I didn't trust it.
Not the tunnel.Not the polished floors that reflected too much light.Not the way Jace kept checking his wrist like he was waiting for permission from someone I couldn't see.
We had been walking for hours through underground corridors that felt too clean, too intentional. Nothing here was accidental. Everything hummed with quiet power.
I hated that.
Controlled spaces meant controlled outcomes.
And I had lived my whole life inside someone else's control.
"This is where it gets complicated," Jace said.
My stomach tightened. "Complicated how?"
He didn't answer right away.
That silence made my chest feel tight.
We stopped at a junction where the tunnel split three ways. Soft white symbols glowed along the ceiling — coordinates, probably. Directions. Instructions.
Jace stepped toward the center platform and tapped his wrist device. A sleek silver transport pod rose silently from the floor.
It looked expensive. Safe. Planned.
"This takes us straight to them," he said.
To them.
My parents.
The word didn't feel real. It felt like something I wasn't allowed to say.
"And they're expecting me?" I asked.
"Yes."
Not searching.Not hoping.
Expecting.
The way Aunt Catherine used to expect me to fail.
My throat tightened unexpectedly.
"How long have you been working for them?" I asked.
Jace looked at me. Just for a second, something flickered in his eyes.
"Always."
Always.
My stomach dropped.
So the message. The clearing. The drones. The timing.
Was any of it chance?
"You could've just told me," I whispered.
"You wouldn't have believed me," he said gently. "You had to choose to leave."
Choose.
The word scraped against something raw inside me.
I took a step toward the pod—
—and froze.
A low vibration rolled through the floor.
Not mechanical.
Familiar.
The same kind of tremor that used to fill the house before Catherine lost her temper. That split-second warning before something shattered.
"Did you feel that?" I asked.
"Yes."
The lights flickered.
My body reacted before my mind did — shoulders tightening, heart racing, breath shortening. I hated that my first instinct was fear.
Darkness swallowed the tunnel.
Red emergency lights snapped on.
An automated voice echoed around us:
"Unauthorized breach detected. Transit system compromised."
My pulse spiked.
"That's not them," Jace muttered.
Before I could ask who, the wall to our left exploded inward in a spray of sparks and debris.
I flinched hard, dropping to the ground instinctively, covering my head.
Voices. Heavy boots. Energy pulses cracking through the air.
Not drones.
People.
Black-armored figures rushed through the smoke — precise, efficient.
They weren't looking at me.
They were aiming at Jace.
"Run!" he shouted.
My legs moved before I decided to.
Not toward the pod.
Not toward the light.
I ran down the third tunnel — the darker one. The one no one had activated.
I didn't want the path they had prepared for me.
Behind me, energy blasts slammed into the walls, sending vibrations through the stone. The sound reminded me too much of slammed doors. Shouted orders. Breaking glass.
"LEXI!" Jace yelled.
I kept running.
The tunnel sloped downward sharply. The lighting here was older — dimmer. The walls rough, unfinished.
My breathing turned ragged.
What if this was a mistake?
What if I was ruining everything?
What if they decided I wasn't worth the trouble after all?
The thought cut deeper than I expected.
The ground trembled again.
But this time—
It wasn't from behind me.
It was inside me.
My vision flickered.
For a split second, I could see the tunnel differently — not with my eyes, but with something else. Lines of energy threaded through the walls like glowing veins. Signals pulsed through hidden wires. Systems humming.
Information flooded my brain too fast.
Layouts.
Security locks.
Heat signatures.
I stumbled, slamming into the wall.
"What's happening to me?" I whispered.
My voice sounded small.
Wrong.
A sharp spark jumped from my fingertips into the metal surface.
The lights above me flared violently.
I gasped and jerked my hand back like I'd been burned.
I hadn't.
The burn was internal — fear racing up my spine.
No.
No, no, no.
I wasn't supposed to be able to do that.
Behind me, the soldiers were getting closer.
I pressed my back against the wall, heart pounding so loudly I could hear it in my ears.
Catherine used to say I broke everything I touched.
Maybe she was right.
Another blast echoed.
I didn't have time to panic.
Slowly — shakily — I placed my palm against the wall again.
This time, I tried to breathe.
Instead of pushing away the sensation, I focused on it.
The hum answered me.
It didn't feel violent.
It felt… responsive.
Like it had been waiting.
I swallowed hard.
"If I can see it," I whispered to myself, "maybe I can move it."
I imagined the blast doors behind me closing.
I imagined the locks sealing.
I imagined silence.
The tunnel lights behind me died instantly.
Massive steel doors crashed down with a deafening boom.
The floor shook.
Then—
Nothing.
No footsteps.
No gunfire.
Just the sound of my own breathing.
I slid down the wall, shaking.
I had just shut down an entire system with my hands.
No device.
No training.
Just fear and instinct.
Tears burned unexpectedly at the corners of my eyes.
I wasn't ready for this.
I didn't want to be.
From behind the sealed doors, Jace's muffled voice echoed faintly.
"That wasn't part of the plan!"
A broken laugh escaped me before I could stop it.
"I know," I whispered.
My hands were still trembling.
I pushed myself to my feet, wiping my face angrily.
Ahead, the tunnel opened into a massive cavern — rough stone, unfinished wiring, emergency lights flickering weakly.
An alternate path.
Not the one prepared.
Not the one controlled.
My chest still hurt from running. From fear. From everything.
If my parents were watching — if they were tracking this —
Then they had just seen me choose something else.
Not obedience.
Not safety.
Something uncertain. Messy. Unplanned.
My whole life, I had been told to stay small.
Stay quiet.
Stay where I was put.
But my hands were still buzzing with power.
And even though I was terrified — even though every step forward felt like walking into something bigger than me —
I kept moving.
Because if this was a battlefield…
Then I was done hiding in the corner.
Even if I was shaking while I stepped into it.