The night air outside the hideout was damp, heavy with the smell of wet stone and rusting metal. Emily leaned against the doorway for a moment before stepping out, drawing in a long, steadying breath. The rain had stopped, but every surface glistened under the pale light of the flickering streetlamps, casting distorted reflections that made the world feel unsteady. She could still hear Claire's voice in her head, low and urgent, replaying the words that had lodged themselves like splinters: Someone we trusted… watching us all along.
It had been hours since Claire handed her that folded scrap of coded paper. Hours since the tiny crack in the rebellion's foundation widened into something she could no longer ignore. Emily had tried to keep her composure, to act as if nothing had changed, but now — standing alone in the chill — she felt the truth pressing on her ribs like a physical weight.
She walked along the narrow alley, the soles of her boots splashing through shallow puddles. Every step echoed in the quiet, and with each one, her mind replayed a different memory of those in her circle. Daniel's unwavering stare when he promised to guard the supplies. Claire's blunt honesty. The young recruits who still looked at her as if she had all the answers. And James… No matter how much she wanted to bury his face in the depths of her mind, it always surfaced — along with the sting of his betrayal.
Inside the safehouse, tension was a tangible thing. People avoided eye contact. Conversations broke off when she entered. She could see the fatigue in their movements, the wariness in their voices. The rebellion had always been fueled by desperation, but now it was shadowed by paranoia.
Daniel approached her as she returned. "We've fortified the eastern perimeter. No sign of Kane's scouts, but…" He hesitated, scanning her face. "You look like you've been somewhere far away."
"I was," Emily said simply. She didn't elaborate. If Daniel was innocent, he didn't need to know the details yet. If he wasn't… she couldn't tip her hand.
She retreated to the small room she used as both an office and sleeping quarters. The desk was cluttered with maps, faded photographs, and scraps of paper covered in hurried notes. A single lamp cast a weak yellow glow across it all, leaving the corners of the room shrouded in shadow.
Emily unfolded the coded message again. The cipher was simple — almost insultingly so — as if the sender had grown complacent or believed they were untouchable. The decoded version was chilling in its precision:Eastern hub. Tonight. Destroy comm relays. Leave no survivors.
Her eyes lingered on the phrase Leave no survivors. This wasn't sabotage. It was extermination.
There was a knock on her door — sharp, deliberate. Claire stepped in without waiting for permission. "We've got movement on the west side," she said. "Two of ours spotted near the old tram depot. One of them… was Lukas."
Emily frowned. Lukas had been with them since the second month of the rebellion. Quiet, unremarkable, but dependable. She had never once questioned his loyalty. "Alone?"
"No. With someone we didn't recognize. Tall, dark coat, face covered." Claire's tone made it clear what she suspected.
Emily's mind raced. If Lukas was the leak, catching him in the act could expose everything. But if they confronted him too soon, they risked alerting the real traitor — if it wasn't him.
"We tail him," Emily decided. "Quietly. No confrontation until we're sure."
The rain started again as they made their way to the depot, the rhythmic patter masking their footsteps. The streets were nearly deserted, save for the occasional figure hurrying under umbrellas or ducking into dimly lit doorways. The tram depot loomed ahead, its once-grand facade now scarred by neglect and war.
Through a cracked window, Emily spotted Lukas and the stranger. They were hunched over a small table in the corner, a flickering oil lamp casting jittery shadows on their faces. Lukas's eyes darted nervously, while the stranger remained unnervingly still, his gloved hands resting on the table.
Emily strained to hear, catching fragments of their conversation. "…coordinates… secure… Kane won't wait…"
Claire's jaw tightened. "That's enough for me," she whispered.
"Not yet," Emily murmured. She pulled back, heart pounding. There was no mistaking it now — Lukas was feeding Kane their plans. The coded message, the movements, the timing… it all aligned.
But something gnawed at her. Lukas wasn't ambitious. He wasn't reckless. If he was working for Kane, it wasn't for power. Which meant… coercion.
The thought made her stomach twist.
When Lukas finally left the depot, they followed him at a distance through the rain-slick streets. He didn't head toward any of the safehouses. Instead, he wound his way deeper into the industrial district, stopping at a warehouse Emily recognized — one that had been abandoned for years.
She and Claire exchanged a look. They slipped closer, pressing themselves against the rusted wall, and peered through a gap in the metal.
Inside, Lukas was kneeling before a woman bound to a chair. Her hair was matted, her face bruised, but her eyes — her eyes were full of defiance. Emily's breath caught. She knew that face.
"Mother," Lukas whispered, his voice breaking.
Emily's chest tightened. The pieces fell into place. Kane had her. And Lukas… Lukas was doing whatever it took to keep her alive.
Claire's hand hovered near her weapon. "We take him now."
Emily grabbed her wrist. "No. Not here. Not like this."
Because now the rebellion's betrayal wasn't just a matter of treason. It was a matter of survival — of love, twisted and weaponized by the enemy. And if Kane could do this to Lukas, how many more of them were already dancing on strings they couldn't see?
Emily pulled back into the shadows, rain dripping from her hair into her eyes. They would need a new plan — one that didn't just cut out the leak, but severed Kane's hold over every life he'd stolen.