The warehouse was eerily quiet when Louis and Sona arrived. Shadows stretched long across the floor, and the space felt emptier than before—stripped of its defiance, its energy. Now it just felt hollow. Like a song cut short.

The door creaked shut behind them, echoing through the vast, hollow space.

Sona moved ahead in silence. Her steps were slow, deliberate—almost mechanical. Louis watched her carefully, noting the tightness in her shoulders, the way her eyes didn’t quite focus on anything. She wasn’t just tired. She was somewhere else entirely.

He followed her to the center of the warehouse, where she stopped and stared blankly ahead.

“Sona,” he said quietly. “Back there… I know it was close. But you don’t have to carry this alone.”

She didn’t look at him.

“We made it out,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

But Louis heard it—the way her words fell flat, hollow. It wasn’t relief. It was survival. And barely.

Before he could say anything more, the warehouse door groaned open again. Pops entered first, slow and heavy-footed. Isaac followed, typing something into his phone. Then came Tuck, cradling his laptop under one arm, his jaw tight. Arven and Isa trailed behind, both visibly shaken, eyes scanning the room like it might collapse.

Pops gave a grunt of acknowledgment. Isaac managed a tired smile in their direction, though it didn’t reach his eyes. Tuck didn’t even bother pretending. His steps were clipped, and his hand ran through his curls as he muttered under his breath.

“I still can’t believe it,” he said, more to himself than to the others. “All that prep. All those signals clean. We had every backdoor locked. And it still found us.”

Arven folded his arms. “Omega,” he muttered. “That thing wasn’t tracking signals. It was tracking us.”

Tuck’s hands balled into fists. “Yeah. I saw it on the rafter. It was watching the whole time. Right above us. That’s how it knew.”

Isa shook her head, visibly disturbed. “And no one saw it during the show…”

“We weren’t looking,” Tuck said, exhaling slowly. “That’s the point. It wanted to learn first. Now it knows us.”

The silence that followed was sharp. No one argued.

Sona finally turned toward them, her voice low but unwavering. “We can’t let it happen again.”

Isa nodded, though her eyes were still clouded with unease. “We won’t.”

Pops grunted in agreement.

Tuck stared at the ground, then pulled a cigarette from his pocket, rolling it between his fingers without lighting it. “I’m gonna dig,” he said. “Find out what I can about it. And see how we can make this plan of yours work.”

Pops clapped him on the shoulder. Isaac gave him a nod, and together the three of them exited through the side door, disappearing into the night.

The moment the door clicked shut behind them, the air felt heavier. Like even the walls were trying not to breathe.

Arven reached for his jacket. “I need a drink. Maybe two.”

Isa hesitated, then sighed. “I’ll come with. Can’t sit in this silence.”

As she passed Louis, she leaned in. “Be there for her, okay?”

Louis nodded.

When the door closed again, it was just the two of them.

Sona stood where she was for a moment longer, then slowly walked over to an old crate and sank down onto it. She sat like a shadow that hadn’t quite caught up with the body it belonged to. She didn’t curl up or cry. She didn’t scream or lash out. She just… sat. Like the weight of everything finally settled in her bones.

Louis stepped a little closer. Not too much. Just enough that she’d know he was near.

“Sona…” he said softly. “You don’t have to do this alone. You’ve got us. You’ve got me.”

She didn’t look at him.

Didn’t move.

Her gaze was fixed on the concrete floor ahead, somewhere between the cracks.

Then, without a word, her hand drifted to her chest—fingertips brushing the locket beneath her jacket. She didn’t open it. Just touched it, like a memory she wasn’t ready to face.

And she stayed that way.

Outside, in the distance, Omega perched silently on a tree just beyond the warehouse’s reach. Its red sensors pulsed softly in the dark. It was listening—not just hearing, but studying. Processing.

Inside, the humans had gone quiet.

And yet, Omega noted their body language, the pauses in speech, the silence where comfort should be. It didn’t understand—but it wanted to.

Why do they keep pushing forward?

Why do they stay, even when it hurts?

Questions it could not answer.

Not yet.

Inside, Louis finally sat down on the floor beside Sona—not close, but close enough. He didn’t speak again. He didn’t try to comfort her with words.

He simply waited.

And outside, Omega continued to watch.

And wonder.