Nyra's POV
Walking hurt.
Every step sent a dull ache up my legs, a reminder of sedatives, electricity, and restraints that had dug too deep. My muscles felt like wet cloth wrung out too many times.
But Kian's hand was warm around mine.
Warm… and humming.
Starlight thrummed under his skin, barely contained, like a storm packed into a glass bottle. The light around him had dimmed compared to a few minutes ago, but it was still brighter than anything I'd ever seen in a human vessel this young.
Most princes took years to reach this point.
He'd done it in days.
Idiot.
"Tell me if you're about to fall over," he muttered as we limped down the hallway. "I'll try… something."
I snorted. "You can barely stand."
"I can stand just fine," he lied.
His steps were steady, but his breathing wasn't. Sweat darkened his collar. There was a tightness around his eyes that screamed of pain.
His ribs are damaged, I noted. Likely cracked. Nervous system stressed from repeated shocks. Overuse of Astra in an unstable stage.
He should be unconscious.
He wasn't.
Because of me.
Because he'd pushed this far to reach me.
Guilt burned, sharp and familiar.
We moved past the first door—empty, lights off, the observation window dark. The second door showed a room with equipment and an empty gurney.
The third held rows of cages.
I didn't slow down long enough to study what was inside.
They liked to collect rare things here.
We turned a corner.
A corridor stretched ahead, leading back toward the warehouse section. Alarms blared overhead, a mechanical voice repeating warnings about intruders, containment protocols, and non-compliance penalties.
"Kian," I said.
"Yeah?"
"Try not to rewrite the architecture unless absolutely necessary," I said. "We might still need the exits."
He huffed a tired laugh. "I'll do my best."
"You're not allowed to die here," I added.
"Gee, thanks for the permission," he muttered.
We reached a junction.
Left led toward the emergency stairwell.
Right led toward the central control room and heavy doors that could seal the floor.
"Left," Kian said, already shifting that way.
"Right," I said at the same time.
We stopped, looked at each other.
"Stairs mean outside," he said. "Outside is good."
"Control room means doors," I countered. "Doors between us and outside. If they seal them, your stairs become a trap."
He grimaced.
"I hate that you're right," he said.
"It's what they bred me for," I said lightly. "Being right about danger."
He gave me a look that said he didn't like that phrasing.
I looked right, listened.
Footsteps. Voices. Movement.
They were regrouping.
"We don't have time for a full takeover," I said. "We just need to open enough of their systems to get out."
Kian nodded once, jaw tightening.
"Okay," he said. "We go right."
We moved.
Each step felt like a countdown.
As we approached the bend, I tugged lightly on his hand.
"Wait."
We pressed against the wall. I eased forward just enough to peek around the corner.
Four guards. Two at the door to the control room, two checking weapons and talking in low, tense voices. A small rolling cart sat near them with more gear—stun rods, restraints, emergency kits.
No Dr. Havel in sight.
She'll be somewhere she can watch everything, I thought. Higher floor, safe room, observation nest.
I slid back.
"Four men," I murmured. "Two blocking the door we need. Stun rods. Guns. They're nervous."
Kian frowned.
"Can you take them?" he asked.
I adjusted my stance, testing my weight. My legs trembled, but they held.
"Yes," I said. "But not quietly."
He inhaled slowly.
"We're already not quiet," he said, jerking his chin at the flashing red lights. "Maybe we… divide it?"
"How?" I asked.
His fingers flexed in mine.
"I'll draw their fire," he said. "You get to the door."
"No," I said immediately.
He blinked. "That was fast."
"They want you," I said. "I'm bonus material. You step out there glowing like that, and they'll throw everything they have at you."
"Which is why," he said, "it makes sense for me to be the distraction."
"No," I repeated. "They'll aim for your heart."
A muscle ticked in his jaw.
"You think I care?" he asked quietly. "They strapped you to a chair."
His voice shook on that last word.
Something warm and painful twisted in my chest.
"I know," I said. "And that's exactly why I need you alive."
He opened his mouth—
Footsteps thundered behind us.
We turned.
Two more guards rounded the far corner of the hallway we'd just come from.
Very good. Now you have nowhere to go, Astra remarked dryly in my head.
"Down!" I snapped.
We dropped together as bullets shredded the air where our heads had been.
I hit the floor hard, shoulder screeching in protest.
Kian threw his free hand back on instinct.
The bullets froze midair, again—that still rattled me, seeing raw, unchanneled Astra hold physical objects so easily.
He flicked his fingers.
The bullets pinged harmlessly into the ceiling.
"Okay," he panted. "Getting… really tired of people shooting at us."
"You're not the only one," I muttered.
The two guards at the rear started to fall back, shouting something into their earpieces.
The four at the front snapped to alert as the echoes reached them.
We were about to be crushed between two lines of fire.
"Kian," I said softly.
"Yeah?"
"On three, break left," I said. "Don't think, just move. I'll go right."
"That's the opposite of what we just agreed," he said.
"Adapt," I said. "We do this my way or you die."
His eyes narrowed, weighing it.
"One," I said.
His fingers tightened around mine.
"Two."
"Nyra—"
"Three."
I yanked my hand out of his and launched myself left toward the rear guards.
He cursed and ran right toward the front.
For half a second, the soldiers hesitated, split, unsure which target mattered more.
Then training kicked in.
"Prioritize the boy!" someone yelled. "He's the asset!"
Exactly as calculated.
The two rear guards tried to adjust their aim toward Kian, swearing loud enough to give away their positions. I slid under their line of fire, swept one man's legs out, and jabbed my elbow into the tender spot at the side of his neck as he fell.
He hit the floor, out cold.
The second swung his rifle toward me, too slow.
I stepped in, twisted, and wrenched it from his hands, driving the butt into his jaw in one clean motion.
He dropped.
As I moved, the world tilted a little at the edges.
Too much strain. Not enough recovery. Still poisoned by sedatives.
But I kept my feet.
At the other end of the hall, all four front guards converged on Kian.
He raised his hand, light flaring—
A volley of rubberized rounds slammed into his chest, catching him by surprise.
He staggered, grunting.
Rubber bullets. Smart. Non-lethal, but they still carried enough force to bruise bone, crack ribs, knock breath out of a target.
He managed to divert the second volley midair, sending the projectiles ricocheting sideways into the walls.
But he was slower now.
His shoulders sagged. His glow flickered, straining.
His body can't output that much Astra this quickly, I thought, stomach clenching. Not without collapsing.
One of the guards lunged in with a stun rod.
The jolt made him arch, light flaring erratically.
I moved before he hit the floor.
The rifle I'd stolen barked once, twice—controlled shots, aimed at knees and shoulders, not hearts.
Two men went down, screaming.
The third started to turn toward me.
The fourth kept his focus on Kian, swinging the stun rod again.
"Not him," I snarled.
I was still too far.
But Kian heard me.
Even half-stunned, half-broken, he twisted, catching the rod with his bare hand.
It should've put him back on the ground.
Instead, the metal sizzled.
The stun rod shorted out, lights flickering and dying.
Kian crushed it like it was made of cardboard.
The guard had just enough time for his eyes to widen.
Kian's punch lifted him off his feet.
He hit the far wall and slid down, unconscious.
Silence—broken only by alarms and distant shouts—settled over our section of the hallway.
My ears rang.
My hands shook.
Kian swayed where he stood.
I dropped the empty rifle with a clatter and jogged (stumbled) toward him.
His white glow had dimmed back down to a softer blue. His pupils were blown wide, his breathing fast and shallow.
That much Astra in a body this untrained… it was a miracle his heart hadn't stopped.
Yet.
I grabbed his forearm.
"Hey," I said sharply. "Stay with me."
He blinked down at me slowly, like I was a long way away.
"You went left," he mumbled. "We said right."
"That's what you're mad about right now?" I demanded.
A weak smile tugged at his lips.
"I'm…" He swallowed. "I'm glad you're okay."
Something prickled behind my eyes.
I firmly ignored it.
"We're not okay yet," I said. "We still have to get out without you collapsing or blowing up the foundation."
He winced as he moved, a hand going to his side.
"I think one of my ribs hates me," he said.
"Only one?" I muttered. "That's generous."
I scanned the rear.
All six guards were down, some moaning, most unconscious. None dead.
Good.
I hadn't killed anyone.
Neither had he—yet.
They'd remember this as a supernatural disaster.
I'd remember it as the day Astra really woke.
"Come on," I said. "Control room. Now."
We reached the door the four front guards had been protecting.
I grabbed one of their dropped keycards and swiped it.
The lock beeped red.
Access denied.
I tried another.
Red.
Third.
Red.
I closed my eyes briefly.
Of course.
"Let me guess," Kian said weakly. "This is where you tell me 'It's your turn, Prince'."
"It is your facility," Astra murmured in my head, amused.
I frowned.
"Don't call it his facility," I snapped internally. "We're burning it when we leave."
Kian placed his palm on the panel.
"What if it shocks you?" I said.
He shrugged, then winced at the motion. "Too late for that."
Light seeped from his skin into the device, searching, probing. The machine whined, protested—
Then relented.
The indicator flickered from red to green.
The door hissed open.
Inside, the control room was a nest of screens, consoles, and blinking lights. Maps of the facility sprawled across the main monitor— multiple floors, exits, emergency tunnels.
One entire bank of displays showed camera feeds.
In the corner of one screen, Dr. Havel appeared, talking into a headset somewhere above us, face tight.
"…if we can isolate him from the girl, he's easier to handle," she was saying. "I don't care how many doors you have to seal, he does not leave this compound."
I stepped over to the console, spotted the master security controls, and slid into the chair.
"Can you read it?" Kian asked, hovering by the door in case more guards arrived.
"Yes," I said.
A lot of their interface was in their language.
More of it used visual codes my training had prepared me to interpret.
I danced my fingers over the controls, bringing up the door schematics.
"Our floor," I said. "Two main routes to the surface. One via the warehouse. One via a service tunnel that connects to the drainage system."
"Which is less likely to be full of guns?" he asked.
"Without our interference?" I said. "The tunnel. Now that we've done this…" I nodded at the chaos on the screen. "They'll flood both."
He cursed under his breath.
"Good news," I added.
"Please, I need some," he muttered.
"They didn't fully lock down yet," I said. "They were still deciding how to trap you without collapsing the building."
"So?"
"So we trap them instead."
I started shutting and opening doors.
Not random ones.
Calculating.
Locking certain security partitions behind groups of heat signatures. Opening others to create confusion. Cutting power to some cameras, leaving others on so they'd see things I wanted them to see.
On one feed, a group of guards tried to rush a stairwell—only for the door to slam in their faces and lock.
On another, emergency shutters dropped unexpectedly, blocking a side passage.
On a third, the hallway we'd just fought in appeared completely empty.
Except for the scorched walls and crumpled guards.
"That should slow them down," I said.
I brought up the external feeds.
Concrete yard. Back fence. Rusted gate. No obvious vehicles right at the exit—but further out, I could see black vans repositioning.
"They're re-forming a perimeter outside," I muttered. "We'll still have to break through something to fully escape."
"I can… try to handle that," Kian said, voice faint.
I looked at him.
Really looked.
Under the starlight, his face was pale. Dark circles shadowed his eyes. Lines of strain bracketed his mouth. His hands shook when he wasn't paying attention.
He was seconds away from collapsing.
If he pushed again the way he had in the hallway, his heart might not recover.
You could let him fall, Astra whispered. Start over with a new vessel. It would cost centuries, but what is time to us?
I bared my teeth—inside, where it could hear.
"Shut up," I thought. "You chose him. I was shaped for him. You don't get to discard him now because he bleeds."
Kian blinked, noticing my expression.
"What?" he asked.
"Nothing," I lied.
I pulled up a schematic of the service tunnels.
"We go this way," I decided. "Service access E-07. It leads to a drainage culvert outside the main perimeter. They'll expect us to hit the main exits—they'll be late to reposition here."
"Sounds great," he said. "Love a nice damp sewer."
"You'll complain and you'll live," I said. "That's the goal."
I hit a final sequence of commands.
All doors on our route: unlocked.
All doors behind us: locked.
Every other path: turned into a maze.
The system protested briefly, then obeyed.
Somewhere above, angry shouting increased.
"And as a bonus," I added, fingers flying one last time, "we're wiping this."
"What?"
"Non-essential data," I said. "Notes on your episodes. Their preliminary analysis of your blood. Anything they recorded from when Astra reacted strongly."
You can't erase me, Astra said lazily.
"No," I thought back. "But I can make it harder for them to study you. For now, that's enough."
I hit EXECUTE.
Several progress bars filled.
"Done," I said.
Kian stared at me.
"You just hacked a blacksite lab while half-conscious," he said. "Remind me never to annoy you."
"Too late," I said. "Come on. We're almost free."
He stepped closer.
For a second, his hand hovered near my shoulder, like he wanted to steady me and wasn't sure he had the right.
I rolled my eyes and grabbed his arm myself, draping it over my shoulders.
"You lean on me," I said. "I'll pretend you're not heavy."
He huffed a laugh.
"You're the one who got tased twice," he said.
"Three times," I corrected. "They were very persistent."
His lips twitched.
Then he winced as we started moving.
We left the control room.
The alarms screamed.
The facility shifted around us, doors sliding shut behind like a beast snapping its jaws on empty air.
Ahead, somewhere beyond the concrete, the sky waited.
I hadn't seen it in days.
And for the first time in my life, I wasn't just walking toward my duty.
I was walking toward a future that someone else shared.
Not just a weapon.
Not just a guard.
Not just a girl forged to die for a prince who didn't know her name.
"Hey, Nyra," Kian said quietly as we limped toward the service tunnel entrance.
"Mm?"
"When we get out of here," he said, "you're going to explain everything, right? Astra. You. Me. All of it."
I exhaled.
"Yes," I said. "I'll tell you what they made you forget."
He stiffened slightly.
"Forget?" he echoed. "What do you mean, forget?"
I smiled faintly.
"Later, idiot prince," I said. "First, we survive."