Deadman's City bled from the edges. Neon signs flickered like dying stars, and steam curled from sewer grates as if the streets themselves were exhaling ghosts. The night was alive, watching, whispering.
Jace crouched atop a gutted high-rise, eyes on the skyline. Across from him, the shattered remains of Echo Sector burned—a Syndicate listening station reduced to rubble. He hadn't seen Ravenna in hours, but her mark was everywhere. Bodies. Smoke. Silence. That was her signature.
He lit a flare and dropped it into the wreckage.
Behind him, Echo collapsed.
One more node severed.
One more chain broken.
The war wasn't over—but a message had been sent: Deadman's City doesn't kneel.
He pulled his comms device from his coat and tuned in. Static. Then—
"—Cross, come in. Sector's hot. Ravenna's moving west. There's chatter—Golgotha's being activated."
Jace's jaw clenched. Not here. Not now.
He pocketed the device and vanished into the fog.
___________________________________________________________________________
Two miles away, Ravenna was carving her way through the underbelly of the City—an abandoned rail yard that once ferried illegal weapon caches for the Syndicate. Now it was a graveyard of rusted steel and whispered secrets.
She moved like smoke, silent and deadly, twin pistols tucked against her spine. Her eyes scanned the shadows. The wind carried gun oil, blood, and betrayal.
She found Echo's backup node hidden in a shipping crate, rigged with tripwires and motion mines. It was child's play for her. She disarmed it, hacked the panel, and downloaded the encryption cache.
Golgotha was real. And it was moving.
Behind her, someone stepped on gravel.
She didn't turn. "Don't sneak up on me unless you're faster than a bullet."
A laugh.
Then Jace's voice: "Good thing I never claimed to be."
She turned to find him leaning against a crate, blood on his collar, cigarette half-burned between his lips. That smirk—equal parts charm and sin—made her want to kiss him and stab him at once.
"You followed me," she said.
"I always do."
She tossed him the data chip. "It's happening. Golgotha's going active. The girl wasn't a fluke. She was Phase One."
Jace's face darkened. "And Phase Two?"
Ravenna looked past him, toward the flickering skyline. "Us."
The city didn't sleep—it convulsed.
Sirens screamed in the distance, blending with the low hum of Syndicate airships circling overhead like vultures. Deadman's City was under lockdown, and the scent of ozone and burning flesh soaked the wind like old perfume.
Ravenna crouched over a rooftop edge, peering through her rifle scope at the compound known as Echo Station—a Syndicate data hub buried beneath what looked like an abandoned freight depot. But Ravenna knew better. Echo wasn't just a facility.
It was a prison for secrets.
Below, Jace adjusted his tactical gloves beside her. His jaw was clenched, the glow of city lights throwing sharp shadows across his face. She watched him without speaking. It still felt foreign—seeing him again after all the years, after all the lies.
"You sure about this?" he muttered.
"No," she said. "But we're out of time."
Behind them, the girl stirred. She was wrapped in an insulated cloak Kellin had stolen from a corpse three blocks back. Her eyes, still glowing faintly amber, blinked slow—unnerving in their emptiness.
"She hasn't said a word since we escaped," Jace whispered, eyeing her.
"She's calculating," Ravenna replied. "Bio-coded minds don't panic. They adapt."
He turned to her. "You're saying she knows what she is?"
"She knows enough."
They fell silent again. Then:
Kellin's voice crackled in their earpieces. "You're not gonna like this... but we've got incoming. Syndicate VTOLs. Two. ETA... ninety seconds."
Ravenna sighed. "Of course we do."
She stood, checked her weapons—blades, pistols, plasma-charged incendiaries. Jace followed suit. He carried a long-range disruptor rifle slung over his back, a gift from a job gone wrong in Eastern Dakar.
Kellin's voice buzzed again: "The girl... if they catch her, they can force a sync. Golgotha comes online. Endgame."
"I know," Ravenna snapped. "We don't let that happen."
She turned to the girl. "You walk when I say walk. You run when I say run. You freeze when I say freeze. Nod if you understand."
The girl blinked once.
That was enough.
They descended the rooftop fire escape like ghosts. The alley below stank of rotting trash and gunpowder. Drones buzzed past the mouth of the street, scanning for warm bodies. Ravenna threw an EMP spike. The nearest drone fizzled and dropped like a dying firefly.
They slipped into the side entrance of Echo Station, bypassing the retinal scanner with a severed Syndicate eyeball Jace kept in a frozen pouch—some things never changed.
Inside, the walls bled flickering light from broken fixtures. Server towers hummed like angry beehives. The silence was oppressive.
Then—
Gunfire.
Ravenna shoved the girl down and rolled behind cover. Jace returned fire, his rounds whistling through steel. Syndicate soldiers were already there—waiting. Anticipating.
"How the fuck did they know?!" Jace barked.
Ravenna's eyes narrowed. "Someone tipped them. Someone close."
Her gaze flicked to Kellin, speaking in her ear again. "They jammed the backup route—you're boxed in."
She hissed. "Prove you're not the leak, Kellin. Get us an exit. Now."
Jace tossed a grenade into the next room. The explosion lit up the hallway, revealing charred bodies and melted door frames.
They ran.
Down stairwells. Through data halls. Past holograms flickering strange mathematical sequences that only the girl paused to glance at.
"What is that?" Ravenna asked.
The girl blinked. "The unlock code."
"For Golgotha?"
"For what comes after."
Before she could respond, the floor shook.
Something massive was descending from the upper floors—a Nemesis-class enforcer mech. Three stories tall. Built for breach and slaughter.
Ravenna grabbed Jace. "Split left. You draw it. I take the girl right."
"I always get the fun job," he muttered, disappearing into the smoke with a flashbang in hand.
She dragged the girl through the server core, dodging collapsing ducts and sparking panels. A Syndicate agent tried to cut them off—Ravenna slit his throat in a fluid motion without breaking stride.
Then the girl stopped.
"What the hell—keep moving!"
The girl pointed at a terminal glowing red. "It's here. The upload point."
Ravenna's blood went cold. "What upload?"
"I can send a kill protocol. Shut Golgotha down."
"You could've told me that an hour ago!"
The girl's voice was cold. "I hadn't decided to trust you yet."
Outside, Jace's voice came through the comms—labored, bloodied. "I'm hit—but the mech's down. Took my rifle with it."
"Kellin?" Ravenna asked.
"I've got a route. Rooftop extraction. Thirty floors up."
Ravenna cursed. "Of course it is."
The girl was already working the terminal, fingers moving too fast to be human. The lights pulsed, then dimmed. A warning tone blared.
"Security breach detected. Purge in thirty seconds."
Ravenna yanked her up. "We move. Now."
They sprinted.
Behind them, the building began to self-destruct—implosions designed to leave nothing behind.
They reached the stairwell.
Then—
A shot.
Jace stumbled out of the shadows, holding his side, blood soaking through his jacket.
"Don't stop," he rasped. "Keep her safe."
She reached him.
Held him for a breath.
"I'm not losing you again," she whispered.
His smile was faint. "You never had me, Red... I was always yours."
They dragged him up the stairs together.
And the fire chased them every step.
Thirty floors felt like three hundred when you're dragging a half-conscious man, dodging fire, and protecting a girl whose mind could possibly end—or save—the world.
Ravenna's muscles screamed. Her vision blurred from smoke and adrenaline. But she didn't stop. Couldn't.
Jace grunted with every step, teeth gritted. He was bleeding badly now. Too fast. Too much.
"Talk to me," she said, breath ragged.
He coughed. "You remember Naples?"
"You mean the yacht job?"
"You said we'd retire. That we'd grow old, find some island, drink poison sunsets."
"You said I was dreaming."
"Maybe I was wrong."
She looked at him—eyes wet, burning. "Then hold on long enough to prove it."
Behind them, the girl ran without fatigue, eerily calm, gaze fixed ahead like she could see the rooftop already.
Kellin's voice buzzed in. "Extraction chopper is circling. Two minutes max before they're forced to retreat. If you don't get topside... it's over."
Ravenna hit the last stairwell door with her shoulder. It gave way, revealing a night sky filled with ash and spinning searchlights.
The rooftop was chaos.
Syndicate operatives were already landing—ropes, drones, aerial hover-snipers. The chopper hovered at the edge, blades thrumming violently.
Gunfire erupted the second they stepped out.
Ravenna flung a smoke capsule. Visibility vanished.
She dragged Jace behind a utility box, blood trailing like a scar across the concrete. "Can you hold a gun?"
He handed her his last grenade instead.
"Make it count," he said.
She gave him a look. "Always do."
Then she ran.
The girl followed without hesitation.
They weaved through gunfire, ducked under drone fire, slipped behind a downed antenna mast. Syndicate soldiers yelled over the comms, trying to triangulate them.
Ravenna found a turret mount, still active, and gunned it.
The rooftop lit up with fire and screams.
The chopper descended lower, hatch opening. Kellin waved frantically from inside. "Now or never!"
Then—
A figure emerged from the far rooftop access door.
Black coat. Mask. Twin sabers.
Captain Ryker.
The Syndicate's butcher. A man Ravenna thought dead.
He pointed at her.
"Bring me the girl," he said, voice modulated and venomous.
Ravenna raised her blade. "Come take her."
Ryker moved like lightning—swords clashing against her daggers, sparks raining between them as they fought in tight, brutal bursts. He kicked, twisted, struck high. She parried, rolled, countered.
Every move was a memory—training they'd once shared when she was still under Syndicate command.
He was better now.
Faster.
Angrier.
"Should've stayed dead," she hissed, spinning low and slicing into his thigh.
He didn't even flinch. Just grinned beneath his mask.
"You always loved making things personal."
Then he shoved her.
Hard.
She slammed against a beam.
Before he could strike again—
A gunshot rang out.
Ryker jerked. Stumbled.
Jace, crawling on one knee, gun shaking in his grip.
"Touch her again," he rasped, "I'll blow your spine into poetry."
Ryker snarled and turned—
And Ravenna took his head.
Clean.
One stroke.
Silence.
She stood there, panting, blood on her face, Ryker's body slumped at her feet.
The chopper was lower now.
Jace stumbled toward them, nearly collapsing, and Ravenna caught him. The girl jumped in first. Kellin reached down, screaming over the rotors, and pulled them up one by one.
The moment Ravenna climbed in, the chopper peeled off.
Syndicate fire chased them into the clouds.
But they were out.
Alive.
For now.
Jace slumped against the hull, eyes fluttering. "Naples, huh?"
She kissed his forehead. "We'll find it."
The girl sat near the window, staring into the sky.
"What now?" Kellin asked, flying them east.
Ravenna glanced at the girl.
She turned to meet Ravenna's gaze and spoke, emotionless:
"Now we burn their world."
The rain came harder now—acidic drizzle that left a faint hiss wherever it touched metal. Echo Sector was burning. Ravenna could see the orange blaze reflected in the lenses of Jace's goggles as they moved through the shattered alleyways, her every step ringing like a gunshot in the silence that followed Syndicate thunder.
They didn't speak. Not yet. They were ghosts now—drifting through the ruins of a city choking on secrets.
Behind them, Kellin limped, clutching the neural chip tight against his chest. The girl, too—silent, pale, her amber-glow eyes hidden beneath Ravenna's oversized coat. She moved like a dream barely clinging to reality. But she kept up.
They ducked into a collapsed subway entrance. Graffiti glowed faint on the tiles—symbols of the old rebellion. A cracked sign overhead read:
"WELCOME TO ECHO – KEEP YOUR HEAD LOW."
Jace chuckled bitterly. "Still good advice."
Ravenna drew her blade and pointed it at the stairwell.
"Go," she whispered.
The descent was slow. Darkness wrapped around them like a cloak. Syndicate sensors didn't reach this deep—yet. Here, in the veins of the city, the last pieces of the old world still pulsed: rusted rails, forgotten train cars, and the bones of the dead.
They reached a chamber—circular, full of old relay panels and half-melted screens. It stank of ozone and burnt circuitry.
Kellin slumped to the floor. "This was Echo Hub Four. Before they gassed it."
Ravenna turned to the girl. "You. Sit. No sudden moves."
The girl obeyed, sitting cross-legged on the cracked tiles. Her glowing eyes flicked from Jace to Ravenna, and for the first time, she spoke.
"I... I was never meant to leave the facility."
Her voice was soft. Too soft for what she'd been through.
Ravenna crouched before her, brows furrowed. "What's your name?"
"I don't know," she said.
Jace stepped forward. "That chip Kellin's holding—"
"It was inside her," Kellin muttered. "Hidden behind a synthetic lung. Took a scanner just to see it."
"She's a carrier," Jace finished.
Ravenna stood. "More than that. She's a lock."
Kellin nodded. "And Golgotha's the vault."
Silence.
Jace turned to Ravenna. "You ever hear of Project Echo?"
She nodded slowly. "A myth. Ghost tech. Said they were growing humans. Programming them. Keyed to neural pathways."
"They weren't myths," Kellin said, breathing heavy. "They're real. She's proof."
The girl looked down at her hands. "I remember needles. Cold metal. Wires in my spine. I dreamed of screaming, but there was no mouth."
Ravenna felt something twist in her chest. It wasn't pity. It was recognition. They had tried to break this girl the same way they'd tried to break her.
Jace exhaled. "They're coming to wipe her. To start over."
"Or worse," Ravenna said. "Turn her on."
Kellin coughed blood. "We have three hours. Tops."
Ravenna turned to Jace. "What's the play?"
He hesitated.
Then: "We take her to the Dredge."
Kellin sat up, panic in his eyes. "The Dredge? That's suicide. It's crawling with scav gangs."
"They won't touch her if we barter right," Jace replied. "And the Dredge has one thing nowhere else does."
"An uplink node," Ravenna finished. "Old net access."
"We can decrypt the chip. Find out what's really on it."
The girl shivered. "What if I don't want to know?"
Ravenna kneeled before her again. "You don't get that choice. None of us did."
The girl stared back. "Then give me a name."
Ravenna blinked.
The girl's voice firmed. "Before we go. I want to stop being a thing."
Jace's eyes softened.
Ravenna looked at her long. "Then you're Echo now. That's what they called this place. It died and still speaks. Just like you."
The girl—Echo—nodded.
And for the first time, she smiled.
—
They left Echo Hub Four just before dawn.
Ravenna led the way, twin pistols drawn, moving like wind through the gutted remains of the subway tunnels. The closer they got to the Dredge, the louder the noise became—metal scraping, engines howling, generators whining like chained beasts.
The Dredge was chaos incarnate.
Once a military scrapyard, now a sovereign zone ruled by gangs and syndicates that even the Syndicate avoided. Oil fires lit the horizon. Makeshift towers made of crushed tanks and broken mechs scraped the sky. Guards with glowing eyes watched from rusted catwalks, guns bigger than their torsos cradled lazily in their arms.
Jace raised a hand. "Let me talk first."
They reached the gate—twenty feet of welded death. A lone figure stood before it. Scarred. Huge. Skin like iron. And a grin that showed silver teeth.
"Jace Cross," the man boomed. "You got balls bringing trouble here."
Jace smiled. "Hello, Bishop."
Bishop spat oil. "Who's the girl?"
"The reason we're all still breathing," Jace said.
Ravenna stiffened. Her hand hovered near her blade.
Bishop looked her over. Then Echo.
"Payment?"
Jace tossed a small vial. The guard caught it.
Bishop sniffed it. Eyes widened. "Neurodyne. Fresh."
"Uncut," Jace said. "Three doses."
Bishop licked his teeth. "You get one hour. Then you're fair game."
The gates screamed open.
Ravenna looked to Echo. "Stay close. No matter what you see in there."
Echo nodded.
The Dredge swallowed them whole.
And somewhere deep within its belly, the truth behind Golgotha waited—ticking like a bomb.
The Dredge pulsed with life—a twisted carnival of ruin and excess. Spotlights cut through the smog, casting harsh beams across makeshift brothels, black-market clinics, and cybernetic surgery pits. Music throbbed in the walls. Moans bled into screams. And everywhere, wires and bodies tangled in motion.
Echo clung to Ravenna's coat, wide-eyed.
"Keep moving," Ravenna muttered.
"Don't look scared," Jace added with a grin. "Fear gets you touched in places you won't recover from."
Ravenna gave him a sideways glare. "Like your pride?"
He smirked. "That died years ago. Right around the time I saw you kill a man with a hairpin."
"Should've been you," she said, but there was a flicker of heat beneath her words.
They passed a neon-lit tent. Inside, a woman with chrome arms straddled a bloodied client. Her movements were slow, mechanical—half pleasure, half surgery. Echo looked away.
"This place…" she whispered.
"It's home," Kellin rasped behind them. "If home was hell with a bar tab."
They reached the Uplink Spire, a crooked tower built from the bones of dead satellites and cracked server racks. The entrance was guarded by two twins—albino, blind, cyber-linked. They tilted their heads in perfect sync.
"You bring fire, Jace Cross," one said.
"You bring betrayal," said the other.
"And a girl," they said together.
"She's a lock," Jace replied. "We need your node."
The twins sniffed. One licked his lips. "You'll pay."
"I always do."
Inside, the air was cooler—still choked with static, but less noise, less chaos. They reached the mainframe.
Ravenna leaned in to Echo. "Ready?"
Echo nodded. The fear was still there, but beneath it—steel.
Kellin placed the chip into the port. The room buzzed.
Lines of code danced across the cracked screen. Names. Maps. Files labeled Project Echo, Golgotha, Subject R-731…
Then it hit.
A surge of memories flooded Echo's eyes—she gasped, gripped the console.
Blood.
Fire.
Men in black coats.
A man in chains—his face hidden, voice calling her daughter.
Then screaming. Screaming like a hundred souls burning alive.
Ravenna grabbed her before she collapsed.
Echo's nose bled. "I... I know what they did."
"What?" Jace asked.
"They weren't making weapons. They were making gods."
The words hung in the air like ash.
"They used children," she whispered. "Split our minds. Broke us open. Some... some went mad. Some exploded. I survived."
Ravenna clenched her jaw. "And Golgotha?"
"It's not a place. It's a person. A prototype like me—perfected. They called him The Graveborn."
Jace stiffened. "He's awake?"
Echo nodded. "They want him to hunt me. To absorb me. Complete himself."
Jace backed away, staring at the screen. "That's why they're coming. We're not hiding her anymore. We're holding the last piece of their superweapon."
"Then we fight," Ravenna said simply.
"You always say that," Jace said. "But one of these days, you'll realize it's a death sentence."
Ravenna turned to him, close—too close.
"If it is," she said, her voice low, "I'd rather die in your arms."
He blinked.
And then she kissed him.
Hard. Raw. A clashing of steel and fire.
It wasn't gentle. It wasn't tender.
It was war.
Her fingers tangled in his collar. His hands gripped her hips, dragging her against him. The room melted away—Echo's breathing slowed behind them, Kellin whispered a quiet "finally," and the hum of servers became background noise to the ache between them.
Ravenna bit his lip. He groaned.
"You missed this?" she asked against his mouth.
He nodded, breathless. "Every damn second."
Her hand slipped under his shirt. Scars. Heat. Old wounds.
"You kept the tattoo," she said, dragging her nails across his ribs.
"For you," he muttered. "Always for you."
They didn't undress. Not fully. There was no time for patience. Only hunger. Only need.
She shoved him against the cold server wall. His pistol clattered to the floor.
He lifted her—strong, steady, desperate—and their bodies found rhythm in chaos. Gasps echoed. Ravenna's voice caught in her throat as she arched against him, nails carving marks into his back.
It wasn't just lust. It was a promise.
A truce.
A fucking war cry.
When they came down, breath ragged and skin slick with sweat, Ravenna rested her forehead against his chest.
"Next time," she said, "we do it in a bed."
He chuckled, brushing her blood-matted hair back. "Next time, we survive."
From the other side of the room, Echo spoke.
"They're here."
Ravenna pulled her blade.
Jace picked up his gun.
Outside, engines roared like thunder. The Dredge shook.
A Syndicate drop-cruiser descended in flames.
And in its belly…
The Graveborn stepped out.
The Graveborn stood beneath the cracked floodlights, his silhouette a storm of dread and steel. Seven feet tall. Jet-black armor grown like second skin, fused with muscle and memory. His face—a porcelain mask stitched with glowing red lines. No mouth. Just breath. Like a machine trying to remember how to be human.
Echo trembled.
"I remember him," she said. "He was the last one they showed us. The one who didn't scream. Just… watched."
Jace chambered a round. "Creepy bastard."
Kellin peeked through the broken window. "He brought friends."
Dozens of Syndicate soldiers fanned out behind the Graveborn. Mechs. Drones. A squad of mercs in suits pulsing with blue veins—enhanced killers, bred for urban war.
Ravenna grabbed Echo by the arm. "We don't run. We move."
"To where?" Jace snapped.
She pointed skyward. "To the rooftops. Dredge Level Nine. We drop the comm tower. Bury the Spire. Trap them here."
Echo's eyes widened. "We'll kill everyone inside."
Ravenna's expression didn't change. "They were already dead."
They moved fast.
The hallways shook as the drop-cruiser powered down. Lights shattered. Sirens screamed.
Jace covered their rear, double-tapping a drone that got too close. Ravenna led, slicing a merc's throat in mid-sprint, barely pausing as blood misted over her cheek.
They hit the lift.
Kellin hotwired the controls. "Five seconds."
"We don't have five," Jace growled.
Behind them, the Graveborn entered the corridor—quiet, deliberate. He didn't run. He walked.
Bullets bounced off his armor like rain on steel. He raised one hand and fired a concussive pulse—Kellin flew backward, smashing into the wall, ribs cracking.
Echo screamed.
Jace moved to shoot—but the Graveborn's second pulse hit like a train, slamming him into the elevator doors.
Ravenna acted without hesitation.
She launched forward, blade high, throwing knives singing through the air.
The Graveborn caught two mid-flight. Let the third embed in his side without blinking.
Then he turned.
Their eyes met.
Ravenna charged.
Their clash was thunderous—steel and fury. Ravenna flipped over his swing, landed behind him, slashed deep across the back of his knee. No scream. No blood. Just sparks.
He spun. Grabbed her by the throat.
Lifted her.
Jace, dazed, saw it happen through blurred vision.
"RAVENNA!"
She gagged, boots kicking. Her blade slipped from numb fingers.
Then Echo screamed—not in fear, but in rage.
The screens around them exploded. Sparks rained down. Her body glowed faintly—veins lit with white fire.
"Put her down!" Echo shrieked.
The Graveborn froze.
Echo stepped forward, light crackling from her palms.
And the moment shattered.
A wave of force burst from her like a sonic boom. The walls cracked. Lights burst. The Graveborn flew backward, crashing through a concrete pillar.
Ravenna collapsed, coughing, gasping.
Jace crawled to her, dragging her to the lift just as the doors slid open.
Kellin—bloodied, barely conscious—slammed the override.
They rose.
Fast.
Alarms howled below.
Above, the rooftop wind bit cold. Concrete crumbled under their boots as they stepped out into the storm.
The comms tower loomed—tall, skeletal, humming with unstable power.
Kellin stumbled toward the control rig. "Ten minutes till it falls."
Jace shook his head. "We don't have ten."
Ravenna turned to Echo. "That power—can you control it?"
"I don't know."
"You better learn," she said. "Because he's coming."
As if summoned, the rooftop elevator screamed open behind them.
The Graveborn rose from the smoke. Helmet cracked. One eye exposed—glowing red, inhuman.
Jace stepped forward, blood running down his face.
"I've got this," he said.
Ravenna touched his arm. "We do this together."
He looked at her, long and hard. Then nodded.
The Graveborn sprinted.
Ravenna met him head-on, ducking under his punch, slicing deep across his chest. Sparks. Pain. He grunted.
Jace flanked—unloading a full clip into the weak points she opened.
He stumbled.
Echo knelt beside Kellin. Her fingers touched the exposed console wiring. Sparks danced over her skin. Her eyes rolled back.
Energy surged from her.
The tower began to overload.
Lightning arced from the antenna into the storm clouds above. Thunder cracked the sky.
"Move!" Echo screamed. "It's going to fall!"
Jace pulled Ravenna back.
The Graveborn took a step.
And then the tower exploded.
Flame. Shrapnel. Light.
The rooftop vanished in fire.
Smoke billowed into the shattered sky, swirling like the last breath of a dying god. The tower had collapsed in a cyclone of lightning and steel, and now, the rooftop was a graveyard of bent rebar and crumbling concrete.
Ravenna coughed, brushing off ash from her chest, her suit scorched, lips split, blood in her mouth.
"Jace?" she rasped.
He lay a few feet away, dazed, one leg bent wrong, face cut open by shrapnel.
"I'm… not dead," he groaned. "But I want to be."
She crawled to him, fingers trembling.
He looked up at her, smiling through cracked lips. "Still hot."
She rolled her eyes, then kissed him—soft, bloody, desperate. "Don't die. Not yet."
"I'll try," he muttered. "But if you keep kissing me like that, I might explode."
Behind them, Echo stirred, buried beneath a heap of metal panels. Her hair glowed faintly, strands pulsing like living wires. Her breath was shallow, but steady.
Kellin, miraculously, was already on his knees, dragging himself toward the others with a broken arm and grit in his teeth.
"Anyone check if the tin man's really dead?" he croaked.
As if on cue, a faint whine came from the flames.
The Graveborn's ruined form twitched.
Sparks hissed.
Then silence.
Ravenna stood, limping toward the corpse. Her boot crushed fragments of scorched mask as she knelt beside what was left of him.
One eye was still active—glowing faint red, flickering.
She raised her blade.
"No second chances," she whispered—and plunged it deep through his remaining eye, severing the last thread of life.
This time, he didn't move.
Twenty minutes later, they found shelter inside an abandoned Spire safehouse, half-buried beneath the ruins of Dredge Level Nine.
The air was thick with oil, blood, and ozone. Power was intermittent. The lights flickered.
Jace lay shirtless on a ragged cot, bandages wrapped around his chest and thigh. Ravenna stood by the sink, washing her hands, her black tank clinging wetly to her curves, smeared with streaks of crimson and dirt.
"You should be resting," she said.
"I rest better when you're near," Jace replied, eyes watching her with heat that hadn't dulled despite the hell they'd survived.
She turned, walked toward him slowly—hips swaying, skin gleaming faintly in the broken light.
"You almost got yourself killed."
He grinned. "You're the one who kissed me."
"You were bleeding out."
"You still kissed me."
She knelt beside the cot, her fingers brushing over his chest, nails grazing the line of his collarbone.
"Maybe I wanted to remember what it felt like… before this all burns down."
He reached up, cupped her jaw.
"Then let's burn together."
Her lips met his—hot, commanding. No hesitancy now. She climbed on top of him, knees straddling his waist, hands tugging off the last of his bandages.
He gasped against her mouth as she pushed into him with her body—deliberate, slow. Every scar they bore, every pain, vanished in the fever between them.
She rocked against him, sharp breaths in his ear, nails digging into his shoulders. The cot creaked beneath them, muffled only by the distant echoes of sirens outside.
Jace kissed her throat, tracing her pulse with his tongue.
Ravenna moaned low, her forehead pressed to his, movements growing faster, rougher—like they were chasing life before death swallowed it whole.
She clenched around him, voice breaking in a whisper: "Jace…"
And then—release. Both of them collapsing into the sheets, tangled, breathless.
Later, lying on the floor in a haze of sweat and silence, Jace spoke.
"What now?"
Ravenna stared at the cracked ceiling.
"We find her," she said. "The woman behind the Graveborn. The one who gave the order to wipe Echo."
"Vex?"
Ravenna's jaw tightened. "Yeah. Vex."
Jace nodded. "You sure you're ready for that?"
She looked at him—fierce, scarred, and radiant even in ruin.
"I was born ready."
The silence in the safehouse was thick, like the city had paused to breathe before screaming again.
Ravenna sat on a crate, slowly reassembling her knife. Every movement was calculated—like ritual. Like prayer.
Jace had drifted into uneasy sleep, one arm across his face, gun still in hand.
Kellin was snoring on the floor nearby, bandages wrapped haphazardly like a half-drunk mummy.
Only Echo was awake.
She stood in the corner, staring into a flickering light panel like it whispered secrets only she could hear.
Her skin had stopped glowing.
But something had changed.
She was calm. Too calm.
"Echo," Ravenna called.
The girl didn't flinch. Just turned—mechanically. Her eyes weren't glassy or scared anymore.
They were calculating.
"I remember," she said, voice softer than breath, but heavy with something that made Ravenna stand slowly, every instinct waking like a sleeping knife.
"You remember what?"
"I wasn't made to run. I was made to hunt."
The room darkened—not from power loss, but from something else.
Something inside her.
The shadows on the walls twitched.
Jace stirred, eyes fluttering open as the air thickened.
Ravenna stepped forward. "Echo, it's me. You're safe now."
"I know," the girl replied. "That's why I can unlock the seal."
A low hum filled the room.
From her fingertips, faint blue lines began to crawl—circuit-like, crawling over her arms and chest.
Symbols—ancient, cryptic, forbidden.
Then her back arched, eyes rolled back, and she screamed.
The scream shattered a lightbulb. The wall cracked. Kellin woke with a jolt, grabbing his shotgun before falling on his ass.
"What the hell?!"
Jace was on his feet now, barely able to stand but holding his pistol steady.
"Don't shoot!" Ravenna barked.
But even she wasn't sure if that order would hold much longer.
Echo was floating—no wires, no tricks—three inches above the ground. Energy pulsed around her like a storm held in skin.
"I can see them," she whispered. "The Blood Court. The Choir of Steel. All of them. Watching."
Ravenna stepped forward slowly. "Who are you seeing?"
Echo turned her gaze on Ravenna. It wasn't a child's stare anymore.
It was a weapon's.
"They're not coming. They're already here."
A loud thud hit the roof.
Then another.
Heavy. Rhythmic. Like war drums.
Then a voice echoed down the stairwell.
"Ravenna Noir. Jace Cross. Release the girl, or the rest of the Spire burns."
Ravenna snarled. "Vex."
Echo's eyes glowed brighter.
"No," she said coldly. "Not Vex."
And then, in a voice layered with a thousand echoes, a name none of them recognized passed her lips:
"Sevrin."
Jace blinked. "What the fuck is Sevrin?"
Echo collapsed.
Ravenna caught her.
The lights came back on.
The hum stopped.
But none of them moved.
Because for the first time, even the mercenaries were afraid.
A hiss broke the silence.
Not metal. Not air.
Something breathing.
Jace raised his gun. "Movement, roof!"
Too late.
The ceiling collapsed in a violent roar, raining debris and steel down onto the safehouse. Figures dropped through the smoke—sleek, armored, near-silent. Chrome masks. No eyes. No emblems.
The Choir of Steel.
Vex's private assassins.
Ravenna pushed Echo down behind a crate and stood, twin pistols blazing. "Time to sing, bastards."
The first assassin moved faster than a blink, blade sweeping sideways. Ravenna ducked under it, slid along the floor, and came up behind him with a blade to his throat.
One down.
Jace took a shoulder hit but kept moving, unloading his clip into a figure mid-air. Three shots to the chest didn't slow it.
Fourth one hit the spine.
That worked.
"Two o'clock!" Kellin screamed, tossing a grenade.
BOOM.
The room shook.
One of the assassins landed beside Echo. She looked up—and screamed again.
The windows shattered outward. Sound ripped through the air like thunder clawing its way out of the abyss.
The assassin's armor peeled off his body, curling away from her like metal fearing god. His mask cracked. Blood gushed from his ears.
Then he dropped.
Dead.
"Fuck me," Kellin whispered, crawling backward.
"I'm trying to keep my pants on," Jace muttered, panting as he reloaded.
"Don't bother," Ravenna growled. "We're not making it out clean."
One of the remaining Choir agents spoke at last, voice like glass over gravel.
"You've already lost. The girl belongs to Sevrin."
Ravenna spat blood and laughed darkly. "Come take her then, tinhead."
They charged.
This time, it wasn't just guns and blades.
It was fury.
Jace ducked low, took out knees, disarmed one with a twist of the wrist, and snapped a neck before rolling to cover Ravenna's flank. He didn't need orders. They moved like instinct—predator and predator.
Ravenna leapt into the air, legs wrapping around an assassin's neck, twisting mid-flight and dragging him down with a crack. Her eyes were wild. Her grin was bloody.
Kellin got cut. Screamed. Kept shooting.
Then Echo stood.
And the room changed.
The temperature dropped. The lights dimmed again. Echo's feet hovered above the floor, her voice layered and ancient.
"You shouldn't have come here."
Every metal object began to vibrate—guns, knives, even the steel boots of the assassins.
Then they screamed.
Their armor imploded.
Bones snapped under pressure.
Blood sprayed the walls.
Then silence.
Utter silence.
The only sound left was Echo weeping softly.
She fell again.
Ravenna caught her.
Smoke curled through the room.
Jace stood frozen. "We need to leave. Now."
"No," Ravenna said. "We need answers."
She turned Echo's face to hers, wiping blood from her cheek.
"Who is Sevrin?"
Echo sobbed once… then whispered:
"My father."
__________
The sewers stank of blood and burned metal.
Kellin limped through the sludge, cradling his side. Jace dragged a busted pipe along the tunnel wall, every few steps tapping a rhythm—old soldier's habit. He always needed a beat.
Ravenna held Echo against her chest. The girl trembled, even unconscious, her breath ragged like torn silk. There were burn marks on her back, but no flame had touched her.
"She's changing," Jace murmured.
"No," Ravenna said, eyes locked ahead. "She's remembering."
They reached the bolted steel door hidden behind a rusted vent. Ravenna keyed in the code—one of her old dens.
The door hissed open.
Stale air. Flickering light.
Perfect.
Jace dropped his gear and cracked his neck. "Five Syndicate kill squads, two rogue drones, a Bloodhound, and the fucking Choir of Steel in twenty-four hours."
"You're getting soft," Ravenna said, checking her ammo.
"Getting old."
She gave him a look—part smirk, part threat. "You've always been old."
Jace stepped closer, until their bodies nearly touched. "Still fast enough to make you scream."
Her breath caught for just a beat. Then she stepped past him, brushing his chest with her shoulder. "We'll see."
Kellin collapsed on the nearest cot. "You two either need to screw or stab each other. Either way, I'm done guessing."
No one answered.
The door sealed behind them. Silence.
Ravenna walked to the sink, water creaking through rusted pipes. She let it run over her hands. Blood, Echo's tears, soot, all washing down the drain.
Jace leaned against the wall, watching her.
"You okay?" he asked, voice low.
"I haven't been okay since Prague."
She turned to him—eyes tired but burning.
"You left me. For what?"
He didn't move. "To save you."
"You saved your own skin, Jace."
"No," he said. "I did it so you wouldn't have to carry me when I broke."
Silence.
Then she stepped to him. Close. Closer.
She slapped him.
Hard.
His head snapped sideways—but he didn't react.
Then she kissed him.
Harder.
Their mouths clashed with fury. Teeth. Tongue. Years of betrayal burned out in heat. He gripped her waist, slammed her against the wall. Her legs wrapped around him.
Clothes peeled.
Leather. Sweat. Gun oil.
It wasn't love.
It was survival.
Her fingers dug into his back. His lips traced the scar across her ribs. They broke and rejoined, again and again, drowning in one another.
For now, they were alive.
And that was enough.
They lay on the floor later, tangled in sheets, breath slowing.
"You'll leave again," Ravenna whispered.
"Only if you make me."
She looked at him. "I just might."
Then Echo screamed.
They both shot up—naked, weapons drawn.
The lights flickered again.
On the far side of the room, Echo floated—eyes glowing, hair swirling like she was underwater. Symbols burned across her skin in white fire.
"She's... unlocking," Jace muttered.
"No," Ravenna said, sliding her blade into her hand. "She's becoming what they made her."
The symbols flared once.
Then Echo dropped, unconscious.
Ravenna caught her, heart pounding.
Jace knelt beside them, eyeing the girl's arms. "Those markings—I've seen them before. In Vex's lab. On the walls."
"What do they mean?"
He looked at her.
"They mean she's a weapon."
___________________________________________________________________________
Vanta Mire wasn't on any map.
Built inside the skeleton of a sunken refinery, it hung like a rotting lung beneath Deadman's City. Pipes hissed. Smog hung thick. Neon signs blinked over corpses. The Black Market here didn't sell things—it traded sins.
Jace hated this place.
"You sure he'll help?" he muttered, pulling his coat tight as they passed a screaming man nailed to a fence.
"He owes me," Ravenna replied, her hand brushing the hilt of her blade. "Or at least he fears me enough to pretend he does."
Echo stayed between them, hood over her glowing eyes. She hadn't spoken since the surge. But her presence buzzed. Like static before a lightning strike.
Inside the sprawl's central pit—beneath a thumping club called The Skinner's Lounge—they found him.
Dante Ryke.
Once Syndicate. Now a ghost in a velvet suit, running weapons and whispers for anyone with enough blood to pay.
He was sipping absinthe when he saw Ravenna.
"Well fuck me sideways," Dante said, rising. "The Red Sin herself. Thought you were dead."
"Not yet," she said, stepping close.
He leaned in to kiss her cheek.
She slapped him across the mouth.
Jace raised an eyebrow. "Is that how she greets all her exes?"
"No," Dante said, wiping blood from his lip. "Only the ones who lived."
They sat.
Deals were made. Weapons traded. Intel offered.
Then Echo twitched.
The room darkened.
Her hands trembled, and the symbols on her skin began to shimmer.
Ravenna reached for her.
"Echo... breathe."
But it was too late.
The power cracked.
BOOM.
The walls rippled. Light shattered.
Echo screamed—a sound like metal tearing.
Glass exploded outward. Dancers upstairs hit the floor. Dante dove behind a console.
Jace wrapped his arms around Ravenna and the girl, shielding them with his body.
Then—
Silence.
Smoke. Flickering lights.
Dante crawled out, coughing. "What in the bleeding hell is that kid?!"
"She's the future," Ravenna said, eyes blazing. "And if you want to live, you'll help us hide her."
Dante looked at her. Then Jace.
Then the glowing girl.
"…Alright. I know someone. But it'll cost you."
Jace stepped forward, gun cocked. "She's not currency."
Dante raised his hands. "Didn't say she was. But protection ain't free."
Ravenna turned. "We're not asking for protection."
Her voice dropped like a blade.
"We're starting a war."
Later that night
They rested in one of Dante's safe rooms—circular bed, black velvet sheets, moonlight through bulletproof glass.
Echo slept beside a humming generator.
Jace lit a cigarette.
Ravenna watched him from the shadows, wearing nothing but her holsters.
"I used to dream about killing you," she said softly.
He turned. "You still can."
She approached. "Now I just dream about breaking you."
She climbed onto the bed—slow, sensual, like a predator stalking prey.
"Tell me, Cross... are you still mine?"
He looked up at her, heat rising behind those calm eyes.
"I never stopped being."
She kissed him hard. Then soft. Then not at all.
Just breathe on skin. A knife across his chest—not cutting, just tracing.
"You lie so well," she whispered.
"So do you."
Their bodies locked again—less rage now, more hunger. Familiar. Addictive. Like the city itself.
And when it was over, she lay on his chest, breathing shallow.
For once, no one spoke.
Until Echo stirred.
And the power inside her reached out again.
This time… it touched Ravenna.
And showed her a vision.
Of a man made of wires and flame.
Standing over the ruins of Deadman's City.
Holding Jace's skull in one hand.
Ravenna sat bolt upright.
Sweat clung to her bare shoulders. The vision burned behind her eyes like acid.
Jace stirred beside her. "What is it?"
She didn't answer. Just got up. Grabbed her knives. Pulled on black pants and holsters like armor.
Jace followed her to the mirror. "You saw something, didn't you?"
She turned slowly. "A future."
He frowned. "One we die in?"
She gave a bitter smile. "You. In flames. Your skull in someone's hand."
Echo stood in the doorway, her eyes wide. "I didn't mean to show you. I'm sorry."
Jace stepped forward. "Who did it? Who was in the vision?"
Ravenna didn't blink.
"He wasn't Syndicate."
Echo spoke, voice fragile. "He called himself the Seraphim Core. Said the city belongs to him. That we're the last mistake."
Jace swore.
Ravenna just stared out the bulletproof window at the sleeping monster of the city beyond.
"Then we kill him first," she whispered.
The next day, Dante's Lab
Machines hummed. Weapon racks lined the walls—plasma rifles, smartblades, sonic mines. Echo sat in a field of rotating glyphs, her body calm, eyes closed.
She was meditating.
Or maybe suppressing a nuclear warhead inside her soul.
Dante paced.
"I ran your ghost's name through every undernet whisper net I know. The Seraphim Core doesn't exist."
Jace looked at Ravenna. "Means he's real."
Ravenna nodded. "The deadliest men always are."
Dante pointed at Echo. "That girl—she's got Aether Tech in her blood. Pre-Fall tech. Stuff we thought got vaporized when Earth fractured."
"She's not a weapon," Jace snapped.
"Then she's a bomb."
Ravenna gripped Dante's throat before he could blink, slamming him into a steel wall.
"She's ours. You breathe that idea again, and I'll find out what color your spine is."
Dante choked. "Copy that."
She let him go.
Jace turned to Echo, voice gentler. "You okay?"
The girl opened her eyes.
"Something's wrong in the city," she said.
And then they heard it.
Sirens.
All of them.
Every single emergency frequency in Deadman's City lit up at once.
And then—on every screen, every tower, every speaker—a voice echoed through the city:
"Surrender the girl, or the city burns."
Downtown. Ten Minutes Later.
The skyline was on fire.
Syndicate drones. Mercenary armies. Bio-enhanced reapers. Everyone wanted her.
And at the front of the army—hovering in a white exo-suit shaped like an angel made of metal—was Seraphim Core.
He didn't speak.
He just raised his hand and pointed at the hideout.
Hell broke loose.
Inside the safehouse, Ravenna clicked ammo into her pistols.
Jace cracked his knuckles, checking the edge on a vibroblade.
Echo stood still, scared but calm.
"You don't have to fight," Ravenna told the girl.
"I know," Echo whispered. "But I want to."
Jace smiled. "You really are one of us."
Outside, explosions bloomed. Dante screamed from the upper level. "They're breaching!"
Ravenna kissed Jace—fast, brutal. "We make it through this?"
"Maybe," he said, licking blood from his lip. "But if not..."
She smirked. "Then we make sure they don't either."
The walls shattered.
The fight began.
Syndicate elite dropped through the ceiling—white armor, shock cannons. Ravenna moved like poetry in a warzone, knives singing, bodies dropping in elegant ruin.
Jace fought beside her, taking hits, returning them harder. At one point, he caught a rifle, broke it in half, and stabbed a man with the barrel.
Echo knelt, hands glowing.
And then she unleashed it.
Aether lightning surged from her fingers—silent, violet-blue tendrils tearing through steel and circuitry. The invaders screamed as their tech fried.
Ravenna turned mid-slash.
The girl was glowing.
Hovering.
Hair floating like smoke.
Eyes like twin novas.
Even Jace stepped back.
Echo opened her mouth—and a wordless pulse flattened the entire squad trying to breach the eastern wall.
Dust.
Ravenna caught her as she collapsed. "You okay?"
The girl smiled faintly. "Learning."
Outside, Seraphim Core watched through scanners.
And for the first time... he frowned.
The safehouse burned behind them.
Ravenna's arm was slashed open, blood soaking into the torn sleeve of her combat gear. Jace limped slightly, dragging a half-spent plasma rifle. Echo was quiet, nestled between them like a live grenade in human skin.
The alley twisted ahead. Smoke coiled above rooftops like demons taking flight. Ravenna sniffed—chemfire and ozone. Bodies littered the ground, some twitching, others already cold.
They reached Dante's extraction point: a gutted subway station.
Jace kicked open a hatch behind a collapsed kiosk. "This tunnel leads to Old Sector. No drones there. Too dead to track."
Echo's voice was small. "It's quiet."
Jace grunted. "That's what worries me."
Ravenna hesitated, gaze locked on the flickering city above.
Jace touched her hand. "We can't save them all."
"I don't want to save them," she whispered. "I want to burn the ones who did this."
Old Sector
The tunnel spat them out into what once had been a cathedral. Graffiti covered shattered icons. Pews burned in smoldering piles. Neon fungus pulsed in the cracks of marble.
Dante was waiting, tapping on a holopad. "You were supposed to be here ten minutes ago."
Ravenna glared. "We were making art."
Echo walked past him. She went straight to the altar.
A woman was waiting.
Old. Blind. Wrapped in rags made from Syndicate flags.
Dante gestured. "Meet Mother Cyan. She used to lead the Wretches."
Cyan didn't look up. Her voice was sandpaper on steel. "I see you brought her. The Aether Child."
Ravenna stepped between them. "She's not for sale. Not for prophecy."
Cyan smiled. "She's not a prophecy. She's a key."
"To what?" Jace asked.
"To the door you don't want opened."
Then Echo whispered, her voice not her own:
"Seraphim Core was born beneath the cathedral. And he's coming home."
Elsewhere, beneath the ruins of the Syndicate tower…
Seraphim Core stood shirtless in a pool of bioluminescent nanites. His skin glowed like carved ivory. Wings of segmented metal flared behind him. His mouth split into a smile made of razors.
"They woke her up," he said.
A man behind him trembled. "Should we deploy the Choir?"
Seraphim turned. "Deploy everything."
He raised his hand—and from beneath the surface, massive machines began to stir. Golems of metal. Aerial beasts forged from ruined satellites. Old gods with new names.
"And bring me my throne," he added, quietly. "It's time Deadman's City remembered who it belongs to."
Back in Old Sector…
The team rested in silence. Ravenna leaned against a wall, dressing her wound with whiskey and gauze. Jace sat nearby, his coat torn open, showing off a dozen bruises and two deep cuts. He lit a smoke, handed one to her.
She took it without looking.
He nodded at Echo. "She's more than we thought."
"She's a weapon," Ravenna said flatly.
"No. She's hope."
Ravenna laughed, dark and low. "Hope doesn't detonate half a city block."
He leaned in. "Maybe it needs to."
She met his eyes. Their faces close. His breath warm on her cheek.
"Don't," she said.
He brushed hair from her face. "I'm already gone, Rav."
And then his lips were on hers.
No caution. No permission.
Just fire.
She didn't resist.
Her fingers gripped his belt, pulling him between her thighs. He growled into her mouth.
The wall was cold against her back. His hands were hot, unrelenting. Her shirt peeled away. She bit his lip and he bled, but didn't stop.
He never stopped.
Not for her.
Not now.
Not when their world was ending.
The walls moaned as though the city itself felt what was coming.
Jace's bare chest pressed against Ravenna's as they kissed like war—hot, desperate, and without peace. She slid her fingers into his hair, yanked his head back, and bit down on his throat hard enough to draw blood. He didn't flinch. He smiled.
"You're still angry," he whispered.
"I'm still bleeding," she replied.
And then she shoved him.
Onto the altar.
He landed hard, grinning up at her. "Goddamn."
She straddled him, yanked his belt free, gun still holstered at her thigh. "You want redemption?"
"I want you."
"Then bleed for it."
She rode him like vengeance. No softness. Just friction, heat, and that low snarl in her throat. Her body a battlefield, and he welcomed the pain.
Candles guttered around them. Echo sat in the corner, silent, back turned, fingers pressed to her temples like she could feel every broken piece of desire echoing through the old cathedral walls.
Dante walked in halfway, saw them, and walked right back out. "Nope," he muttered. "Ain't touching that storm."
Meanwhile, inside the Spire of Silence...
Seraphim Core stood at the edge of the city's tallest ruin, arms outstretched.
Around him, choir drones chanted in digital harmony. Their voices weren't human. They were data—echoed prayers to the old gods of violence.
He spoke into the storm.
"Bring me the Aether Child. And anyone who stands in her defense… burn them."
Back in Old Sector…
Ravenna dressed slowly, her body still buzzing from the high. Jace leaned against the altar, breathing heavy, cigarette between bloody fingers.
"That supposed to be an apology?" he asked.
She zipped her top up, face unreadable. "That was a warning."
He laughed.
Then the cathedral shook.
Mother Cyan staggered into the sanctuary, eyes wide. "They found us. The Choir is coming."
Ravenna's smile returned. Cold. Beautiful.
"Finally," she said. "Let's see if their god can bleed."
Jace tossed her a new mag. She caught it without looking.
Outside, sirens screamed like dying angels.
Echo stood tall now, eyes glowing faintly.
"I remember," she said.
Jace asked, "What do you remember?"
"The place they built me. The name they gave me."
Ravenna's voice was low. "And what name was that?"
Echo turned.
"Zero-One."
Across Deadman's City, drones deployed. Gunships howled over rooftops. Syndicate banners fell. The city was preparing for war.
And in the heart of the coming storm, a woman in blood-stained black, a broken man with fire in his eyes, and a girl who could tear open time… waited.
Together.
The alley reeked of gunpowder and engine oil. Ravenna crouched over the unconscious girl, eyes darting back to the mouth of the alley where black shapes gathered—Syndicate operatives in full gear, their masks reflecting red in the drizzle.
Jace was already moving, scooping up Kellin with one arm, rifle clutched in the other. "We can't run with her in that state," he snapped. "We're dragging a damn ticking time bomb!"
Ravenna's gaze cut toward the girl. The glow in her eyes had faded, but a faint shimmer still pulsed beneath her skin like embers under ash. Something inhuman. Something engineered.
"She's not a bomb," Ravenna muttered. "She's a code."
"A code that'll get us slaughtered."
Above them, a drone zipped past with a sharp mechanical whine, scanning the wreckage. Ravenna dragged the girl behind a rusted dumpster and knelt beside her, fingers pressed against the girl's neck.
Still breathing. Barely.
The girl's lips moved, faint, like a dream. "...Golgo...tha..."
Jace heard it too. "She said Golgotha."
Ravenna's blood ran cold.
Golgotha—not just a place. Not anymore. It was a digital afterlife. A closed network once designed to house AI constructs and neural backups... until it was corrupted, hijacked by the Syndicate, and turned into a prison for stolen minds.
Ravenna rose slowly. "We're not leaving her."
Jace gave her that look—that "you're out of your damn mind" look—but he didn't argue. Not with the sky boiling above them and death knocking on their back door.
A loud metallic thunk echoed from the alley entrance.
Grenade.
"Down!" Jace roared, throwing his coat over Ravenna and the girl just as the blast ripped the air apart.
Concrete cracked. Flames licked the walls. A hot wind shoved them hard against the pavement.
Ravenna rolled, coughing smoke. "We need to move. Now!"
She slung the girl over her shoulder with surprising ease, body tensing from the strain. Jace fired blind cover rounds as they darted through the fire-washed alley, feet pounding soaked asphalt.
They burst into a side street, neon signs flickering above ruined storefronts. The city screamed with chaos now—sirens, gunfire, crashing steel.
Deadman's City was coming alive.
Thirty Minutes Later
The hideout was buried beneath a collapsed subway tunnel in Zone 12, masked by derelict trains and static fields. No drones could scan it. No Syndicate eyes could reach it.
Inside, it was dim and quiet. Red emergency lights lined the ceiling like arteries.
Ravenna laid the girl on a makeshift cot. Her breathing was shallow, skin glowing faintly again. Her veins pulsed with gold.
"What the hell did they put inside her?" Jace muttered, pulling a ragged blanket over her. "She doesn't even have a heartbeat half the time."
"She's not fully human," Ravenna said. "Not anymore. Maybe never was."
She moved to the sink and splashed water on her face, blood and ash washing down the drain.
Behind her, Jace leaned against the wall, watching.
"You're not the woman I left behind," he said softly.
She dried her face, not turning. "You're not the man I trusted."
Silence stretched. Heavy. Raw.
Jace stepped closer, slow, deliberate. "But you still feel it. Don't lie to me."
She turned, eyes dark. "I feel everything. That's the curse."
Then he kissed her.
Hard. Desperate.
She kissed him back.
For a moment, the city didn't exist. No Syndicate. No girl. No betrayal.
Just mouths. Hands. Heat.
She ripped open his shirt, fingers trailing scars she knew too well. He pushed her against the wall, lips on her throat. Her moan was a threat and a surrender all at once.
Clothes fell like memories—fast and furious. Their bodies collided, tangled, claimed.
She straddled him on the old mattress, hips grinding slow, measured. Her hands pinned his wrists, blade-edge pressure reminding him who still held the leash.
"Don't think this means I forgive you," she growled, biting his jaw.
"I wouldn't dare," he panted.
They moved together like old rhythms rediscovered—rough, hungry, aching.
When it was over, they lay still, sweat-slicked and silent.
But the girl—she was sitting up.
Eyes glowing brighter now.
Watching.
"She saw everything," Ravenna said, breathless.
"She remembers everything," Jace corrected, voice grim.
The girl opened her mouth.
Her voice was different this time. Not hers.
Deeper. Older.
"Echo is falling."
Jace sat up. "Who's speaking through her?"
"Not speaking," the girl replied. "Uploading."
Suddenly, the room flickered.
Lights dimmed. Screens across the wall came alive, scrolling code, screaming data.
The girl collapsed backward, body twitching. Something ancient was bleeding into her.
Ravenna gripped her blade, panic edging her voice. "What the hell is Golgotha doing?!"
Jace stood, grabbing a flash-drive implant from the nearby drawer. "We need to sever the sync."
Too late.
The girl's eyes snapped open—and this time, her voice wasn't hers at all.
"I am the last gate.
You broke me open.
Now... they come.**"
The screen behind them exploded in static.
And in the darkness, from deep underground... something answered.
The screens flickered violently, a sharp buzz filling the room like the whine of an old god waking from digital sleep. Each monitor bled data, ancient glyphs weaving over the glass in gold and crimson—symbols not meant for human minds.
Ravenna took a slow step back, her blade hanging loose at her side. The air tasted metallic. Cold.
The girl—Echo—lay motionless, but her chest pulsed with unnatural light. Her veins lit up in intervals, running like circuits beneath her skin.
Jace moved without words. He grabbed the insulated tether cable from the wall and crouched beside her, sweat glistening along his jaw.
"Rav," he said, not looking up, "If she starts seizing again, you need to hold her down."
"Hold her?" Ravenna said, voice like steel. "She's channeling something ancient. I'm not sure even we can contain it."
A low hum began to rise. The sound of data screaming.
Then Echo's eyes opened—full gold, glowing with something far beyond electricity.
The walls around them groaned.
The city above moaned.
"I... see it all," she whispered.
"The murders in the code. The shadows in the net. The betrayal of the core."
Ravenna tensed. "Who are you seeing?"
Echo blinked. Tears rolled from her eyes, glowing like fireflies.
"Everyone. Everything.
There is no privacy in Golgotha.
Only mirrors. Broken mirrors."
Suddenly, her voice fractured—cracking like glass in a furnace.
Jace reached for her hand—but her body arched, spine lifting from the mattress, limbs stiff as iron.
The scream that tore out of her wasn't human.
Ravenna lunged forward, dropping the knife and grabbing Echo's wrists. Her muscles locked against the girl's flailing strength. Electricity coursed through Echo's skin—hot and alive.
"She's synching again!" Jace shouted. "Her cortex is overheating!"
Ravenna's teeth grit. "Cut the stream!"
"I can't. Golgotha has override!"
Outside, the ground rumbled. The lights above cracked—pop, pop—sparks raining onto the floor.
Ravenna forced the girl down, pressed her forehead against Echo's like she was holding a sister through a nightmare.
"You're not alone," she whispered. "You hear me? Stay with me."
For a second, just a heartbeat, Echo's glow dimmed.
And her voice, now her own, returned.
"...don't let it eat me... please..."
Then she passed out.
The screens went black.
Silence returned like a verdict.
Jace let out a breath, collapsed backward against the metal cabinet, heart hammering loud in his ribs.
"What the hell was that?" he muttered.
Ravenna stood slowly, watching the girl. Her own arms trembled, chest heaving from the effort.
"Golgotha tried to hijack her body. Maybe her soul too."
Jace's eyes narrowed. "You believe that? That the thing has a soul?"
Ravenna stared at the glowing threads under Echo's skin. Then at the monitors. Then up—toward the crumbling ceiling and the digital storm gathering above Deadman's City.
"I don't know what I believe anymore," she whispered.
Hours Later
The rain hadn't stopped. It carved lines through the cracked skylight and hissed softly onto the concrete floor.
Ravenna lay on the cot beside Echo, not touching, just watching.
The girl slept now—peaceful, for the first time.
Jace sat nearby, polishing his weapon. His shirt was half-buttoned, chest still slick from earlier, his body carrying the scent of sweat, gunpowder, and her.
She hadn't spoken since the upload.
He hadn't pushed her.
But the tension crackled between them like live wire.
Finally, she rose. Walked over. Stopped in front of him, bare feet soundless on the floor.
He looked up, eyes tired but wanting.
She lowered herself to his lap, legs straddling him slowly.
Their lips met again—but softer this time. Sadder.
Not lust. Not just survival.
This was the kiss of broken people needing warmth.
Their bodies moved in silence, her hips grinding slowly, his hands cradling her thighs like she was glass that could still shatter.
The cot creaked.
The rain moaned.
And when it was done, they didn't separate.
They just sat there.
Wrapped in each other.
Waiting for the next fire.
Later That Night
The wind howled like sirens through the broken slats of the safehouse windows. Outside, Deadman's City bled neon into the fog, shadows of patrol drones weaving like specters between ruined rooftops. A Syndicate surveillance blimp pulsed overhead, its searchlight casting slow-moving halos over the tenement blocks.
Inside, Ravenna sat alone on the edge of the cot, her body wrapped in a black thermal robe, the front parted just enough to expose one bruised thigh. She was staring out the cracked window, a half-lit cigarette forgotten between her fingers.
Jace stirred behind her, shirtless, the sheet pooling low on his waist.
"You're not sleeping," he said.
She exhaled smoke through her nose. "Can't."
"Nightmares?"
"No. Worse." Her voice was cold. "Memories."
Jace stood, walked up behind her. His hands found her shoulders—massaging slow, deliberate circles into the tension that lived there.
She didn't stop him.
"You ever think about how it used to be?" she asked.
"Before everything turned to shit."
He didn't answer at first.
Then: "Yeah. Every time I close my eyes."
She nodded once, just barely. Then dropped the cigarette and stood—turning to face him.
For a moment, their eyes locked.
Something unspoken passed between them.
Not lust.
Not love.
A shared, aching need.
Without a word, Ravenna slid the robe from her shoulders.
The fabric fell like silk to the floor.
Her body was a roadmap of pain—scars, burns, bullet trails—but still goddamn divine. Her skin gleamed in the low light, lit by the neon glow filtering through the window.
Jace didn't move.
Didn't speak.
She stepped toward him, slow and predatory. A jungle cat. A goddess of vengeance. She pressed her palm to his chest, fingers dragging down the ridges of muscle, over the tattoo of a fallen brother on his ribs.
Then she pushed him back onto the cot.
And climbed over him.
The rain beat harder on the roof.
And below, in the distant streets, the screams of another raid echoed through the night.
But here—in this moment—they were safe.
Here, Ravenna rode the storm.
Meanwhile…
Two blocks west, in the burnt shell of an old bank, another kind of storm was gathering.
A man in a white suit stood in the vault, staring at a hologram projected in mid-air.
It was Echo's face.
Glowing.
Awake.
Terrified.
Behind him, a dozen Syndicate officers stood rigid.
The man turned.
He wore no insignia. No name tag.
Only a golden brooch shaped like a wasp pinned to his lapel.
"The girl is awake," he said, voice slick and venomous.
"She knows everything."
No one dared speak.
He turned back to the image. Watched the pulsing lights in Echo's eyes.
"She's not just a conduit," he murmured. "She's the goddamn key."
He smiled.
"I want her alive," he said. "But I want her bleeding."
The officers saluted.
The hunt had begun.
Back at the Safehouse — 3:19 AM
Ravenna sat against the wall, legs crossed, her skin still slick with sweat. Jace dozed lightly on the cot, his chest rising and falling.
Echo stirred.
She sat up slowly—eyes wide, heart pounding.
"Did I…" she began, voice dry as ash. "Did I kill anyone?"
Ravenna walked over, handed her a cup of water. "No. Not yet."
The girl drank. Her hands trembled.
"I felt it. All of it. The data. The people. Like... like they're trapped in the machine."
Ravenna knelt beside her. "What did it show you?"
"Everything." Echo's eyes filled with tears. "The city's future. Its death. My death."
Jace sat up now, alert. "You saw your death?"
Echo nodded slowly. "And yours."
She looked directly at Ravenna.
"But not his."
Ravenna's jaw tightened. "Whose?"
Echo's voice was barely a whisper.
"The man with the wasp pin."
A chill ran through the room.
Ravenna stood, grabbed her weapons. "We move now."
Jace's voice came hard. "Where?"
She looked at Echo.
"Wherever they buried the truth."
Ravenna's boots thudded against concrete as she led them into the old metro tunnels—Echo limping behind her, Jace bringing up the rear with his pistol drawn.
Every wall was sprayed with graffiti. Most of it warnings. Some of it prayers.
But one symbol appeared again and again: the wasp.
The air was wet and foul. Far off, something metal clanged. Then another sound—quieter, sharper.
Breathing.
Not theirs.
A shadow moved.
Jace aimed. "We're not alone."
Before anyone could speak, a red laser dot danced across Echo's chest.
"DOWN!" Ravenna screamed—
Gunfire erupted.
The tunnels roared alive with Syndicate hounds.
And just like that, the truth they were chasing finally came for them.