Nyra woke up to pain.
Not the sharp, explosive kind that had already burned itself into memory but the deep, relentless ache that pulsed with every heartbeat. Her shoulder felt heavy, useless, wrapped tight. The smell of antiseptic mixed with old smoke clung to the air.
She blinked.
Dim light. Bare walls. A room she knew too well.
"Don't move," Shark's voice came from the corner. Calm. Controlled. Too calm.
Nyra swallowed. Her throat was dry. "Didn't plan to," she muttered.
He stepped closer, arms crossed, eyes scanning her face like he was checking inventory. Alive. Conscious. Still Nyra. Only then did something in his posture loosen just slightly.
"You took a bullet," he said. "Clean through. Missed bone."
She exhaled, almost amused. "Lucky me."
Shark didn't smile.
The silence stretched. Heavy. Charged.
"They were testing," he finally said. "Not random. Not sloppy. Someone wanted to see how close they could get."
Nyra stared at the ceiling, mind already working despite the fog. Routes. Faces. Timings. "Meaning next time…" she trailed off.
"…won't be a warning," Shark finished.
She turned her head slowly to look at him. "We'll adapt."
That earned her a look something between pride and frustration. "You already do too much."
Nyra scoffed softly. "You raised me on 'too much.'"
Another pause.
Then, quieter: "You scared me tonight."
That one landed.
Nyra closed her eyes for a second. She wasn't used to that tone from him. Shark didn't scare. Shark caused fear.
"I'm still here," she said. "That counts."
He nodded once. End of discussion.
Later much later after stitches and instructions and guards repositioned outside the building, Nyra sat alone. Her phone buzzed nonstop. Missed calls. Messages. A whole other life knocking loudly.
ValeTech.
Deadlines didn't care about bullets. Algorithms didn't wait for recovery. And Nyra hated that a small part of her brain was already calculating how much damage her absence would cause.
Pressure from both sides.
For the first time in a long while, the balance trembled.
She stared at the bandage, jaw tight.
This wasn't about pain.
It was about exposure.
Eastside had pushed back.
And somewhere far away, a glass tower full of suits kept moving without her.
Nyra smiled faintly, dark and stubborn.
"Try harder," she whispered to no one.
The night outside remained restless.
And the pressure?
It wasn't breaking her.
It was sharpening her.