The night did not pass quietly.
It never did anymore.
Thomas remained awake long after the others settled into uneasy rest. The temporary hideout—a fractured administrative building with reinforced stairwells—offered protection, but little comfort. Wind whistled through broken windows. Somewhere in the distance, metal scraped against stone, carried by the city's restless breath.
He had made himself visible.
And now the world was answering.
Mira stood near the highest window, scanning the horizon through optics. Her posture was rigid, alert, a soldier's discipline carved into muscle memory. She hadn't slept. Thomas doubted she intended to.
Elisa sat cross-legged against a wall, cleaning her weapon with methodical precision. Her movements were calm, deliberate, almost serene. That calm unsettled him more than tension ever could.
Rea remained closest.
Not touching—but close enough that he felt her presence like heat. She leaned against a support pillar, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the door as if daring the world to test her resolve again.
No one spoke.
The silence broke shortly after midnight.
A low electronic pulse rippled through the building—brief, contained, intentional.
Elisa's head snapped up instantly. "Signal," she said. "Directional."
Mira lowered her optics. "Drone?"
"No," Elisa replied. "Encrypted broadcast. Short range."
Thomas felt a chill creep up his spine. "They found us."
"Yes," Elisa said. "But they're not attacking."
Mira frowned. "Explain."
"They're talking."
Another pulse followed—longer this time. A projection flickered against the far wall, stabilizing into a three-dimensional image.
A woman appeared.
She was tall, composed, dressed in a tailored uniform that spoke of hierarchy and control. Her hair was bound tightly, her expression measured, professional. She did not smile.
"Thomas," she said calmly, her voice amplified yet intimate. "You have our attention."
Rea moved instantly, placing herself between Thomas and the projection. "Turn it off."
Thomas raised a hand. "Wait."
Mira hesitated, then nodded slightly.
The woman continued. "My name is Director Hale. I represent the Continuity Authority."
Elisa's eyes narrowed. "That explains the discipline."
Director Hale inclined her head slightly, as if acknowledging the comment. "You are currently in possession of restricted biological and research assets," she said. "More importantly, you yourself are classified as a Tier-One Viable Male."
Thomas felt every gaze in the room shift to him.
"You have survived longer than projected," Hale continued. "You have demonstrated adaptability, resilience, and leadership potential."
Rea's jaw clenched. "He's not your asset."
Hale's gaze flicked briefly toward Rea, assessing her like a variable. "Everyone is an asset," she replied calmly. "The difference is whether one understands their value."
Thomas stepped forward slightly. "What do you want?"
Hale smiled then—but it was not warmth. It was strategy.
"Cooperation," she said. "Voluntary, if possible."
"And if not?" Mira asked coldly.
"Then escalation," Hale replied without hesitation.
The honesty was almost refreshing.
"We offer protection," Hale continued. "Resources. Infrastructure. Purpose. In exchange, you join our program."
Thomas swallowed. "Your breeding program."
"Yes," Hale said plainly. "Among other responsibilities."
Rea's voice shook with restrained fury. "You'll never touch him."
Hale regarded her coolly. "That is not your decision."
The words struck like a blade.
Thomas felt something harden inside him—not fear, not anger, but resolve.
"No," he said firmly. "It is my decision."
Silence followed.
Hale studied him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Good. That means you're thinking."
She gestured, and the projection shifted—displaying satellite imagery, troop movements, supply lines.
"You are already at the center of a growing conflict," Hale continued. "Independent factions will hunt you. Desperate groups will attempt capture. You will never be safe—not truly."
Elisa leaned forward slightly, interest sharpening. "And your solution?"
"Structure," Hale replied. "Order. A future where your existence has meaning beyond survival."
Thomas absorbed that quietly.
"And what about them?" he asked, gesturing toward Mira, Elisa, and Rea.
Hale paused. "They are… negotiable."
That was enough.
Rea moved.
She stepped directly in front of the projection, her voice low, lethal. "You will not separate us."
Hale's gaze hardened. "Emotional attachments complicate efficiency."
"They define it," Thomas countered.
The director considered that, then sighed softly. "You have forty-eight hours," she said. "After that, we will proceed regardless."
The projection dissolved.
Silence crashed back into the room.
Rea turned on Thomas instantly. "You can't even consider this."
"I am considering everything," he replied calmly.
"That's insanity," she snapped. "They'll cage you. Use you."
"And if I refuse," Thomas said, "they'll hunt us until one of us dies."
Elisa interjected quietly. "She's not wrong. But neither are you."
Mira crossed her arms. "This changes the timeline."
Rea looked between them, disbelief flickering across her face. "You're all actually discussing this?"
"We're assessing reality," Elisa replied. "Not indulging emotion."
Rea rounded on her. "You think this is emotion?"
"I think," Elisa said evenly, "that attachment clouds judgment."
That was the breaking point.
Rea turned back to Thomas, eyes blazing. "If you go with them—"
"I didn't say I would," Thomas said firmly.
"But you're thinking about it," she shot back.
"Yes," he admitted. "Because pretending this isn't happening won't stop it."
Rea's breath hitched. For the first time, fear bled openly into her expression.
"No," she whispered. "I won't lose you to them."
Thomas stepped closer, lowering his voice. "You won't."
"How can you be sure?" she demanded.
He met her gaze steadily. "Because I won't go alone."
The room froze.
Mira's eyes widened slightly.
Elisa went very still.
Rea stared at him, stunned. "What?"
"If I engage," Thomas continued, "it's on my terms. With leverage. With contingencies."
"That's suicide," Rea said.
"No," Elisa said slowly. "That's infiltration."
Thomas nodded. "Exactly."
Mira considered this in silence. Then she spoke. "Someone would have to go with you."
Rea didn't hesitate. "I will."
"No," Elisa said immediately. "You're too emotionally compromised."
Rea rounded on her. "And you're not?"
Elisa held her gaze. "I'm controlled."
Thomas looked between them. "I need someone who can think clearly under pressure."
Rea's expression shattered.
Then she did something none of them expected.
"I'll stay," she said quietly.
The words stunned the room.
"What?" Thomas asked.
Rea forced herself to meet his eyes, pain and resolve warring beneath the surface. "If I go with you, I'll kill someone—or get us both killed."
She inhaled shakily. "You need someone who won't hesitate to walk away if necessary."
Elisa's eyes flicked toward her, something like respect surfacing.
Rea continued, voice low. "But I won't abandon you either."
Mira frowned. "Explain."
"I'll be the anchor," Rea said. "The contingency. If they betray you… if you disappear…"
She clenched her fists. "I will burn everything to get you back."
Silence followed.
Thomas felt the weight of that promise settle heavily on his chest.
"That's not easy," he said softly.
Rea shook her head. "None of this is."
Elisa stepped forward. "Then it's decided."
Mira nodded once. "We prepare."
Thomas looked at Rea, searching her face. "Are you sure?"
She didn't smile.
"No," she said. "But I trust you."
That trust hurt more than fear ever could.
As plans began to take shape—routes, contingencies, false signals—Thomas understood the magnitude of what had just happened.
Rea had chosen restraint over possession.
An irreversible choice.
And that sacrifice bound them more tightly than any claim ever could.
The clock was ticking.
And when the next forty-eight hours ended, the world would no longer be negotiating.