ALEX POV
The drive north is quiet.
Not peaceful , tense, heavy, thick with everything neither of us can bring ourselves to say. The wipers slice through the mist clinging to the windshield, and the roads twist like old scars carved along the coastline.
Camila hasn't spoken since Solano disappeared into the trees. She sits curled in the passenger seat, wrapped in my jacket, staring out at the ocean as if it might offer answers.
Every few minutes, her fingers twitch like she's fighting a memory she can't see.
I grip the wheel harder.
"Talk to me," I say quietly.
She doesn't look at me. "I don't know what to say."
"Start with what you're feeling."
She exhales, long and uneven. "Scared. Confused. Angry. I don't know. It's all tangled."
I nod, even though she isn't looking. "You don't have to untangle it alone."
A beat of silence.
"You said my mother worked for the agency," she whispers. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"
"Because if you knew…" I pause, choosing my words. "If you knew the truth too early, it could've destroyed you."
"Solano said I'd come back to him." Her voice cracks slightly. "Alex… did something happen between us? When I was a kid?"
I tighten my jaw. "He tried to mold you into something you weren't. He saw your potential before you could even speak in full sentences."
She flinches.
I take one hand off the wheel and reach for hers. She hesitates before letting her fingers slip into mine.
Her grip is cold, but strong.
"What did my mother hide in me?" she whispers.
"Information," I say slowly. "Encrypted data. Something Solano needed for Ophidian. Something the agency wanted control over."
She looks down at our hands. "So I'm… what? A vault?"
"You're a person," I say immediately. "A survivor. And none of this makes you less human."
A hint of warmth enters her voice. "You always say the right thing."
"No," I murmur. "I just say what's true."
She watches me for a long moment , really watches , as if she's piecing me together the same way she's piecing herself back.
Then she turns toward the window again.
We ride in quiet hums and unspoken thoughts.
The coordinates lead us off-road toward a Cliffside dotted with tall dead grass and jagged black rocks. Waves slam below, the sound thunderous.
A fence barely holds together along the ridge, leading toward an old maintenance tunnel.
Camila steps out of the truck, clutching the jacket tighter around her shoulders.
"This place…" she whispers. "It feels familiar."
I stay close, scanning the horizon. No movement. No lights. But the hair on my neck rises anyway.
"Tread carefully," I say. "This ground hasn't been walked safely in years."
She walks toward the entrance slowly, as if guided by instinct rather than memory.
The metal door at the end of the tunnel is rusted, half broken , but there's a faint symbol burned into the steel. A serpent curled around a circle.
Ophidian.
She touches it with trembling fingers.
"My mother brought me here," she whispers. "I can… almost hear her voice."
"What's she saying?"
"Run," Camila breathes. "She kept telling me to run."
My chest tightens.
"We're not running now," I say softly. "We're facing it."
She turns to me then , eyes shining not with fear, but with something raw and growing. Trust. Reliance. A longing too deep to name yet.
She steps closer.
"Will you go in with me?"
"Always."
Her breath hitches , and for a moment, everything slows.
The ocean.
The wind.
The world.
She rises onto her toes , close enough that her lips brush my cheek, feather-light.
"Thank you," she whispers.
It's not a kiss.
It's not nothing.
It's a question waiting for an answer we're both scared to give.
Before I can say anything, the tunnel lights flicker.
Camila gasps.
"What, ?"
The rusted door shudders… then slides open with a metallic groan.
A gust of stale, cold air rushes out.
Inside, a long hallway glows dimly with backup emergency lights.
Camila grips my arm.
"Alex… someone turned the power on."
I lift my gun. "We're not alone."
She swallows hard, but her voice is steady. "Then let's go."
We step inside.
The metal door slams shut behind us.
The lights brighten , and a screen at the end of the hall flickers to life.
A woman's face appears.
Dark hair. Soft eyes. A smile that cuts straight through Camila.
She drops to her knees.
"Mama?"
Her mother stares out through the screen , not alive, but recorded.
And the message begins:
"If you're seeing this… they've come for you."