The alarms started at 4:47 AM.
Not the fire alarm.
Not a drill.
The breach alarm.
Ethan's eyes snapped open. He was out of the hammock before his brain fully processed the sound—high-pitched wailing that cut through the Grove like a siren designed specifically to shred nerves.
Around him, people were moving.
Fast.
Organized.
Like they'd done this before.
(How many times have they done this?)
Mira appeared from nowhere. Already dressed. Tactical gear. Face set in that flat expression that meant bad.
"Up. Now."
Ethan scrambled.
LE at 267/500. Not critical. Not comfortable.
"What's happening—"
"Thorne." Mira grabbed his arm. Hauled him toward the central tree. "Corporate kill team. Twenty minutes out."
Twenty minutes.
His stomach dropped.
"How do you—"
"Perimeter wards triggered. Sylvia's already evacuating non-combatants." She shoved him through a doorway he hadn't noticed before. "You're going with them."
"I can fight—"
"You can die." Mira stopped. Turned. Those flat eyes boring into him. "Four days of training doesn't make you ready for Thorne's Enhanced Units. You go. I stay."
Enhanced Units.
The words tasted like copper.
Ethan opened his mouth to argue—
The Grove shuddered.
Not earthquake-shudder.
Wrong-shudder.
Like the building itself was breathing and something just punched it in the lungs.
Mira's expression didn't change but her hand moved to the blade at her hip.
"Fifteen minutes now. Move."
She turned.
Left.
Just—left him there.
(She's going to fight.)
(She's going to die.)
His LE pulsed.
[LE: 267/500]
[Seed Integration: 34%]
[New notification: Combat Protocol available]
Combat Protocol.
What the hell was—
No time.
Ethan ran.
The evacuation tunnel was narrow.
Dirt walls reinforced with living roots that pulsed faintly green. Forty people moving in near-silence. Kids. Elderly. The moss-covered woman from his first day, carrying a child who couldn't have been more than five.
Ethan fell in line.
Tried not to think about Mira.
Tried not to think about the kill team that was coming.
(Twenty Enhanced Units, she said.)
(How many does the Grove have?)
He counted faces as they moved.
Twelve combatants stayed behind.
Twelve versus twenty.
Math didn't look good.
The tunnel sloped upward. Steep. His calves burned after thirty seconds. After two minutes his lungs were screaming.
Behind him, someone coughed.
Wet sound.
Like drowning on dry land.
Ethan glanced back.
Old man. Seventies maybe. Skin covered in bark patches that looked like they were spreading. Each breath rattled.
No one stopped to help him.
They just kept moving.
(Because stopping means everyone dies.)
Ethan's phone buzzed.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
He pulled it out while walking. Screen cracked from the Thornbound fight four days ago but still functional.
Unknown Number.
Message waiting.
He shouldn't open it.
Knew he shouldn't.
Opened it anyway.
[1 Image Attachment]
[1 Text Message]
Ethan's thumb hovered.
Pressed.
The image loaded.
His heart stopped.
Mom.
Tied to a chair.
Duct tape across her mouth.
Left eye swollen shut. Blood crusted on her lip.
But alive.
Eyes wide. Terrified.
Staring directly at the camera like she knew he'd see this.
The text below:
"We have your mother. Helena. Or does she prefer Diane these days?"
"Cooperate and she lives. Run and we start mailing pieces."
"Check your email. You have six hours."
Ethan stopped walking.
The person behind him bumped into his back. Kept moving. Didn't stop.
Helena.
What—
His mom's name was Diane.
Always had been.
Diane Marie Cross.
Who the fuck was Helena?
His hands shook.
Vision blurred at the edges.
[LE: 267→251 (-16)]
[Emotional distress detected]
[Recommend: stabilization or sedation]
Stabilization.
Right.
Like he could just calm down when—
Another message.
Same number.
"Timer starts now. Six hours. Instructions in email."
"Tell anyone, she dies screaming."
Six hours.
Ethan stared at the photo.
At his mom's face.
(When did they take her?)
(How long has she been—)
His phone buzzed again.
Email notification.
Subject: TERMS
He didn't open it.
Not here.
Not with forty people around him in a tunnel that smelled like damp earth and fear.
Ethan shoved the phone in his pocket.
Kept walking.
Legs moving on autopilot.
Brain stuck three hundred miles away in his mom's apartment wondering if she'd screamed when they grabbed her.
(Did she fight?)
(Did they hurt her?)
The image burned behind his eyes.
That swollen eye. The blood.
His LE dropped.
[LE: 251→234 (-17)]
The Seed pulsed.
Angry.
Hungry.
Let me out. I can find her. I can—
No.
Not listening.
Not now.
The tunnel ended at a storm grate.
Sylvia was waiting. Silver hair pulled back. Eyes scanning each person as they climbed out into—
Woods.
Different woods.
Ten miles north of Concord if Ethan's mental map was right.
Sylvia's gaze landed on him.
Narrowed.
"You're pale."
"I'm fine."
"You're lying." She stepped closer. Lowered her voice. "What happened?"
Ethan's hand went to his pocket.
Phone heavy like a brick.
Tell anyone, she dies screaming.
"Nothing. Just—tired."
Sylvia's expression said she didn't believe him.
But she nodded.
"Rest when we reach the secondary site. Two miles east." She gestured to the group. "Stay with them. Don't wander."
She moved on.
Ethan stood there.
Two miles east.
His mom was three hundred miles south.
In a room.
Tied to a chair.
Bleeding.
His LE pulsed.
[LE: 234→219 (-15)]
Dropping fast.
The Seed didn't like stress.
Or maybe it fed on stress and his body was the cost.
Didn't matter.
Ethan pulled out his phone.
Opened the email.
FROM: [REDACTED]
TO: ethan.cross.2170@[...]
SUBJECT: TERMS
MESSAGE:
Ethan Cross.
Your mother is alive. For now.
You want her back, you follow instructions. Exactly.
STEP 1: Leave the Grove. Alone. No Verdant escorts.
STEP 2: Drive to coordinates below. Arrive by 11:00 AM.
STEP 3: Bring the Seed. We extract it. You live. She lives.
Deviate and she dies.
Tell Mira Chen and she dies.
Attempt rescue and she dies.
You have five hours, forty minutes.
Coordinates: [42.9157° N, 71.4941° W]
Don't be late.
Ethan stared.
Five hours.
The coordinates were—he pulled up Maps—abandoned industrial zone. Forty miles south.
Empty buildings.
No witnesses.
Perfect place for an ambush.
(Or an execution.)
His hands shook.
Bring the Seed. We extract it.
Like it was a tumor.
Something you could just cut out.
Except Sylvia said integration was permanent. Removing it meant death.
They knew that.
(They don't care.)
(They want the Seed. You're just the container.)
Ethan's LE hit 201/500.
Critical threshold approaching.
His vision swam.
Around him, the group was moving. Heading east. Voices low. No one looking at him.
He could leave.
Right now.
Just—walk south. Steal a car. Drive to the coordinates.
Trade himself for Mom.
(And die.)
(And she dies anyway because Thorne doesn't leave witnesses.)
His chest felt too tight.
The Seed pulsed.
Angry.
Hungry.
Let me out. Let me GROW. I can—
"Ethan."
He flinched.
Spun.
Sylvia stood three feet away. Eyes narrow.
"You're not fine."
"I said—"
"I know what you said." She stepped closer. Bark-covered hand reaching for his phone. "What did they send you?"
Tell anyone, she dies screaming.
Ethan pulled the phone back.
"Nothing. Just—spam."
Sylvia's expression hardened.
"Thorne doesn't send spam." Her voice dropped. "If they contacted you, I need to know. Now."
Five hours thirty-seven minutes.
Mom's face behind his eyes.
Blood on her lip.
(You tell Sylvia, they kill her.)
(You don't tell Sylvia, Thorne kills her.)
(Either way she's dead.)
His LE dropped.
[LE: 201→187 (-14)]
"Ethan." Sylvia's hand landed on his shoulder. Firm. "Whatever they said, we can handle it. You don't have to—"
"They have my mom."
The words fell out.
Sylvia froze.
"What."
Ethan's hands shook so hard he almost dropped the phone.
"Thorne. They—" His voice cracked. "They grabbed her. Sent proof. Want me to trade the Seed for her."
Silence.
Three seconds.
Five.
Sylvia's expression didn't change but something behind her eyes shifted.
"When."
"Five hours ago. Maybe six." Ethan pulled up the photo. Couldn't look at it again. Handed the phone to Sylvia. "They want me at these coordinates by eleven."
Sylvia stared at the screen.
Her jaw tightened.
"Helena."
Ethan blinked.
"What?"
"They called her Helena." Sylvia's eyes flicked to him. "Your mother's name is Diane."
"Yeah, I—I don't know why they—"
"I do." Sylvia handed the phone back. Voice flat. "We need to move. Now."
She turned.
Started walking.
Not east with the group.
South.
Ethan stood there.
Brain stuttering.
"What—wait—"
Sylvia stopped. Looked back.
"Your mother's birth name was Helena. She changed it twenty years ago. Witness protection." Pause. "Thorne found her anyway."
The world tilted.
"Witness protection from what—"
"Later. Right now we have five hours to get her back before they kill her." Sylvia's eyes hardened. "You coming or not?"
Ethan stared.
At Sylvia.
At the phone in his hand.
At the coordinates glowing on the screen.
Tell anyone, she dies.
(You already told.)
(She's dead anyway.)
(Unless—)
His LE pulsed.
[LE: 187/500]
[Seed Integration: 34%]
[Combat Protocol: AVAILABLE]
Ethan shoved the phone in his pocket.
"I'm coming."
Sylvia nodded once.
Turned south.
Started running.
Ethan followed.
Behind them, the evacuation group disappeared into the trees.
Ahead—
Forty miles.
Five hours.
And his mom tied to a chair in a room that smelled like blood and duct tape and decisions that would get everyone killed.
His hands stopped shaking.
The Seed pulsed.
Hungry.
This time, he didn't fight it.
[LE: 187/500]
[Time Remaining: 5:21:33]
[Probability of Success: 11%]