MILES POV
"I'm going to kill them all."
Something twisted at the corner of my lips.
A metallic click cut through the silence.
The smell hit me next—sharp and sour. Sweat, urine, damp concrete.
"What did you say, Walker?"
My eyes snapped open.
A single bulb buzzed overhead, flickering just enough to make shadows crawl along the walls. Four rifles pointed straight at my chest. The men behind them stood rigid… too rigid.
My wrists shifted, chains answered.
The sound echoed louder than it should have.
Cold metal bit into my skin.
"Say it again!" the one in the red cap barked. His finger hovered too tight on the trigger. A bead of sweat slipped past his brow, down to his jaw.
No one blinked.
But their chests rose too fast, too shallow.
My gaze dragged across the room—bare concrete, no windows, steel beneath me. A cell.
"What… happened?"
One of them jerked like I'd lunged at him.
"Don't play with us," Red Cap snapped, though his voice cracked halfway through. "We heard you."
A second soldier shifted his stance, boot scraping against the floor. "You said you'd kill us."
The words hung there. I searched my memory, nothing but fragments. Noise. Screams. Darkness.
"Let's finish it," another muttered, quieter this time. Not brave—just eager to get it over with.
The red cap soldier didn't answer immediately.His eyes locked onto mine.For a second, neither of us moved. Then his grip tightened.
Around us, safeties clicked off—one after the other.
"Stand down."
The voice didn't rise, didn't strain—yet it cut through the room like a blade.
The door creaked open slowly, metal dragging against metal. Boots followed. Measured. Certain.
The soldiers didn't lower their weapons.
Neither did they breathe right.
She stepped into the light.
Tessa.
For a second, she just stood there. Her gaze moved—not rushed, not curious—just… deliberate. It brushed over me briefly, pausing long enough to register, before shifting to the men holding rifles like lifelines.
"What do you think you're doing?"
No one answered.
The man in the red cap exhaled sharply through his nose and stepped forward, placing himself slightly ahead of the others. His boots scraped faintly against the concrete floor.
"Doing what should've been done already," he said. His voice carried a bite, but there was something underneath it—something thinner. "He shouldn't be breathing."
The chains at my wrists shifted as I adjusted my weight. The sound echoed too loudly in the tight space.
Four rifles tilted, just a fraction but still aimed.Still ready. Tessa didn't look at me this time.
"Your orders were to monitor him," she said, her tone flat. "If he wakes up, you report it."
She took a step closer. Not aggressive. Not cautious either. Just enough to make the distance uncomfortable.
"You don't decide what happens next."
The red cap soldier's jaw flexed. His fingers tightened around the grip of his weapon until the knuckles lost color.
"And since when," he said, "do we start hesitating with things like that?"
His chin jerked in my direction. The others shifted slightly behind him—not retreating, but not entirely steady either.
I watched them, really watched them.
The way their shoulders stayed too high.
The way their eyes flicked, quick and restless.
The way none of them blinked long enough to miss a movement.
Not anger… fear.
Tessa stepped forward again.
"Stand down… Colonel."
The title landed differently. He didn't respond immediately.For a moment, the room held its breath.
His gaze slid to her, sharp and heavy. Then it moved back to me—slower this time, more deliberate. Like he was trying to decide something he couldn't quite finish.
His grip tightened once more.
Then he turned. Just like that.
He brushed past her shoulder, the tension in his frame not easing even as he reached the door. The other soldiers hesitated only a second before following.
"Outside," Tessa said.
One of them lingered. "But the…"
"Now."
That was enough.
Bootsteps retreated. The door slammed shut behind them, the sound ringing through the cell before fading into a dull hum.
Silence settled in.
Thick. Heavy.
She didn't speak right away. Didn't move either.
Just stood there, as if giving the quiet time to stretch.
"What do you remember?"
Her voice was lower now. Not softer. Just… closer to something real.
I swallowed, the dryness in my throat catching for a second before I forced words through it.
"Gunfire," I said slowly. The images came in pieces, jagged and incomplete. "Smoke… people shouting…"
My brows pulled together.
"You."
That part was clear. Too clear.
My hand moved before I could stop it, fingers gripping the edge of my shirt and pulling it up. My eyes dropped to my ribs.
Skin– unbroken. I froze, that wasn't right.
I pressed harder, like I could force the memory back into place. My fingers traced along where it should've been—where something should've torn through.
Nothing.
No scar. No mark. No sign anything had ever happened.
My breath hitched, shallow and uneven.
"That's not…" I muttered, more to myself than to her.
I let the fabric fall slowly, my hand lingering there like it didn't trust what it had just seen.
She was watching me. Not surprised, nor confused. Just… watching.
"You don't remember," she said.
I looked up at her.
"Remember what?" She stepped closer.
The light caught her face this time, softening nothing, revealing nothing either. Her expression stayed controlled, but her eyes—there was something behind them now. Something measured.
"People out there," she said, "are waiting for a reason." A pause.
"Any reason." My stomach tightened.
"To do what?"
She held my gaze.
"You've seen how they look at you."
Images flickered.The flinch. The distance.
The silence that followed wherever I stood.
My pulse started to pick up again, heavier this time.
"So what," I said, my voice lower now, tighter. "I just sit here and wait for them to decide?"
"Not if you don't want to."
That made me still.
She leaned in slightly—not enough to close the space, just enough to make it feel smaller.
"There are people who won't shoot first," she said.
A beat.
"They'll listen."
Her hand moved behind her back and revealed a key. The key slid into the cuffs.
A click.Then another.
The pressure around my wrists loosened, the metal falling away with a dull sound against the bed.
I didn't move right away, didn't trust it.
Freedom felt… unfamiliar.
Wrong, even. I looked up at her, our eyes met.
For a moment, neither of us said anything.
Then…
"So you're the one."
The voice came from the dark. I turned sharply.
A figure peeled away from the wall, shadows slipping off him as he stepped forward. His hair fell slightly over his eyes, but it didn't hide the way he was looking at me… no sign of shock or fear.
Another man followed, slower, more composed.
"Miles Walker," he said. A faint smile touched his lips.
"Finally."