Hana wondered.
Alone, hidden in the shadows of a facility built on cruelty, her mind raced. She needed a plan. A target. A spark to ignite the revolution she'd always carried inside her.
But for the first time since the apocalypse began, she didn't know where to strike.
How do you destroy evil when it's everywhere? When it's wearing lab coats and hazmat suits and smiling like it's doing the world a favor?
She pressed her palms to her temples, trying to think, trying to breathe—
And then the world tilted.
A sharp, burning pain shot up her arm. Her vision blurred. The floor rushed toward her.
She didn't even have time to curse before everything went black.
…
She woke with a violent gasp.
Air tore into her lungs like she'd been drowning—like someone had shoved her underwater and held her there until her body screamed for oxygen.
She sat up too fast. Head spinning. Heart pounding.
The room around her was small. Grey. Featureless. No windows, and no vents she could see. Just four walls and a single metal door with no handle on her side.
A cell.
Again.
Hana groaned and pushed herself to her feet. Her legs trembled. Her skin felt feverish, buzzing with a strange, prickling heat. She rubbed her arm—and froze.
A long, jagged scratch ran from her wrist to her elbow.
Her stomach dropped.
Infected.
She hadn't even noticed it happen. In the chaos of sneaking through the facility, blending in with the red‑painted infected, she must have brushed too close. One swipe. One scrape. That was all it took.
But she wasn't dead.
She wasn't delirious.
She wasn't turning.
She was… awake.
Alive.
And glowing faintly beneath her skin.
Hana swallowed hard. "Okay."
She approached the door and shoved her shoulder against it. Nothing. She kicked it. Nothing. She slammed her fists into it, almost letting the radioactive heat rise in her bones—
A violent shock ripped through her body.
She screamed, collapsing to her knees as electricity surged from the metal bands locked around her wrists and neck. The pain was sharp, blinding, burning through her nerves like wildfire.
When it finally stopped, she lay panting on the cold floor, muscles twitching.
She lifted her wrists.
Thick metal cuffs. Smooth. Seamless. Embedded with faint blue lights.
A matching collar sat snug against her throat.
A containment system.
A cage.
Her cage.
"Of course," she muttered bitterly. "Of course they'd lock me up again."
She pushed herself upright, wincing as the collar dug into her skin. The room felt smaller now, the walls pressing in, the air too thin. She paced in tight circles, trying to think, trying not to panic.
Someone had found her unconscious.
Someone had dragged her here.
Someone knew what she was.
And they weren't taking chances.
Hana pressed her back to the wall and slid down until she was sitting on the floor. Her breath shook. Her hands trembled. The glow beneath her skin flickered weakly, like a dying ember.
She hated this feeling—helplessness. Vulnerability. Being caged like an animal while evil people walked free.
She clenched her fists.
"No," she whispered. "Not again. Not this time."
The cuffs hum softly, as if mocking her.