The world had narrowed to a tunnel of pain for Eva. Each breath was a knife in her ribs. The metallic taste in her mouth was her own blood. Zane was a storm of relentless, precise violence, a machine programmed for dismantlement. He wasn't trying to kill her quickly; he was systematically breaking her down, studying her augmented limits under stress.
Through a swollen eye, she saw them—Derek, Leo, the huddle of terrified survivors. They were frozen, watching her be destroyed. Their hope was dying with every blow she took.
Chapter 16 (Continued) – A Gasp of Air
The world had narrowed to a tunnel of
It was the one thing she could not allow.
Gathering the last dregs of her strength, she ducked under a swing that would have taken her head off and created a precious foot of space. She didn't use it to counterattack. She used it to scream.
"RUN!"
The word tore from her ravaged throat, raw and bloody and absolute. It wasn't a suggestion. It was a final command. "GET OUT OF HERE! NOW!"
That single moment of distraction cost her. Zane's metal-taloned foot connected with her side. She felt something crack, a white-hot lightning bolt of agony that stole her vision. She was lifted off her feet and thrown like a discarded ragdoll.
She landed in a bone-jarring heap not ten feet from where Derek and Leo stood, paralyzed. Her face was a mask of blood, one eye already swelling shut, her body curled around her broken ribs.
The sight of her, broken and bleeding at their feet, shattered their paralysis.
"EVA!" Derek yelled, lunging forward.
But Leo was already moving, grabbing Derek's arm and yanking him back. "She's right! MOVE!" he roared, his voice cracking with a mixture of terror and fury.
The spell was broken. The survivors didn't need another order. They surged forward, a stampede of desperation, flowing around Eva's prone form. Derek and Leo hesitated for only a second longer before Leo, with a grunt of effort, hooked his hands under Eva's shoulders and started dragging her backward down the corridor. She was dead weight, a faint, pained moan escaping her lips.
They didn't get far.
Around the next corner, a figure stood, blocking the dim emergency lighting. They all skidded to a halt, a fresh wave of terror seizing them. It was over.
Then the figure spoke.
"Took you long enough."
It was Jordan. He was leaning against the wall, one hand pressed to the freshly scarred tissue on his chest. He was pale, drenched in a cold sweat, but his eyes were clear and burning with a strange, feverish intensity. He looked like a man who had just clawed his way out of his own grave.
Before anyone could process the impossible sight, a black-clad body slammed into the wall beside them with a wet crunch—a final, grim greeting card from the fight they'd left behind.
"Jordan... you're..." Derek stammered, his brain refusing to connect the man standing before him with the corpse they had left behind.
"No time," Jordan gasped, pushing himself off the wall. His movements were stiff, uncoordinated, as if his body was still remembering how to obey his commands. "He's coming."
As if on cue, the methodical, heavy footsteps of Zane began to echo down the corridor behind them. There was no rush in them. Only the chilling certainty of a hunter who knows his prey is cornered.
Leo, still dragging Eva, met Jordan's gaze. No words were needed. In that single look, a lifetime of shared survival passed between them. Jordan gave a sharp, pained nod.
Together, they ran. Leo and Derek half-carried, half-dragged the unconscious Eva, while Jordan stumbled alongside them, his resurrected body protesting every step. The survivors followed in a terrified cluster, their flight now guided by a dead man walking.
They had no plan. No destination. Just the primal, screaming need to put distance between themselves and the relentless, metallic footsteps that echoed their every move, a ticking clock counting down the seconds until they were all caught.