Kira's POV
Smoke and fire filled the apartment.
I hit the floor as debris rained down. My ears rang from the explosion. Through the smoke, I saw figures moving—armored, armed, coming through where the door used to be.
"Down! Get down!" someone shouted.
Zair grabbed me and rolled us both behind the kitchen counter just as plasma fire lit up the room. The shots hit the wall where we'd been standing seconds ago, leaving burning holes.
"Military or resistance?" I gasped.
"Does it matter?" Zair had his weapon out, returning fire. "Either way, they're here to kill us!"
More figures poured through the door—six, seven, eight of them. Too many.
"We're surrounded!" I shouted over the weapons fire.
"The window!" Zair pointed to the living room. "It's our only way out!"
"We're eighteen floors up!"
"I know!" He grabbed my hand and ran, dragging me with him while firing behind us with his other hand.
We reached the window. Zair smashed it with his weapon, glass exploding outward into the night. Cold air rushed in.
"Hold onto me!" he ordered.
"What are you—"
He didn't give me time to finish. Just wrapped one arm around my waist and jumped.
We fell.
I screamed as the ground rushed up to meet us. We were going to die. We were going to—
Something shot from Zair's wrist—a metal cable that attached to the building. We jerked to a sudden stop, swinging wildly in the air, my stomach in my throat.
"Grappling cable," Zair grunted, holding me tight with one arm while his other controlled the device. "Standard military gear. Hold still."
We descended rapidly, bouncing off the building's side. Above us, armored figures appeared in the broken window, pointing down at us.
"They're still coming!" I shouted.
Zair hit a button and we dropped faster. My hair whipped around my face. The ground was coming up fast—too fast.
We landed hard, Zair taking most of the impact. He rolled, keeping me protected, and we crashed into a pile of trash containers in the alley behind the building.
Everything hurt.
"Move!" Zair pulled me to my feet. "They'll be down in seconds!"
We ran through the alley, my legs barely working, adrenaline the only thing keeping me upright. Behind us, I heard boots hitting pavement. Shouts in both Xylaran and human languages.
"This way!" Zair turned down another alley, then another, weaving through the mid-level streets like he knew them by heart.
We ran for what felt like forever but was probably only minutes. Finally, Zair pulled me into a dark doorway and covered my mouth with his hand.
"Quiet," he breathed.
Footsteps pounded past our hiding spot. Multiple sets. They ran right by without seeing us.
We waited, frozen, until the sounds faded.
Zair slowly removed his hand from my mouth. "Are you hurt?"
"I don't know. I can't feel anything." My whole body was shaking. "Who were they? Military or resistance?"
"Both." His expression was grim. "I saw Xylaran military armor and human resistance gear. They're working together now."
"That's impossible. They're enemies."
"Not anymore. Not when they have a common target." He checked the street, then pulled me deeper into the shadows. "The council must have offered the resistance a deal—help capture us, and they'll release some prisoners or ease restrictions. Something big enough to make them cooperate."
"So everyone is hunting us now."
"Everyone."
I slid down the wall, suddenly exhausted. "This is insane. Two days ago, I was just a girl cleaning floors. Now I'm a fugitive wanted by two armies."
Zair crouched in front of me, his violet eyes intense. "Listen to me. I'm going to get you somewhere safe. I have contacts in the outer territories—people who owe me favors. We can disappear there."
"For how long? Forever?"
"If necessary."
"And what about the other offerings? The forty-three people you saved?" I met his eyes. "If we run, the council will blame them. Use them as leverage. They'll suffer because of us."
Zair's jaw tightened. "I know."
"So we can't run."
"Kira—"
"We can't," I said firmly. "If we disappear, forty-three innocent people die. That's not survival. That's just trading their lives for ours."
"And if we stay, we die."
"Maybe. But at least we die trying to do the right thing." I stood up, ignoring my body's protests. "You gave up everything to save those people. Don't let that sacrifice mean nothing."
He stared at me for a long moment. "You're either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid."
"Can't I be both?"
A ghost of a smile crossed his face. Then it vanished. "There might be another option. Dangerous, but possible."
"Tell me."
"We expose the truth. Broadcast evidence of the council's corruption—the execution orders, the false charges against me, everything. Make it public. Force them to back down."
"How? They control all the media. All the communications."
"Not all of it." Zair pulled out a small device from his pocket. "This is a military-grade transmitter. It can override any broadcast system for approximately three minutes before they trace the signal and shut it down. Three minutes to tell the truth to every screen in the city."
"Three minutes to start a revolution."
"Or get us killed faster." He held up the device. "But it's our only move that might actually change something instead of just delaying the inevitable."
I looked at the transmitter, then at him. "If we do this, there's no going back. They'll hunt us even harder."
"They're already hunting us as hard as they can."
"Fair point." I took a deep breath. "What do we need?"
"A broadcast location. Somewhere with good signal coverage and enough of a head start to finish the message before they storm the building." He thought for a moment. "The old Integration Center in Sector Nine. It's abandoned, but the transmission equipment still works. I used to run operations from there."
"How far?"
"Thirty minutes on foot. Longer if we have to avoid patrols."
"Then we should move." I pushed away from the wall.
Zair caught my arm gently. "Before we do this—before we possibly die doing this—I need to say something."
"What?"
He struggled with the words, his face showing more emotion than I'd ever seen. "What I did to you. That first night. Every night after. It was wrong. I don't have excuses. I don't deserve forgiveness. But I need you to know that I see it now. I see what I did. And if I could take it back—"
"You can't." My voice was steady. "What's done is done. But..." I met his eyes. "But maybe you can make different choices now. Better ones. That's all any of us can do."
He nodded slowly. "Then I choose to help you survive this. Whatever it takes."
"We survive together. Or not at all."
"Together," he agreed.
We moved through the dark streets like ghosts, avoiding the main roads where patrols searched. Twice we had to hide from search drones. Once we barely avoided a roadblock.
The old Integration Center loomed ahead—a massive building, dark and empty. The perfect place for a last stand.
"The transmission room is on the fifth floor," Zair whispered. "We go in, set up the broadcast, and say what needs to be said. Five minutes, maybe less. Then we run before they triangulate our position."
"And if we don't make it out?"
"Then at least we tried to change something."
We approached the building's service entrance. The lock was old, and Zair bypassed it easily. The door creaked open into darkness.
We stepped inside.
The door slammed shut behind us.
Lights blazed on, blinding us.
"Don't move," a familiar voice said.
My heart stopped.
Standing in front of us, surrounded by a dozen resistance fighters, was Lysa.
She held a plasma weapon pointed directly at my chest.
"Hello, Kira," she said, her face hard as stone. "I've been looking for you."
"Lysa—" I started.
"Don't." Her finger moved to the trigger. "You saved him. You chose him over your own people. Over me."
"I can explain—"
"There's nothing to explain. You're a collaborator now." She glanced at Zair. "And you're the butcher of the Integration Wars. Both of you are coming with us."
"For protective custody?" Zair asked coldly. "Or execution?"
"That depends on what you have to offer." A new voice spoke from the shadows.
A man stepped forward—older, human, with scars covering half his face. He wore the insignia of a resistance commander.
"My name is Marcus Thorne," he said. "Lysa's father. And the man who's been hunting Xylaran war criminals for five years." His eyes locked on Zair. "You're at the top of my list, Commander. Twenty thousand human deaths in the Integration Wars. All by your hand."
Zair said nothing.
"But," Marcus continued, "I'm a practical man. And right now, you have something I want."
"What?" I demanded.
"Access to the High Council's private network. Security codes. Location of their command bunker." Marcus smiled coldly. "Give us that, and maybe—just maybe—we let you both live."
Zair and I looked at each other.
He had the codes. The access. Everything the resistance needed to strike at the heart of the empire.
But giving it to them would start a war that could kill millions.
"You have thirty seconds to decide," Marcus said, his weapon steady. "Help us, or die here. Choose."
The timer started counting down in my head.
And I had absolutely no idea what the right answer was.Then he was gone.
And I was alone in a locked room, waiting to find out if I'd be alive in an hour.