Sasha POV:

The restraints were gone.

Not that it made much of a difference.

Sasha was still trapped.

She sat on the edge of the medical bed, wrists aching, cyberware still lagging from trauma. The painkillers they pumped into her dulled the worst of it, but she still felt like she’d been through a shredder.

Across the room, Elias Novák watched her.

His suit was Biotechnica green-corporate, pressed, but slightly rumpled. He looked like a man who had been working too long, running on too little.

He didn’t look like someone about to put a bullet in her head.

But he didn’t look like someone who saved people for free, either.

Sasha let the silence stretch. Let him be the one to break first.

Finally, he sighed. Rubbed his temple like this conversation was already a headache.

“You want to know why you’re still breathing.”

Sasha scoffed. “Lemme guess. You’re gonna say you saw potential. That I’m a valuable asset. That I could be useful to you.”

Elias didn’t smirk. Didn’t deny it.

He just sighed.

Something about that was worse.

“You weren’t supposed to make it out of that building.” His tone was calm, steady-too steady. “And I was never supposed to interfere.”

Her jaw clenched.

“But I did.” He leaned forward slightly, voice flat. “Call it a mistake. A lapse in judgment.”

A pause.

"One good deed, buried under everything else I've done."

Sasha didn’t blink.

He didn’t say what he’d done. Didn’t need to.

A corpo like him, sitting at the top of Biotechnica’s security division? He’d signed plenty of death warrants.

And now, for some reason, hers wasn’t one of them.

Elias exhaled, slow and measured. “You think exposing Securicine did something. That you hurt Biotechnica.” He tilted his head slightly. “You didn’t.”

Sasha’s fingers curled into her palms.

“The stock dipped for a day,” he continued. “Maybe two. Then it stabilized. The board made a few statements. Investors moved on.”

His voice was steady. Cold. Not mocking, not cruel-just stating a fact.

“You didn’t burn the house down, Sasha. You knocked over a chair.”

The words hit harder than she wanted them to.

Because deep down, she already knew he was right.

Elias watched her reaction carefully. “The corps don’t lose,” he said. “You might land a hit. Might shake things up. But in the end?” He leaned back slightly. “They survive. And you don’t.”

Sasha forced herself to hold his gaze.

“So what?” she said, voice low. “I should’ve just kept my head down? Let them get away with it?”

Elias exhaled through his nose. Not quite a sigh. Not quite frustration.

“They didn’t get away with it completely though.”

That made her pause.

He leaned back, rubbing his knuckles against his palm absently. “Your leak forced them to make changes. Securicine’s replacement is being pushed up the timetable. New formula, new branding. Damage control.” His voice was flat. “You traded your life for management to slightly move a deadline.”

Sasha’s breath hitched.

Elias nodded, like he already knew exactly what was going through her head. “They can’t afford a full recall. Too much loss, too much liability. So they do the next best thing-act like they’re fixing it while squeezing out as much profit as they can before the new version drops.”

Sasha’s nails dug into her palms.

Elias let the silence settle for a moment before speaking again.

“You hurt them,” he admitted. “Not enough to stop them. But enough to make them adjust.” His fingers drummed once against the desk. “And that’s more than most people ever get.”

Sasha swallowed.

Her rage hadn’t faded. If anything, it burned hotter.

But it was different now.

She had been so sure that exposing the truth would mean something. That people would care. That Biotechnica would have no choice but to answer for what they did.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

And now, staring at the man across from her-a man who had seen how the system worked from the inside-she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was always how it was going to go.

Not a victory.

Just a recalculation.

Her voice was quiet when she spoke. “So what? I try again? Keep pushing ‘til they stop for real?”

Elias’s expression didn’t change.

“No. You protect the people who actually matter.”

Sasha stilled.

“You’re not gonna stop Biotechnica,” he said. “You know it. I know it. But your sister? Maine? Dorio? Rebecca?” His gaze was sharp. “They’re not untouchable. And you don’t get to fight for them if you’re dead.”

Her throat tightened.

He kept going.

“You think Maine’s crew is gonna run jobs forever without stepping on the wrong toes?” Elias tilted his head. “Maybe not Biotechnica. But Militech, Arasaka, Zetatech? You really think none of them are gonna decide they’re a problem someday?”

Sasha’s hands curled into fists.

And then-the worst part.

“Your sister Stella’s already a target,” Elias said, voice quieter. “She just doesn’t know it yet.”

Sasha looked up sharply.

Elias didn’t blink. “She’s an honest cop in a city where those don’t last long. You think she’s gonna retire quietly? That no one’s keeping tabs on her?”

Sasha’s jaw clenched.

He exhaled, rubbing his fingers against his temple like he was already tired of this conversation.

“You wanna keep fighting? Fine. But don’t do it for a fucking company.” His gaze met hers, steady, unwavering. “Do it for the people who’d actually fight for you.”

Sasha looked away.

She hated that she understood exactly what he meant.

She hated that he was right.

She took a slow breath. “And if I say no?”

Elias leaned back, resting against the chair.

“You leave,” he said simply. “No money, no backup. And I don’t lift a finger when someone eventually realizes Biotechnica’s least favorite netrunner is still breathing.”

His voice was flat. Not a threat. Just a fact.

Sasha swallowed hard.

She wanted to fight. Wanted to find some third option, some way out of this that didn’t involve chaining herself to a corpo or dying in a gutter.

But there wasn’t one.

Her heart pounded in her ears.

And when she finally spoke, her voice was quiet.

“…What’s the first step?”

Elias exhaled, barely audible. Not relief, not victory. Just resignation.

He stood, adjusting his sleeves.

“We rebuild you,” he said. “New face. New name. New life.” His eyes met hers, something unreadable behind them. “Starting now.”

1 week later

The North Oak Columbarium was quiet.

Not silent-Night City never was. Even here, where people came to mourn, the distant hum of AVs and the low chatter of passing visitors filled the air.

Sasha stood near the entrance, hood up, head down, blending in. The columbarium stretched out in front of her, row after row of engraved niches, each one holding a name, a memory, a story no one would tell again.

And there, among them-

Yakovleva, S.

Small. Unremarkable. Nestled between the names of corpos, mercs, and people Night City had long since forgotten.

She had seen her own death in headlines. "Mercenary Netrunner Killed in Biotechnica Raid." No real details. Nothing about why she had done it. Just a name in the system, tied to a failed job.

They thought Biotechnica had her body. Standard corpo procedure. No funeral. No casket. Just a claim, a report, and a quiet cremation, her ashes locked away behind cold, numbered walls.

That was the story.

The truth?

There was nothing to bury.

Elias had made sure of that.

She had told herself not to come. Too risky. Too reckless. But the thought of never seeing it-never knowing who would even show up-had been worse.

So she watched.

Maine stood near her plaque, arms crossed, shoulders tense. Not saying anything. Just staring.

Dorio stood beside him, hand resting on his arm, grounding him.

Rebecca lingered a few steps back, shifting her weight, arms crossed tight over her chest. Not crying. Just angry.

Pilar wasn’t there. No surprise.

And then there was Stella.

She stood apart from the crew, hands in her coat pockets, face unreadable.

Sasha exhaled slowly, popping a piece of bubblegum into her mouth.

She had thought about leaving a message. Something. A sign.

But she knew it wouldn’t work.

She was dead now.

That was the deal.

Maine didn’t say anything. Didn’t move for a long time. Then, finally, he turned and walked away.

Rebecca muttered something under her breath and followed.

Dorio was the last to leave.

Except for Stella.

She didn’t move.

Sasha clenched her jaw. This was stupid. She should leave. But instead, she took a step forward.

Then another.

She stopped a few feet away, still close enough to be heard.

Stella glanced at her, expression wary. "You here for someone?"

Sasha rolled her gum over her tongue. Carefully. "Yeah."

Stella nodded toward the plaque. "Knew her?"

Sasha hesitated. Then, slowly, she nodded. "Something like that."

Stella studied her.

Too long.

Sasha forced herself to hold still, to keep her expression unreadable. She had spent years lying to corpos, to fixers, to mercs. But Stella?

Stella had always been harder.

“They didn’t even let me see her,” Stella muttered, looking back at the plaque. “Just said she was gone. Cremated. Security risk. You believe that?”

Sasha chewed her gum slowly. “Corps don’t care about what we believe.”

Stella huffed out a dry laugh. “Yeah. Guess not.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Sasha reached into her pocket, pulled out her pack of gum, slid out a piece, and held it out.

Stella blinked.

Then, after a pause, she took it.

A brief exchange. Nothing more.

But as Stella unwrapped the gum, popping it into her mouth, her shoulders eased. Just a little.

Sasha exhaled, chewing slowly.

She couldn’t tell Stella the truth.

She couldn’t say, I made it out. I’m alive.

But maybe-just for a moment-she could pretend she wasn’t a ghost.

“Take care of yourself,” Sasha muttered, turning to leave.

Stella didn’t stop her. Didn’t ask for a name.

She just stood there, chewing, watching Sasha walk away.

And as Sasha stepped into the waiting car, disappearing back into the city, she wondered-

Had Stella felt it?

That flicker of familiarity, that instinct buried deep?

Had she known-even for just a second-who she had really been talking to?