Jenny flinched as the sharp, commanding voice echoed through the cavernous ruins. She spun toward the source, her knife already in hand. Reed was beside her, his rifle raised and steady, his finger hovering near the trigger. The firelight flickered off the enormous figure stepping into view, an axe resting casually on her shoulder as if it were an extension of herself.
“And who. The hell. Are you?” The woman’s tone was calm but carried an edge sharp enough to cut through stone.
Reed took a small step forward, his hands tightening on the rifle. “Uh, scavengers,” he said, his voice carefully neutral. “Not a crime last I checked.”
Jenny pointed her knife toward the Bunker door behind them. “We need to get in there.”
The woman didn’t flinch. Her eyes narrowed as she shifted her stance slightly, pointing the axe at the entrance. “Oh no, you’re not opening that thing.” Then, almost to herself, she added, “Well, I haven’t decided yet!”
Jenny’s brow furrowed, glancing quickly at Reed before snapping back to the stranger. “And who the hell are you? What are you doing here?”
The woman tilted her head slightly, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I have... a mission,” she said, though the hesitation in her voice belied her certainty.
Jenny didn’t wait for elaboration. “Well, I have a mission too,” she countered, her voice gaining heat. “Those are my people inside. And we have to open this thing.”
The stranger’s grip on her axe shifted, her knuckles whitening slightly. “My mission,” she said carefully, “is not to let anyone or anything out of this cursed place.”
The tension thickened like the dust in the air. Reed shifted his weight, his rifle still poised but his attention drifting toward the massive Bunker door. A faint hum reached his ears, then a flicker of light from the base of the door.
“Girls,” he muttered, his voice low.
Neither of them turned. The verbal sparring continued, their tones rising with each retort.
“Girls!” he tried again, louder this time.
Still no reaction. He scowled and tilted the barrel of his rifle upward, pulling the trigger. The loud crack shattered the argument, and a plume of plaster rained down from the ceiling, catching him square on the head.
“Damn it,” he muttered, spitting dust and brushing off his shoulders. “Look!” He pointed with the rifle toward the Bunker door, which had begun to emit a faint mechanical whir. “That thing’s doing something.”
All three froze, their gazes snapping toward the circular entrance. The machinery groaned, a cacophony of grinding gears and hissing pneumatics filling the air. Lights along the perimeter flickered to life, their cold, sterile glow a stark contrast to the warm firelight of the ruins.
Jenny swallowed hard, her grip tightening on the knife. “What the hell is happening?” she whispered.
The stranger with the axe took a step closer, her expression hardening. “We’re about to find out.”
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The grinding of machinery reached a crescendo as the massive Bunker door completed its rotation. The ceiling fragment that had seemed like an obstacle moments ago shifted in perfect unison, revealing itself to be a carefully engineered part of the mechanism. Dust settled as the setup’s true purpose became clear—nothing had ever been in the way of opening the Bunker door.
From the doorway, a group emerged: four figures clad in pristine, high-tech uniforms, each armed with sleek rifles that gleamed in the dim light. They moved with a precision that suggested extensive training. Behind them, a fifth figure appeared—a man who immediately commanded attention.
He wore a casual jacket over a fitted shirt, the simplicity of his attire contrasting sharply with the advanced gear of his entourage. His weathered face bore the lines of a man who had seen more than his share of battles, but his sharp, assessing eyes radiated intelligence and control. His silver-streaked hair was neatly combed back, and his strong jawline lent him an air of unshakable confidence.
Though his posture was relaxed, every movement carried purpose, as if the entire world existed on his terms. His presence wasn’t loud or ostentatious—it was the kind of quiet authority that made people stop and listen without needing to raise a voice.
“My, my,” the man said, his voice smooth and amused as his eyes settled on Jenny. “If it isn’t Genevieve Briggs. All grown up.” His gaze dipped to her harness and the absence of her right arm. “Almost.”
Jenny’s jaw tightened, but before she could respond, Reed snorted quietly beside her, unable to suppress a chuckle. “Genevieve? Really?”
She shot him a glare. “Ugh, shut up.”
The man continued, unfazed by their exchange. His eyes scanned the group, lingering briefly on Reed and Vigdis. “And I see we have some prime examples of the local fauna. Charming.”
Jenny squared her shoulders, her grip tightening on the knife at her side. “Do I know you?”
The man’s smile widened, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “You might not remember me, but your father and I were... colleagues. We shared a vision of the future.” He paused, his tone darkening. “But then he decided to reawaken some old, forgotten ideals.”
Vigdis had been standing still, her sharp gaze flicking between the speakers as she pieced together the exchange. Her grip on the axe tightened as something seemed to click in her mind. She took a step forward, her voice low but steady. “I’ve heard enough.”
In an instant, she charged. The guards reacted with clinical efficiency, four taser darts flying through the air and striking Vigdis squarely. She fell to the ground, her body convulsing violently as the current coursed through her.
The man’s expression shifted, a mix of intrigue and genuine amusement. “What a perfect example,” he mused, stepping closer to Vigdis’s twitching form. He turned to Jenny, his tone dripping with condescension. “Now, how about we spare ourselves the drama? Come with me, Genevieve. It’ll save us all a lot of trouble.”
Reed’s voice cut through the tension, casual but pointed. “Well, it is her mission to make contact. So, sure, why not?”
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“Reed, don’t,” Jenny said quietly, her voice pleading.
The man’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “Mission?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh, her old man would never send baby Genevieve on a mission alone. My spies say she messed up real bad and ran before her punishment was even announced.” His grin widened, practically glowing with smugness. “Just as cowardly as her father, isn’t she?”
Jenny flinched, the words hitting harder than she’d expected. She turned to Reed, desperation in her eyes. “I can explain...”
Reed’s brow furrowed as he looked at her, his disbelief evident. “Tell me he’s lying, Jenny. Tell me it’s not true.”
Her throat tightened, the words catching before they could leave her lips. She opened her mouth, then closed it, her gaze dropping to the ground. “I... I can’t.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Reed’s expression shifted, disbelief giving way to anger and something far colder—betrayal. His grip tightened on the rifle, his voice dropping to a dangerous low. “Wait, what?” He took a slow step back, his jaw clenched. “No mission?” Another step back. “No reward?”
Jenny’s breath caught, her chest tightening under the weight of his words. She wanted to say something, to explain, but what could she possibly offer? Everything she’d been holding onto—her fabricated mission, her desperate need for validation—was unraveling in front of her.
Reed’s mind churned as he stared at her. Part of him felt the sting of betrayal—how she’d kept this lie going, how she’d drawn him and the others into her fabricated quest. But beneath that, another feeling stirred. Relief. Clarity. He’d been wrestling with the confusion of their growing closeness, the kiss, the strange pull between them. Now, it was simpler. The lie cut through the fog like a blade. He needed something—he always had. And this lie only confirmed it: he couldn’t let himself get too close. Not here. Not now.
He took another step back, his eyes narrowing as his grip on the rifle tightened. “So, what? You dragged us into this, risking our lives, for... what exactly? Some ego trip? A chance to play hero?”
Jenny flinched but met his gaze. “I didn’t—”
“Didn’t what?” he snapped, his voice sharp enough to cut. “Didn’t think this would blow up in your face? Didn’t care what would happen to us when it did?”
Her lips moved, but no sound came out. The accusation hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.
Reed let out a bitter laugh, the sound more hollow than amused. “You know, I should’ve seen this coming. ‘Mission,’” he repeated mockingly. “Like anyone would send a kid into the wasteland to save the world. But no, I bought into it, didn’t I?” He shook his head, his voice softening but not losing its edge. “Guess I wanted to believe you more than I realized.”
Jenny’s stomach churned, his words cutting deeper than she expected. She opened her mouth to reply, but Reed had already crouched beside Vigdis, his attention shifting. He appeared to check on her, his movements calm, but his mind was anything but. The map he’d seen in her pack earlier was a lifeline now—a plan B. He slid it out carefully, straightening as he examined it.
He looked between the map, Jenny, and the man in the jacket, his face hardening into resolve. “Oh, you manipulative—”
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Before he could finish, Vigdis shot up with a roar, her body springing to life despite the tasers. The guards scrambled, their rifles raised, but they weren’t fast enough. Vigdis closed the distance to the first one, kicking him square in the chest and sending him flying into another. She snatched the rifle from a third guard, wielding it like a club and striking him hard enough to drop him to the ground.
The last guard fired in panic, but Vigdis ducked low, the bullet whizzing harmlessly past her. She surged forward, knocking the rifle from his hands and grabbing him by the collar. Her momentum carried her toward the man in the jacket, but before she could reach him, he swung the butt of a rifle with practiced precision, striking her temple. Vigdis crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
The man stood over her, adjusting his jacket as he turned back to Jenny. “Now, where were we?”
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The entrance to the Bunker yawned wide, a heavy, reinforced gateway that groaned with mechanical life as it moved. The group moved inside, their footsteps swallowed by the dim, cavernous hallway. Jenny walked in the center of the guards, her gaze darting around the ruins one last time. She couldn’t help but look for Reed, some part of her hoping he might have doubled back, that his departure had been a bluff.
But he was gone.
The realization hit her again like a gut punch, the ache settling deep in her chest. She swallowed hard and faced forward, her expression tightening into something unreadable. Beside her, the guards moved with precision, dragging the unconscious form of Vigdis between them. The big woman’s axe and crossbow were slung over one man’s shoulder, the weapons looking almost comically out of place against his sleek uniform.
The sight of Vigdis sparked something in Jenny’s memory—a fleeting image of the tall woman in Burgh. She didn’t know why, but it felt significant, as if their paths were always meant to cross.
The Bunker’s interior was not at all what Jenny expected. Where Bunker 7 had been sleek, sterile, and entirely self-contained, this place bore the marks of prolonged interaction with the outside world. She caught glimpses of people moving in distant hallways, some wearing clothes patched together from scavenged fabrics, others carrying Cleansing Shard pouches that glowed faintly in the dim light.
Her stomach twisted. These people had been trading with the topside. For how long? Why didn’t Bunker 7 know?
The man in the jacket—still unnamed but undeniably in charge—turned his head slightly, his sharp eyes catching her wandering gaze. “I believe you have a lot of questions, Genevieve,” he said, his voice calm, almost indulgent. “All in good time. First, some formalities.”
Jenny flinched at the sound of her full name. It grated on her nerves, a relic of her mother’s insistence on formality. She had rejected it as soon as she could, insisting that people call her Jenny. Simple, strong, hers.
She kept her lips pressed together, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of a response.
The group stopped before a set of high-tech cells. Unlike the rest of the Bunker, which seemed a mishmash of old and new, these cells were pristine. Energy fields shimmered faintly where bars might have been, glowing faintly blue. Without ceremony, the guards shoved Vigdis into one of the cells. She hit the floor with a heavy thud, but still didn’t stir.
The man gestured toward the second cell, his eyes fixed on Jenny. “If you please,” he said with mock courtesy.
Jenny stepped inside without protest. There was no point in resisting. She was outnumbered, outgunned, and mentally exhausted. The guards relieved her of her rifle, her knife—Reed’s knife—and even her utility belt. The cuffs remained, their edges digging into her ankles.
As the energy field buzzed to life behind her, she turned to face the man. He was already stepping away, but he paused, glancing over his shoulder.
“I believe there’s no need for more restrictive measures,” he said smoothly. “We’ll talk soon, Genevieve. For now, rest. This won’t be as bad as you might think.”
His words lingered as he disappeared down the corridor, leaving Jenny alone in her cell. Her mind churned, replaying the events of the past hour. Reed was gone, taking her map—and maybe her trust—with him. This mysterious man knew her father and spoke of him with a bitterness she didn’t understand. And now, here she was, locked away in a place that felt wrong on every level.
Across the way, Vigdis groaned, shifting slightly on the cell floor. Her presence was another puzzle, one Jenny didn’t have the energy to solve right now.
Jenny sat down on the cell’s bench, staring at the faint glow of the energy field. Her hand drifted to the empty spot at her side where her knife usually rested. Reed’s knife. Her throat tightened as memories of their journey together surfaced—his dry humor, his careful hands adjusting her harness, that fleeting moment in the lab, the kiss in the camp.
She should’ve told him the truth long ago. She’d had so many chances. Now, the weight of her omission bore down on her, heavier than the cuffs they hadn’t even needed to put on her. She understood why he felt the way he did—angry, betrayed—but that didn’t make his absence any easier to bear.
He was just... gone.
Jenny’s hand balled into a fist against her leg, her chest aching with guilt and a raw, gnawing sense of loss. She had no idea what he was planning or where he’d gone, but the realization that she might never see him again—that he’d walked away thinking she’d lied to him from the start—was almost unbearable.
She clenched her jaw, forcing the emotion down. There would be time to process later. For now, she needed to figure out what the hell was going on in this Bunker and how she was going to get out of it.