The air inside the cabin felt heavier now. The creaking of the wooden floor under Dimitri's boots seemed louder than it should've been, and every shadow that passed the window made Ayla's heart jolt.
Zayn sat on the edge of the table, arms crossed, his eyes on Dimitri. "You didn't just come here to warn us," he said.
Dimitri, now standing by the map pinned to the cabin's wall, lit a cigarette with shaking fingers. He took a long drag before answering. "No. I've got something else. Something that might help you strike back."
Ayla stood at Silas's side, watching the old smuggler with quiet intensity. Dimitri's presence unsettled her—not because he was threatening, but because he reminded her of how deep this world really went.
"There's a safehouse," Dimitri continued. "Wellington's been using it for deals with clients who don't like being seen. It's not on any radar—only a handful of us ever knew about it. But I've got a contact who says there's been movement there the last few days. Heavy traffic. Something's going down."
Zayn's posture straightened. "Where is it?"
"Just outside Valthera," Dimitri replied, flicking ash into a tray. "Remote. Hidden in the woods. There's a tunnel system underneath, old smuggler routes. You hit that place right, and you might find something useful—maybe even people willing to talk."
Ayla's brow furrowed. "And you're sure it's connected to Wellington?"
Dimitri turned to her, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I'm sure. And there's more."
He paused, locking eyes with her. "Your father used to visit that place."
Ayla's breath caught. "What?"
"I didn't know him well, but I knew his name. Levon. He wasn't just a businessman. He and Wellington had dealings—tense ones. Your father was trying to pull out of something dirty. It didn't sit well with Wellington."
Zayn exchanged a glance with Ayla, her face a mixture of confusion and disbelief.
"I don't know the full story," Dimitri added. "But if Wellington's still using that place, there might be files, accounts, names. Proof of whatever they were tied into."
A heavy silence settled between them before Zayn finally spoke. "Then that's our next move."
Dimitri nodded. "I'll draw the map. But be careful—Wellington doesn't leave things unguarded anymore. And if Kassian's hunting you… you might not come back from this."
As the door creaked shut behind Dimitri, silence settled like dust in the cabin. The only sounds were the wind brushing against the walls and Silas's steady breathing as he rested, bandaged but unconscious.
Zayn leaned against the table, eyes on the trapdoor that led to the hidden room below. His fingers drummed a slow rhythm against the wood, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.
Ayla stepped closer, her arms folded tightly across her chest. "Did you know?" she asked, voice soft. "About my father? About him being involved with Wellington?"
Zayn's gaze shifted to her. There was no coldness in it—just weight, like he was carrying more than he could say. "I suspected he was mixed in something bigger. But I didn't know how deep."
Ayla swallowed, trying to process the storm inside her. "All this time, I thought he was just a businessman. A good one. Fair. Respected. But now… now I don't even know what to believe."
"You can believe this," Zayn said quietly. "He was trying to get out. And that probably got him killed."
Ayla looked away, her jaw tightening. She didn't want tears, not now. Not when everything was closing in around them.
Zayn took a step forward, his voice gentler. "You okay?"
She let out a dry laugh. "Do I look okay?"
"No," he admitted. "But you look strong."
That made her pause. She met his eyes—dark, steady, the kind that didn't flinch from truth. She saw something else in them, too. Not sympathy. Something more grounded. Respect.
"You didn't have to help us," she said.
He shrugged. "Silas is my brother. And now you're in this too, whether you asked for it or not."
Ayla hesitated. Then, in a moment of rare vulnerability, she reached out and placed her hand on his forearm. "Thank you. For not walking away."
Zayn didn't move for a second. Then he nodded, once. "We'll get through this. But we need to be smart. And fast."
Outside, Dimitri's voice called through the door. "You're gonna want to see this."
The moment broke, and Ayla stepped back, steeling herself.
Zayn gave her a final look. "Ready?"
She drew a breath. "As I'll ever be."
And together, they stepped into the next unknown.
The atmosphere inside the cabin was heavy, saturated with the weight of impending danger. Zayn pulled the trapdoor closed but didn't seal it yet. The safe room was a last resort—one they might not walk away from if it came to that.
Dimitri leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "We can't just sit here and wait to be cornered like rats."
Zayn nodded. "Agreed. You mentioned another contact?"
Dimitri's eyes flicked toward the boarded-up window. "Yeah. Lena. She's got a place near the eastern industrial zone. Used to run with a syndicate crew before she ghosted them. If anyone can keep you off Wellington's grid for a while, it's her."
Ayla stood by Silas, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. "But how do we even get there? We can't take main roads, and Silas isn't exactly in condition for a stealth op."
Zayn moved to the map Dimitri had laid out earlier on a makeshift table. "There's a maintenance tunnel that leads out a few clicks west. It's risky, but if we make it through before dawn, we might avoid patrols."
Dimitri walked over, pointing at the path. "You'll need breathing masks. The air in those tunnels is stale, maybe toxic. I've got a few spares in the gear locker." He glanced at Ayla. "You ever used a compact rebreather before?"
She shook her head. "No, but I learn fast."
Dimitri grunted approvingly. "Good. Fast learning is the only reason any of us are still breathing."
Zayn looked from the map to Silas, then back to Ayla. "We'll need to move him in shifts. You and I will carry him while Dimitri scouts ahead."
"No," Ayla said quickly, her voice firmer than expected. "I'll take lead for part of it. You're the only one who can shoot straight if we get ambushed, and Dimitri will need your help navigating those tunnels."
Zayn raised an eyebrow, impressed. "You sure?"
"I didn't come this far to fall apart now."
For a brief second, silence fell between them, one heavy with unspoken respect.
Dimitri broke the quiet, his voice a low growl. "You've got maybe two hours before Kassian's people close in. That safe room might buy you ten minutes. Tops."
Zayn exhaled, folding the map and tucking it into his jacket. "Then we don't waste another second."
Within minutes, the cabin turned from a quiet hideout into a silent war zone. Every move was calculated, every sound measured.
Zayn slipped on a tactical harness, checking his pistol and loading an extra mag into the side pouch. Dimitri rummaged through an old crate, tossing rebreathers onto the cot. "These should hold up long enough to get through the tunnel. If it smells like rot or metal, don't breathe deep."
Ayla helped Silas sit up, steadying him with one arm while she secured the rebreather over his mouth. He was still pale, sweating, but conscious enough to register movement. His eyes flickered toward Zayn. "We moving?"
"Yeah," Zayn said, fastening the last strap on his vest. "You're gonna hate every second of it."
Silas gave a weak grin. "Wouldn't be the first time."
Ayla crouched next to him, her fingers brushing his as she adjusted his gear. "You just focus on staying awake."
Dimitri threw her a compact flashlight. "The tunnels are pitch black past the first bend. Use that. But only when needed."
With Silas stabilized and gear distributed, Zayn opened a false panel behind the fireplace, revealing a narrow crawlspace. The stench of damp earth and rust hit them immediately.
"This leads to the access shaft for the old service tunnels," Dimitri explained. "Once you're in, head east till you find the rail tracks. Follow those. There's a vent that comes up behind Lena's compound."
Zayn nodded. "You're not coming with us?"
"I'll cover your exit. Slow them down if I have to. Besides…" Dimitri gave Zayn a look. "Someone's got to make sure they think you're still here."
Zayn clapped him on the shoulder. "You sure?"
Dimitri smirked. "I've bought time in worse ways."
With no time left to argue, Ayla helped Zayn lift Silas, careful not to strain his wounds. Together, they slid into the narrow tunnel. The earth was damp, the ceiling low, forcing them to crouch as they moved forward in near silence.
The trapdoor shut behind them with a soft thud.
They were inside the walls of the underworld now—tight, dark, and unforgiving. Every step forward was a risk, but going back wasn't an option.
Ayla took point, flashlight low to the ground to avoid reflections. Zayn followed closely, carrying most of Silas's weight as they navigated the uneven terrain. The silence was only broken by the distant drip of water and the scuff of their boots on old stone.
"Keep low," Zayn whispered. "If Kassian's crew is using sonar, even echoes can give us away."
Ayla nodded, sweat collecting at her temple.
Behind them, far above, the sound of splintering wood echoed faintly through the ground.
The cabin had been breached.
They were officially being hunted.
The narrow staircase groaned under their weight as Zayn pulled the trapdoor shut above them. The faint thud of it sealing echoed like a coffin lid. Darkness swallowed them until Zayn flicked on a small tactical flashlight, casting a narrow beam over the cramped stone tunnel ahead.
Ayla supported Silas with one arm around his waist, his weight leaning heavily against her. He was still half-conscious, murmuring things she couldn't quite understand.
"They're going to breach the cabin any second," Zayn whispered, his voice taut with urgency. "We have to move."
The tunnel sloped downward, cool and damp, carved years ago by smugglers who knew the value of a good escape route. It twisted and forked, but Zayn moved with confidence—he'd memorized every inch of this place. Behind them, distant thuds vibrated through the walls. The cabin was under siege.
"Will they follow us down here?" Ayla asked, glancing back.
"If they find the trapdoor, maybe. But this tunnel has defenses. Old ones." Zayn's voice darkened. "Stay close, and don't touch anything unless I tell you."
They pressed forward in silence, the only sounds their hurried footsteps and Silas's ragged breaths. Then came a faint mechanical click.
Zayn's hand shot out. "Stop."
Ayla froze mid-step.
A thin wire stretched across the path just inches from her boot.
"Tripwire," Zayn muttered, kneeling beside it. He examined the edges of the tunnel. "Pressure plates too. Someone's upgraded the traps since the last time I came through."
Dimitri, probably.
He carefully disarmed it, cutting the wire with a small knife and wedging a metal wedge into the plate.
"Go slow," he said. "This means someone's been prepping this place for war."
They continued through the winding path. At one point, the walls narrowed so tightly Ayla had to turn sideways to help Silas squeeze through. The air grew thicker, damp with the scent of mold and rust. Her pulse hammered.
Suddenly, Silas stirred more vividly. His voice rasped low. "Ayla…?"
She stopped. "I'm here."
His eyelids fluttered, pain flickering in his gaze. "Where—"
"Shh. Just rest. We're almost out."
But they weren't.
Up ahead, a faint noise—a shuffle, maybe—made Zayn halt. He held up a fist. Ayla ducked behind him instinctively, pulling Silas down into a crouch. Zayn pressed his back to the tunnel wall and listened.
Another shuffle. Breathing. More than one person.
Zayn turned to her, lips barely moving. "We're not alone."
The tunnel narrowed, shadows curling like smoke around their footsteps. Zayn moved ahead with calculated precision, his weapon raised, scanning every curve of the corridor. Behind him, Ayla supported Silas, whose strength was returning in uneven bursts. His breathing had steadied, but each step still cost him effort.
The damp air was heavy with silence—until Ayla froze.
"Wait," she whispered, tightening her grip on Silas.
Zayn stopped immediately and turned, sensing the shift in her tone.
Ayla's eyes swept the tunnel walls. Her senses were on high alert now, sharpened by days of tension and fear. Something wasn't right. A faint glimmer reflected off the stone to her left—barely noticeable, but enough. A thin wire stretched across the tunnel, about knee-high, nearly invisible in the dim light.
"Tripwire," she whispered, stepping closer and crouching down. Her fingers hovered above it. "It's rigged. Maybe to a motion sensor… or worse."
Zayn's eyes narrowed. "Good catch. You just saved our asses."
She stood slowly, heart pounding, but steady now. "We'd have walked right into it."
Zayn nodded, impressed. "Wellington's men must've expected us to use these tunnels. Which means they're either waiting ahead… or behind."
Silas managed a grim smile. "Can't say I missed this part of the job."
"Keep your strength," Ayla said softly, adjusting her arm around his waist. Then to Zayn, her voice sharper: "If they've trapped this route, there may be more ahead. We'll have to move slower."
Zayn leaned in, inspecting the tripwire more closely. "I'll disarm it. Cover me."
Ayla raised her pistol, eyes on the shadows beyond, her body tense but focused. As Zayn carefully clipped the wire with a steady hand, she thought back to everything that had happened—from the alley where she first met Silas, to the gunfire in NexaCore, to her father's death.
This moment—one wire, one choice—felt like a test.
The wire snapped, falling limp.
Zayn stood. "Clear. Let's keep going, but stay alert. That was just the beginning."
As they continued through the narrowing passage, Ayla's resolve solidified. She wasn't just caught in this anymore. She was part of it now—part of the fight, part of the risk… and part of the answer.
"In the silence between chaos, the embers of resistance begin to glow."
— Xelvarian Resistance Proverb
The tunnel eventually widened into a hollowed-out space beneath an old warehouse on the outskirts of Valthera. Zayn ducked under a beam and emerged into the dim glow of moonlight filtering through a rusted grate above. The air was thick with dust and silence.
"We're here," he said, breathless. He set Silas down gently on a pile of crates and motioned for Ayla to stay alert.
Ayla stepped forward, her eyes scanning the crumbling interior. "This place doesn't look like it's been used in years."
"That's the point," Zayn murmured. He pulled a rusted lever behind a support beam. A heavy panel slid into place, sealing the tunnel entrance behind them with a dull clang.
Silas stirred slightly, a low groan slipping from his lips.
"He's waking up," Ayla whispered, kneeling beside him.
Zayn knelt too, checking Silas's pulse and the fresh bandage. "Still weak, but he's fighting. That's a good sign."
A moment passed in tense silence. Then Ayla looked up at Zayn, her voice low. "How long can we stay here?"
Zayn's jaw tensed. "Not long. If Kassian's in the city, he'll sniff out every rat hole until he finds us."
Ayla's expression hardened. "Then we don't hide. We fight smart."
Zayn met her eyes, a flicker of reluctant admiration crossing his face. "Yeah… we do."
A loud creak echoed from above, like footsteps on rusted metal.
Zayn raised his finger to his lips. Ayla held her breath, her hand inching toward her weapon.
Silas's eyes fluttered open.
And then—silence.
Zayn exhaled slowly. "Could've been wind."
But the unease didn't lift. In that moment, with the moonlight casting long shadows across the floor and the sound of distant sirens wailing through Valthera's streets, they all knew:
This wasn't over.