Lisa's boots clicked against the steel floor of the transport corridor. The hum of Black Force generators echoed like distant thunder. She hated this part—the quiet before missions. Everyone shifted nervously, trying to seem composed. She wasn't nervous. Not exactly. But her teeth ached from the tension in her jaw.
"Sector B, minor rift bloom," the comm crackled. "No civilians in immediate danger. Sweep and clear."
Minor. She wanted to laugh. GRIMM had a funny way of labeling things. "Minor" usually meant blood on the walls.
She glanced at Lane, crouched by the door hatch, adjusting her gauntlets. The youngest Demonio always looked smaller than she was. Silent, alert, waiting. Lisa envied that sometimes.
"Don't dawdle," she muttered, more to herself than anyone else.
The stairwell reeked of old concrete and decay. Black veins ran along the walls, faint but pulsing. Lisa touched one. No more than curiosity—but it reminded her why they weren't in a normal building anymore.
"Stay sharp," Lane said softly, eyes scanning every corner.
Lisa exhaled. "I always am."
The first Sol appeared suddenly. Thin, elongated, claws scraping the metal stairs. It hissed, black blood gleaming in the dim light.
Lisa moved. Quick, precise, almost casual—but deadly. Her scythe tore through the creature's chest, and the Sol collapsed, ichor pooling beneath it.
Lane followed, Black Water crawling along her arms, dissolving what remained.
Silence fell. The quiet was heavier than the screams.
Lisa looked at her sister. "You okay?"
Lane's jaw was tight. "I'm fine."
Lisa didn't press. Something about the way Lane said it made her uneasy. Not fear, not exhaustion—something else. Awareness. Watching. Waiting.
They moved through the wreckage, careful. GRIMM had trained them to act in tandem, but Lisa's mind wandered.
Isaac.
He wasn't here. He hadn't been assigned to this rift. And yet… she felt him, in the spaces between her thoughts. Steady. Powerful. Calm.
She shook her head. Stop it.
But she couldn't.
They cleared the last floor, neutralized the minor Sols, and checked for civilians. None. Nothing but debris and the stale scent of blood and decay.
Lisa exhaled and leaned against a wall. "Piece of cake."
Lane didn't move. She just stared at the far corner, jaw tight.
"Lane?"
She shook her head. "Nothing."
Lisa didn't believe her.
They returned to the transport, quiet. Not one word about Isaac. Not needed. He wasn't here to overshadow them, yet his absence pressed against her chest like a weight. She hated it. Hated that she worried about him the way she did. Hated that no one else could see what she felt.
Later, in her quarters, Lisa stared at the city below. Rift towers flickered red and orange in the distance. Somewhere out there, Isaac moved, somewhere else, the world was quiet.
She clenched her fists.
Not angry. Not fearful. Alert.
Always alert.
Shadows stretched across her walls, long and thin. And for the first time in weeks, she allowed herself a single thought:
For now, it's quiet. Too quiet.
Lisa exhaled. Tightened her fists again.
She wasn't sure if she wanted the quiet to last—or if she was just waiting for the next rift to tear through their world.
Either way, there was no turning back.