Roselyn's lungs burned.
Each breath came out jagged, scraping her ribs like fire as she sprinted down the dim lower-deck corridor. The sirens above continued to howl, shaking the rusted pipes overhead. Her vision wavered from exhaustion and whatever drug still lingered in her bloodstream.
But she didn't slow down.
Footsteps thundered behind her—heavy, armored, determined. Not the chaotic footsteps of fleeing criminals. These were precise, controlled.
Not Rambo's men.
Someone else was on the ship.
Roselyn didn't know if that made things better or worse.
Her bare heel slipped, hitting a wet patch on the floor. She slammed into the wall with a soft cry, biting back the scream rising in her throat. Her fingers grasped the cold steel railing as she forced herself upright.
Keep moving. Keep moving. Keep—
A burst of gunfire rattled the metal around her.
Roselyn jolted and stumbled forward, zig-zagging through the narrow hallways. Her heart pounded against her ribs, begging her to rest, to stop, to hide—but she had learned the hard way that hiding only prolonged the torture.
She'd been locked in an isolation lab for weeks.Always cold.Always watched.Always hurting.
She wasn't going back.
Not alive.
"Subject One is on the lower deck! She's fleeing east!" a voice crackled through a distant radio.
Roselyn froze.
They were talking about her.
Subject One.Her name replaced by a label.Her identity erased in favor of whatever monster they were trying to turn her into.
Her fingers brushed the metal collar around her neck—the one they used to monitor her vitals and inject God-knew-what into her bloodstream. She'd tried to pry it off days ago, and the scar along her collarbone still burned at the memory.
She pushed forward.
She turned a corner—
And ran straight into a figure.
A tall, armored silhouette.
"Stop!" the man commanded.
Roselyn reacted before he could finish. She grabbed a fallen metal pipe beside the stairs and swung it with all the strength her trembling body could muster.
The man blocked it easily with his forearm.
She tried again—swinging, thrashing, fighting like an animal trapped in a cage. A low desperate sound escaped her throat as she struggled. She didn't want to die, but she refused to be taken back.
Her arms shook violently. Her grip weakened.
The man didn't strike back.
Instead, he caught the pipe on her third swing, twisted it away, and dropped it behind him. His movements were controlled—firm but gentle, as if he knew she would break if handled too roughly.
"Roselyn Young?" he said.
Her breath hitched.
Not "Subject One."Not "the key."Not "the experiment."
Her name.
Roselyn shook her head violently, stepping back."No—don't—please, don't touch me—"
"I'm not one of them," the man said, raising both hands slowly. "My team is here to take you out."
She didn't believe him.
She had believed once—when she saw the man who saved her weeks ago, the one she thought was an angel. He took her out of the darkness only to throw her into a deeper one.
Never again.
Tears welled up, blurring her sight. She backed up until her shoulder hit a pipe behind her, trapped between metal and this stranger.
"I know what they did to you," he said, softer now. "I've seen the rooms. The cells. The bodies."
Her knees wobbled.
He took one step forward.
"Roselyn," he repeated, voice steady. "My name is Rowan. I'm here to get you home."
Home.The word cut deeper than any scalpel Rambo's doctors ever held.
Home was a memory she no longer trusted.
Home was safety she didn't believe in.
Home was impossible.
Roselyn shook her head, hugging her arms to her chest as if to keep her ribs from collapsing inward. "They'll find me… they always find me…"
"Not if I get you out first," Rowan said. "You have my word."
She didn't know this man.She couldn't read his eyes through the dark helmet visor.She had no proof he wasn't lying.
But his voice…His voice didn't sound like Rambo's soldiers.It didn't have that cruel thrill of power.
Instead, it held something she hadn't heard directed at her in a long time:
Humanity.
A sudden explosion rocked the ship, knocking them both off balance. A fireball erupted from the corridor behind Rowan, flames licking the ceiling as smoke billowed toward them.
Rowan immediately grabbed her wrist, but not harshly.
"We're running out of time," he warned. "Either you come with me, or you stay here and burn."
Roselyn's breath stuttered.
Another scream sounded in the distance—one of Rambo's subjects, one of the doctors, she couldn't tell.
Rowan tugged gently."Trust me enough to take one step."
Roselyn stared at his outstretched hand.
And for the first time in weeks…
She wanted to believe.
Her fingers trembled as she reached out—
Then Rambo's voice thundered through the ship's speakers:
"BRING ROSELYN TO ME. ALIVE."
Her blood froze.
Rowan stiffened. "We need to go. Now."
Roselyn's hand jerked instinctively toward him.
She didn't have the strength to trust…But she also didn't have the strength to survive alone.
"Okay," she whispered, barely audible. "O-okay…"
Rowan wasted no time. He pulled her behind him, shielding her with his body as they sprinted toward the emergency stairwell. Bullets ricocheted off the walls behind them. Smoke stung her eyes. Her legs screamed in protest with every step.
But she followed.
For the first time since she'd been taken…
She wasn't running alone.