The last of the gear was tossed into the van, the back doors slamming shut as Pops climbed into the driver’s seat. The others piled in—Isaac up front, Tuck crammed between Arven and Isa in the back with his laptop already balanced on his knees. Sirens echoed faintly in the distance, weaving through the city like hunting dogs. No one spoke for a beat.

“Any word from the other crews?” Arven asked.

Isaac tapped at his phone, scanning updates. “Most of Amp Rush scattered clean. The Runners scattered drawing attention, just like we planned. The other Roadies have gotten most of the Rockers out, but the cops are nearing the site.”

Pops grunted and slammed the van into gear, launching them into the crumbling outskirts.

Tuck muttered something under his breath, eyes darting over flickering monitors. He flipped through signal channels, surveillance logs, broadcast relays—his brows furrowing deeper with every passing second.

“Something’s off,” he hissed. “Every signal was encrypted. No leaks, no taps, not even a bounceback ping—so how the hell did they show up that fast?”

Isa leaned over. “You think it wasn’t the broadcast?”

“No way,” Tuck said. “I’ve run ops under way worse heat. This was... surgical.”

He froze.

A grainy video feed from the venue flashed across his screen. He sharpened it. Above the stage rafters, just barely visible in the dark—perched like a gargoyle—was something not human. A mechanical bird, eyes glowing crimson.

Isaac leaned closer, his voice dropping. “What is that... thing?”

Tuck’s blood ran cold. “Omega.”

The van went silent.

Tuck’s fingers flew over his keyboard, switching camera feeds from the venue to an exterior camera viewing the streets. He tracked the sleek birdlike machine as it swooped low, narrowing in on a motorcycle—Sona’s. His eyes widened. “No, no, no—”

He reached for his comms, then stopped. Instead, he grabbed his phone, shoved a hand through his curls, and dialed. “C’mon, pick up...”

The cold wind cut against Sona’s face as the motorcycle tore through the broken city fringe, the engine snarling beneath them like a beast unchained. Streetlights had long since died out here—replaced by half-buried lamp posts, shattered glass, and the echo of things that used to be.

Louis held on tightly, arms wrapped around her waist. He could feel her heartbeat—fast, locked-in. She wasn’t just focused. She was furious. Whatever fire was burning in her now, it kept the throttle wide open.

Then her phone buzzed in her pocket.

One hand still on the handlebars, she dug into her jacket, slipped out a wireless earbud, and popped it in with a practiced flick.

“What is it, Tuck?”

“You’re being followed,” came his voice, harsh and low. “That thing on your six? It’s Omega.”

Her jaw clenched.

She flicked a glance at the rearview mirror. Empty.

And then—there it was. Red eyes in the dark, glinting like twin embers.

“Oh, hell,” she muttered.

Without a second thought, she dropped a gear and twisted the throttle harder. The bike surged forward, tires screaming as they ripped through a narrow service road flanked by leaning fences and crumbling billboards. Louis ducked as they swerved under a half-collapsed freeway, sparks flying as her boots skimmed the ground.

“How do we lose it?” she barked, every nerve in her body alive.

“You don’t,” Tuck replied grimly. “Not unless you break line-of-sight. You’ve gotta go dark. Now.”

“I’ll try to jam it,” he added, voice strained. “But it learns fast. If it locks onto your rhythm, it won’t matter.”

“Copy.” She ended the call, lips set in a line.

Up ahead, the skyline gave way to rust and ruin—an abandoned industrial park, its skeleton jutting against the night sky like broken teeth. Towers of iron. Hollow factories. Stacked shipping containers eaten by time.

Perfect.

Sona yanked the handlebars and threw the bike into a sharp drift, skidding sideways before launching down a narrow alley riddled with debris. It was a move ripped straight from Akira, and Louis felt his stomach lurch as the rear wheel screamed against the asphalt.

Omega followed high above, weaving through exposed scaffolding with surgical precision—silent, ghostlike. Its sensors tracked motion, temperature, pulses of heat and adrenaline.

The game was on.

Sona swerved hard between half-toppled scaffolds, weaving through shadows and rusted machinery. A loose panel slammed against a wall as they passed. The world narrowed into metal and noise, their path lit only by the flicker of the bike’s headlamp.

She didn’t stop.

Didn’t flinch.

She took another blind turn, ducking low to avoid a hanging chain, then punched through a collapsing gate. They burst into a sunken loading bay surrounded by brick and steel.

Sona braked hard—another drift—and killed the engine.

Silence.

The only sound was their panting breaths and the ticking of the cooling motor.

They hid behind a rusted forklift, half-buried in rubble. Dust swirled around them. Louis could still hear the faint thrum of the drone’s wings above—just once, then gone.

Neither of them moved.

Louis slowly looked around at the hole-ridden ceiling above them. “You okay?”

Sona didn’t answer.

She sat motionless, eyes fixed on the jagged hole in the roof above. A narrow shaft of moonlight poured through, casting her face in silver—soft, ethereal, and unbearably distant. Her hand drifted to the spot beneath her jacket where the gold heart-shaped locket lay hidden; her fingers brushed the metal, then curled into a fist and fell away.

Something in her expression had changed. Not fear. Not relief.

Just... weight.

Louis stayed still, watching her in the quiet.

He wanted to say something.

But nothing felt right.

Outside, Omega circled above the zone. Its sensors scanned for thermal signatures, radio frequencies, motion. But the industrial park was too dense, too broken. It perched silently on a twisted I-beam jutting from a collapsed smokestack.

And waited.

Inside the building, Sona finally turned toward Louis, expression unreadable. Her voice, when it came, was quiet—but steady.

“We made it out. That’s something.”

Louis nodded, still catching his breath.

Omega’s red eyes flickered in the dark.

And in that moment, its system faltered—not in function, but in reason.

What it saw in her... in them... didn’t compute.

And so it stayed. Watching. Learning.

A question, quiet but unshakable, echoed in its core: Why?