interrupt. Instead, she laid back and folded her arms behind her head.

  Let them have this, she thought. They needed it. They’d all need it before this was over.

  Woods finally signaled the break was over. He was terse, impatient. “Let’s go,” he barked. “We’ve got ground to cover.”