Perhaps We Were Not Meant To be Together

All of us piled into the car, slamming doors behind them. For a full minute, nobody spoke.

The only sound was our breathing—some heavy, some controlled—mixed with the faint ringing still in our ears from the brutal fight.

"We need to move." I said calmly, while watching distant figures converging on the wreckage. "City Protectors will be here any minute, and I'd rather not explain why we have two unconscious Bakers in the trunk."

Henry stared at his car's trunk, now containing two unconscious Bakers, and let out a long-suffering sigh. "The blood is never coming out of that upholstery."

"At least your precious car survived," Alex cut in, brushing concrete dust from his jacket with exaggerated care.

His eyes drifted to the crater where he and the First Baker had gone toe-to-toe, his expression caught between pride and chagrin. "More or less."

Jade was still fuming about her ruined fancy dress, picking at the bloodstains with tissue papers. "I vote we drop them at Processing and then get food. I'm starving, and this night is already ruined." She shot a venomous look at the trunk. “Useless Bunch!”

"Speaking of destinations," Alex stretched in his seat, "where are we actually going?"

Henry eased the car into motion, "Their base. The warehouse where rest our team is. Might as well crash the whole party while we're at it."

"Sounds perfect." I also glanced back at our unconscious cargo. "We need answers about what they were really after tonight."

Henry’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, scanning the chaos we’d left behind—the bridge(somewhat destroyed), the wrecked cars, the unconscious villains stuffed into his trunk. Then, with a clipped inhale, he slammed his foot on the gas. Subsequently, the engine roared, tires screeching against pavement as we shot forward, merging into the flow of traffic that had just begun to resume.

For one blessed moment, I thought we might actually get away clean.

Then came the rhythmic thunder of rotor blades.

A police helicopter.

"Damn it," I muttered. "I jinxed us."

The helicopter's spotlight found us like an accusing finger from above, flooding the car's interior with harsh white light. The loudspeaker crackled with artificial authority:

“UNKNOWN VEHICLE, STOP IMMEDIATELY. YOU ARE ORDERED TO PULL OVER AND SURRENDER. FAILURE TO COMPLY WILL RESULT IN YOUR DETAINMENT—BY FORCE IF NECESSARY.”

Jade made a sound like an angry cat, her silver eyes tracking the chopper outside the window. I saw the shift in her focus. Then the helicopter wobbled midair. The rotors stuttered. For a split second, the whole machine lurched dangerously, its frame groaning under unseen force, tilting just slightly off course. The pilot’s frantic voice shouted something unintelligible over the loudspeaker, cut off by static as the aircraft spun, losing stability.

I grabbed Jade’s wrist instantly, yanking her hand away from the window before she could make things worse.

“Easy now! Small distractions only,” I hissed, low enough for only her to hear. “If someone dies, we’ll have a bigger mess. None of us get out of this clean if that happens.”

Her gaze snapped to mine, sharp enough to cut. For a heartbeat, I thought she might argue. Then understanding flickered across her face, and the pressure in the air dissipated. The helicopter stabilized with a mechanical whine of protest.

"You're no fun anymore," she rolled her eyes, pulling her wrist free from my grip. “Fine.”

Henry didn't wait for a second warning. He yanked the wheel hard, and we dove into the West District's maze of narrow streets and aging architecture. Neon signs blurred past like strange stars, their glow reflecting off rain-slicked asphalt. The helicopter dogged our trail, but down here, among the urban canyons, its advantage was limited. Its spotlight strobed across us in fragments, unable to maintain a lock as Henry threaded the car through gaps that seemed to materialize just for us.

"We've got maybe five minutes before they coordinate with ground units," Henry announced, his voice carrying that edge. "Anyone have a preference for how we disappear tonight?"

...

"Jade London," I called weakly, my eyes half-closed and head resting on the Jade's shoulder.

"What?"

I blinked lazily, then repeated back, "What?"

Jade humphed in irritation, turning slightly from where she was crouched, clearly busy with something. "Stop annoying me," she grumbled. "You see I'm working. Unlike a certain someone who hasn’t even lifted a finger all day."

I smiled, knowing exactly where this was going.

Jade kept going, her voice half-distracted, half-exasperated. "And now, on top of everything else, I have to make sure the police don’t catch us. Because, apparently, I’m the only competent one here."

My too-hardworking, too-aggressive, too-capable girlfriend.

I chuckled softly, letting my fingers tighten around hers before she could pull away. "What would I do without you?"

She froze for half a second before scoffing. "Cry. Obviously."

"So smart! I would probably cry my heart out." I laughed, shifting slightly so I could look at her properly. She tried to avoid my gaze, but I caught the faintest pink creeping up her ears. Oh, she was embarrassed. Jade, who could tear through entire squads without breaking a sweat, was flustered because I was staring at her. I tilted my head, my fingers brushing away a few strands of her messy, windswept hair, a result of all the fighting, running, and jumping she had been doing.

"You’re really too hardworking?" I murmured.

Jade huffed, trying to look annoyed, but I saw the small twitch at the corner of her lips.

"Well, someone has to do the work," she muttered softly.

I leaned in slightly, my hand still resting against her hair. "Yeah," I agreed. "And that’s why I need to take care of you too."

Jade poked me in the chest, her silver eyes glinting. "Remember you have to take me on a date tomorrow?"

I smiled, tightening my grip on her hand. "Of course, I remember. How could I ever forget it."

"Good." She exhaled, leaning into me slightly, as if she were finally letting herself rest. "Candlelight dinner, fancy food—and I swear, if you take me to one of those shady hole-in-the-wall places we hide out in, I’ll kill you."

I laughed softly. "Noted. No shady hideouts. Just real silverware and overpriced appetizers."

Jade smirked. "And dessert. You’re getting me dessert."

"Whatever you want," I murmured, my thumb tracing slow circles against the back of her hand.

"You promise?"

I looked at her—really looked at her. The dirt and bruises from the fight, the blood staining her torn sleeves, the exhaustion hidden in the way she held herself. But even now, she still glowed—still looked like the most alive person I had ever met.

"Yeah, Jade. I promise."

Then, of course, she ruined the moment.

"If we die tonight, I’m haunting you," she muttered.

I snorted. "Wow. So Romantic."

...

Meanwhile.

"Next right," Henry muttered, taking the turn so smoothly it barely registered. "Then we cut through the old market district."

The helicopter's spotlight still burned overhead, but Henry wasn't wrong – the maze of narrow streets and covered markets ahead would give us plenty of cover. Not exactly ideal for his precious car, but better than getting caught.

Alex pulled out his phone, already dialing. "I need to check on Lore's team. Those warehouse runners had the train hostages with them."

"Speaking of problems," Jade's voice carried a hint of amusement as she watched the side mirror, "we've got three patrol cars trying to join our little parade."

A ghost of a smile crossed Henry's face as he downshifted, the engine's pitch dropping to a predatory growl. "Watch this." The car lunged forward, threading through an alley so narrow our side mirrors whispered against the old brick walls. Behind us, the police cruisers were forced to crawl, their wider frames betraying them.

Alex held up a hand for silence as the call connected. "Lore? Yeah, we got two of them. The First Baker took a swim." He paused, listening. "How's the warehouse situation?"

Through the phone's speaker, we could hear the chaos of an ongoing pursuit – engines roaring, Vinico shouting something unintelligible in the background, Somewhere in the mess, Gina’s distinctive, borderline-maniacal laugh cut through. Lore's voice emerged from the mayhem, carrying that particular strain of someone trying to herd cats through a firefight. "Three slipped into the complex. But we've got eyes on them. Louvel's car is running circles around their bargain-bin getaway vehicles. And Vinico..." A sigh. "Vinico decided to play meat roadblock."

Alex let out a snort. "Of course he did. Any hostages?"

"Yeah, actually. Spotted them moving civilians into the east building. Looks like a couple dozen from the train incident. We're setting up to—"

Lore suddenly cut off.

In the background, there was a sharp curse, followed by the unmistakable sound of blaster fire.

"Shit! Gina, on your left!"

A rapid series of blaster shots crackled through the phone. Then—

Vinico’s voice, whooping like he was on a rollercoaster instead of an active battlefield.

When Lore returned, his voice dripped exasperation. "Sorry. Gina almost died. Again. I swear to whatever god is listening, just because you can rewind time before death doesn't mean—GINA, GET DOWN FROM THERE! HAVING AN AUTOMATIC BLASTER POINTED AT YOU IS NOT A GAME!"

Henry, meanwhile, yanked the wheel hard, cutting through what looked like a loading dock behind a closed market. The helicopter’s spotlight swept past overhead, but the maze of overhangs, steel beams, and market awnings kept breaking its line of sight. We shot out onto a wider street, lined with shuttered storefronts and dimly glowing signs, the empty roads making it perfect for a high-speed escape.

Alex didn’t miss a beat.

"Hold position," he told Lore. "We’re heading your way once we lose the tail."

Through the speaker, we heard a scuffle, followed by Lore groaning.

"Vinico! Stop treating gravity like a suggestion and FOCUS on the girl turning our floor into an ice rink!"

“STOP!!” She yelled loudly.

I had no idea what that meant, but it sounded horrifying.

Lore's sigh could have powered a small city. "I'll call you back. Trying to coordinate this circus and talk is like... actually, there's no comparison. This is its own special hell. Later."

The line went dead, leaving us with just the engine's rumble and the city's blur outside our windows.

Jade settled back, a smile playing at her lips. "Sounds like they're having much fun than us."

Henry took us down another side street, this one curving away from the market district and into the dimly lit backroads of the industrial sector.

With Jade constantly shifting the odds in our favor, the once-tight police pursuit had crumbled into chaos. Thanks to Jade's subtle manipulations of probability, our pursuit had dissolved into confused fragments—sirens echoing from all the wrong places, the helicopter circling ever wider as its pilot struggled against a maze that seemed to shift and twist beneath them.

Henry's shoulders relaxed fractionally as he checked the mirrors one last time. "Almost clear," he noted with quiet satisfaction. "Two more turns and we hit the industrial zone proper. Plenty of shadows to disappear into until—"

The words died in his throat.

Mid-sentence. Mid-breath.

His whole body went rigid, his hands tightening around the wheel, his gaze fixed on the rearview mirror. I caught the flicker of hesitation in his expression—something between recognition and unease. Then, he looked back at me. At me specifically, and his voice was different when he spoke.

"Vesper."

My stomach dropped.

Alex, who had been stretching casually in the front seat, finally picked up on the tension. "Okay, what’s happening? Who’s Vesper?"

I kept my eyes locked on Henry's reflection, mind already sprinting through scenarios, each worse than the last.

"They took her."

The car's interior seemed to shrink, the tension suddenly thick enough to choke on. Alex twisted in his seat, gaze darting between us. "Someone want to fill me in? Who's Vesper?"

I felt Jade’s hand slide into mine, her fingers curling around mine gently, grounding. A quiet act of support—just enough pressure to remind me I wasn’t alone in this moment.

"Can you track her?" I fought to keep my voice level, remembering the promise I'd made—the one I was already failing to keep.

Henry nodded. "Yeah."

"Then let’s go."

He hesitated. "North, this feels wrong. The timing..."

"We've got dozens of hostages waiting in the warehouse district," Alex cut in, frustration edging his words. "Will someone please explain who this girl is?"

Henry took a hard right, the car's engine snarling as we accelerated down a different street. His consciousness was already spreading out, tracking signals, processing information streams most people couldn't even perceive.

"She's scared," he reported, his voice tight. "Heart rate's elevated. Moving northeast at..." He paused, calculating. "Eighty miles per hour. Has to be a vehicle. Their destination seemed to be North district."

"The hostages," Alex started, but I cut him off.

"Lore's team has that contained. Nothing moves there without us knowing." I turned back to Henry. "How long?"

"Fifteen minutes. Right when we were trading blows on the bridge." Self-recrimination crept into his tone. "I should have caught it sooner, but with everything else..."

"Hey." I gripped his shoulder, forcing him to focus. "You caught it now. That's what matters."

Drawing a breath, I met Alex's increasingly impatient stare in the mirror. "She's a girl who just manifested meta abilities. She came to me for help, convinced someone was plotting to exploit her powers and hunting her."

Alex's expression darkened. "And you didn't think to mention this before because...?"

I exhaled. "Our plate was already full. So, I wanted to understand what we were dealing with before dragging everyone into another mess.

"Are you okay with the detour?” I asked.

Alex huffed out a short breath, shaking his head. “Are you kidding? We just fought a bunch of lunatics on a bridge. What’s one more mess?”

Henry, still quiet, gave a short nod, then yanked the wheel sharply, cutting onto a new route. “We’re going.” His voice was clipped, focused, his mind already locking onto the location ping from wherever Vesper was being held.

The car accelerated, the night rushing past us, but somewhere deep inside, I couldn’t shake the feeling of uneasiness. I shouldn’t be feeling anxious.

…

…

…

After what felt like an hour-long drive, Henry finally killed the engine, the car settling into silence half a block away from our destination. The mansion loomed in the distance, its tall iron gates standing firm, guarding its pristine, impossibly well-kept estate. Six luxury cars were parked in a neat, deliberate row just outside the front gate. High-end models, sleek and black, with tinted windows and diplomatic plates. Not just rich—influential. Not the kind of people you wanted to piss off carelessly.

Henry’s fingers drummed against the steering wheel, his expression locked into something calculating, sharp. “Vesper’s signal is strong,” he reported, eyes glued to the readings in front of him. “Underground. About fifty feet down. They’ve got her in some kind of reinforced chamber.”

I frowned, leaning forward, studying the mansion’s facade. It was three stories of old money architecture, a perfect blend of classic wealth and modern security upgrades. The kind of place designed to show off privilege while still keeping people out. I silently observed the likeness of the place: only a sliver of chance.

Jade let out a low whistle, peering through the window. “Well, someone’s compensating for something.”

Alex cracked his knuckles. “Yeah. Their security budget.”

Henry ignored both of them, his focus still locked on the map, his mind working overtime. “The layout’s complex. Cameras on every angle. There’s definitely underground access, but breaking in quietly? That’s not happening. We either ghost our way in, or we go in loud.”

Alex stretched, rolling his shoulders. “Loud’s fun.”

Jade joined. “Loud is indeed fun.”

Out of nowhere, they suddenly seemed to become think alike best friends.

Henry shot Alex and Jade a glare. “Loud gets us arrested.”

I exhaled, still staring at the estate, feeling the familiar weight of unease pressing against my heart. This wasn’t just some random gang hideout. This was carefully curated power. The kind of people who didn’t need to fight in the streets. The kind of people who could ruin lives with a phone call. And Vesper was somewhere beneath it all.

“Alright, Break it down for me, Henry," I said, keeping my voice low. "What exactly are we looking at inside?"

Henry's consciousness hidden in Vesper thoughts, divided and latched onto others in the mansion, spreading wider while processing every detail.

“One. We’ve got six luxury cars, all with diplomatic plates, which means at least some of these people have official protection. That’s a problem.”

“Two. Security is layered—high walls, infrared cameras covering every entrance, motion sensors along the fence line, and at least four guards patrolling the perimeter. That’s just outside. Three. Inside, it’s worse. Multiple people. Guards are stationed throughout, and this place is rigged with smart locks and biometric access points—not something we can just bypass with a lockpick.”

I nodded, absorbing the information. “And Vesper?”

“She’s underground, roughly fifty feet below the east wing. Reinforced chamber. No windows, one way in, one way out. Which means they’re either keeping her secure for now, I believe until either she breaks or they find a different solution for her to agree to their demands.”

Alex leaned forward, studying the estate with a thoughtful squint. “Do we know who actually owns this place?”

Henry shook his head.

Jade hummed. “Translation: If we mess up, we’re dealing with more than just a cleanup crew. We’re dealing with people who can make us disappear.”

I exhaled, pushing aside the instinctual unease gnawing at my chest. Moreover, everything was painted red and black in my perception, mixed within were a few streaks of gold: danger, death, a chance. What more, we didn’t have the luxury of second-guessing.

“Alright. How do we get in?” I asked, voice steady.

Henry paused, then ran a hand through his hair, thinking. “We’ve got three options.”

“We ghost our way in,” Henry started. “Jade manipulates the odds, I handle security bypass, and we avoid every camera and guard like shadows. We get in, grab Vesper, and get out before they even know we were here.”

Jade smirked, tilting her head. “No alarms. No mess. I like it.”

“We create a diversion,” Henry continued, “draw security away from the east wing, use the chaos to slip in unnoticed. This way, we don’t have to be perfect—just fast.”

“Or,” Henry sighed, “we go in loud. Fast, hard, overwhelming force. We take out security before they can react, force our way inside, grab Vesper, and fight our way out. High risk, high reward.”

I exhaled, mind made up. “Let's choose first option. we go quiet. Clean and quiet. Less chance of collateral damage, and we don't need the entire North District coming down on us.”

Henry nodded immediately, already expecting that answer. Jade smirked, looking pleased. Alex also agreed, “Gives us more control over the situation."

I watched another patrol pass the front gate. "Let’s first talk through it."

Henry didn’t hesitate. “First gap comes in two minutes. Guards change rotation at the east corner—thirty-second window while the cameras adjust.”

“That gets us to the grounds,” I noted. “Next?”

Jade’s smile deepened, her silver eyes flickering with interest. “Service entrance. Probability of all three guards taking their smoke break simultaneously is about to become... surprisingly high.” A slight pause. “Funny how that works.”

Alex arched a brow. "And if we run into someone inside?"

"We don’t," I said firmly. "That’s the point. Henry tracks their movements, Jade manipulates our timing, and we move like we’re not even there."

Alex hummed in approval, arms crossed as he studied the estate ahead.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

I nodded, glancing at each of them. “Alright. We move in sequence. Henry, you're our eyes—track every camera, every guard, every security system. Jade, you handle the rest.”

Alex rolled his shoulders. "And I’ll stay ready for physical confrontation. But let’s hope we don’t need that. Clean entry means clean exit."

Henry exhaled, glancing at his screen. “One minute until the first gap.”

I clenched my fists, my body already settling into the familiar calm of an operation, honed from lifetimes of experiences. I suppressed all my fear and uneasiness into a single point in my mind and swallowed it whole, forgetting that concept of fear even existed for the next few minutes or hours. This was the skill I had learned taking part in wars fought with chaos. Fear was but nothing mere distraction.

We slipped out of the car, keeping low as we moved between the shadows of the parked luxury cars. The security guards were predictable—walking the same paths, heads turning at precisely the right times for us to slip past unnoticed. That was Jade’s work. Crossing the open courtyard was the hardest part—a hundred feet of perfectly manicured lawn, dotted with decorative trees and modern art installations, all positioned to make security sweeps easier. Jade exhaled softly, and I could see her shifting the odds, bending coincidences into certainty. Every time she nudged a reality a little, the Likeness in my perception would shift, adding more golden streaks into red and black perception. The wind picked up slightly, rustling the hedges just enough to disguise the light crunch of our footsteps. The infrared cameras flickered briefly, their feed resetting one second early, creating a gap exactly when we needed it.

We glided across the lawn like shadows, keeping low, silent, heading straight for the service entrance.

Henry’s mapping of the area was dead accurate. Three guards near the side entrance, standing just outside a small employee lounge, leaning against the wall. Laughing. One was already lighting up a cigarette, the glow of his lighter illuminating his smug, oblivious expression.

Jade barely glanced at them. The second guard, mid-conversation, suddenly patted his pockets, frowning.

“Shit. I left my lighter inside.”

The third sighed. “I’ll grab it. You guys wait here.”

They had no idea they were being nudged like chess pieces. As the third disappeared inside, the second turned to follow, leaving only the first—half-distracted, exhaling smoke, barely paying attention. Alex moved first. A quick step, a smooth twist of his wrist, and the guard crumpled, unconscious before he could even realize what had happened. I caught him before he hit the ground, dragging him quietly behind a stack of crates. The entrance was clear. I reached for the door handle—locked.

Henry stepped forward, pulling out a thin device, a compact security override tool. It was unused from our earlier auction preparation. He clamped it against the keypad, fingers dancing across his wrist display as the lock began to decrypt itself in real time.

A soft beep. The lock clicked open. We slipped inside.

Footsteps echoed somewhere nearby, but Jade’s influence made sure every guard turned the wrong corner at the right time.

The hallway was dimly lit, sleek and modern despite the estate’s classic architecture. The walls were lined with expensive artwork, the floors polished and cool beneath our steps.

Henry’s eyes flickered to his screen. “Cameras looping. We’re clear for sixty seconds before they reset.”

We moved fast. The service hall led straight to the main house, branching into a wider hallway lined with luxury decor and distant, muffled conversations. Footsteps echoed somewhere nearby, but Jade’s influence made sure every guard turned the wrong corner at the right time. We cut left—straight toward the stairwell leading down.

Henry gestured ahead. “Two floors down. Basement level, east wing.”

Alex exhaled, rolling his shoulders. “Alright, let’s hope they weren’t smart enough to reinforce the stairs.”

We reached the door to the lower levels—it required a keycard, a biometric scanner, and a passcode.Before Henry even reached for his tools, the panel glitched again. A rapid series of beeps, a flicker of error messages—and then, with a soft mechanical whine, the door unlocked.

Henry stared at it.

Then at Jade.

Jade tilted her head. "Wow. What an unexpected security flaw."

Alex grinned. "I love when reality bends in our favor."

Henry just let out a quiet sigh of acceptance. We entered the stairwell, moving fast.

One level down.

The air was cooler here, the walls turning from lavish decor to cold, reinforced steel.

Another level down.

The hallway was different now—less polished, more utilitarian, as if the wealth and grandeur stopped the second you weren’t meant to be there.

Jade’s silver eyes sharpened, her steps careful. “Security’s thicker down here.”

I nodded. “Means we’re getting close.”

We reached the final door.

Henry checked his tracker, eyes narrowing. “Third door on the left.”

The lock looked reinforced, thick enough to withstand brute force, lined with sophisticated security overrides. But everything seemed be afraid of Jade, dead or alive, as if she was a boogeyman coming for their life.

Another door unlocked, just like that. Another malfunction. The panel buzzed weakly before the lock clicked open, the heavy chamber door shifting slightly outward. Alex grinned, already stepping inside. The door slid open with a soft mechanical hiss, revealing a dimly lit chamber lined with reinforced steel walls. The moment we stepped inside, the air felt thicker, charged with an eerie silence. This wasn’t just a holding cell—this was a containment unit. Designed not for all kind of prisoners. The room itself was bare-bones, sterile and clinical. No windows, no decorations—just cold, smooth metal surfaces and an overhead fluorescent light that flickered faintly as if even it was unsure about its presence.

But my eyes weren’t on the room.

They were on her.

Vesper.

She was sitting in the center of the chamber, perched on a simple metal bench, her posture stiff. Her wrists were bound, locked into high-grade suppression cuffs, the kind used to restrain metas with unknown abilities. Her dark hair was messy, strands falling over her face, but her eyes—her sharp, striking eyes—were clouded. Not just with exhaustion, but with something unnatural.

She blinked sluggishly as she lifted her head toward us, her movements delayed, slow, like her body wasn’t fully cooperating. Something was wrong. She didn’t react immediately. Didn’t flinch.Didn’t even look surprised or relieved. She just stared, her expression blank, unreadable.

I took a slow step forward, “Vesper?”

No response.

Henry’s fingers moved quickly, scanning the security terminal on the wall, assessing the locks, and Alex kept an eye out.

Jade’s silver eyes flickered, “They’ve drugged her.”

That would explain it.

Alex frowned. “How bad?”

Jade crouched slightly, studying her more carefully. “Not enough to knock her out, but enough to keep her… compliant. A little detached. Probably something mild. Suppressants.”

Henry’s jaw tightened. “They didn’t just want to contain her. They wanted her passive to follow their bidding.”

Vesper’s gaze finally landed on mine, her pupils slightly too dilated, her movements a fraction too slow. Then she spoke. Her voice was quiet, a little hoarse, but steady enough.

"You found me?...I knew I was right.”

It didn’t sound like relief. It sounded like she wasn’t sure if this was real or just another hallucination. Though I wondered where her black cat was, was it even alive?

Jade reached for the cuffs but stopped short. “These are wired into the security system. If we just yank them off—”

“I know,” Henry interrupted, already moving to the terminal. “Give me a second. I need to disengage the dampeners before I can override the actual clasp.”

Alex was already positioning himself near the door, listening for movement outside, his expression hard, focused. "How long before someone realizes she's not where she's supposed to be?"

Henry scowled. "Less time than I’d like."

I crouched in front of Vesper, keeping my voice calm, steady. “Can you stand?”

She blinked at me slowly. Then, after a second, she exhaled, shifting her weight forward. She tried to stand, and immediately, her knees buckled. I caught her before she hit the floor. Her fingers gripped my sleeve weakly, frustration flashing across her face, just for a second, before she set her jaw and forced herself upright again.

“I’ve got you,” I murmured, steadying her.

Henry muttered something under his breath, his fingers moving fast, and finally, the cuffs clicked open. The dampening glow flickered out, and the restraints fell from her wrists, clattering softly against the steel floor. For the first time, I saw real relief flicker across Vesper’s face. She flexed her hands slowly, rubbing at the raw, irritated skin around her wrists.

Jade shot Henry a look. "They’ll know that was disabled manually."

Henry sighed, already backing toward the door. "Yeah. We need to move—now."

I turned back to Vesper. "Can you walk?"

She didn’t answer immediately. Then, carefully, she pushed off the bench. Her steps were wobbly, her muscles clearly fighting against the aftereffects of whatever they gave her—but she stayed upright.

Alex nodded approvingly. "Good enough. Let's get the hell out of here."

Henry tapped his screen, rerouting security feeds, buying us seconds at best, minutes if we were lucky.

Jade adjusted her grip on Vesper’s arm. “No wrong moves now. We walk out the way we came—without making a sound.”

She was still processing all of this, still fighting off the drugged haze, but in the dim light, I could see it, that flicker of determination, cutting through the fog.

I squeezed her shoulder lightly. “Stay with me.”

She exhaled. "I’m here."

We moved like shadows through the mansion's hushed corridors, slipping past security systems that should have detected us but didn't—couldn't. The weight of our rescue pressed down with each step—Vesper stumbling beside us, Jade's constant shifting odds, Henry's laser focus, Alex's coiled readiness. Freedom waited just beyond the estate's boundary. A few more steps into the night, and we could vanish into the city's embrace.

And then, I stopped.

The others made it two steps further before realizing I'd frozen.

My heartbeat didn't quicken with fear—it slowed, as if time itself was stretching around what approached.

He walked toward us with measured, deliberate steps—an old man, though "old" felt like a laughably inadequate word. He was ancient, but not in any way that suggested frailty or decay. He stood impossibly straight, as if time had never dared suggest he bow to its weight. Each footfall echoed with unnatural clarity, the very air seeming to part before him like a curtain. His skin was alabaster pale, stretched tissue-thin across his frame—almost translucent. And beneath that near-transparent veil of flesh, I saw them:

His bones.

Golden.

Luminous.

They shone from within like artifacts from a forgotten age, as if his very skeleton had been forged by something that preceded human understanding:

Sir Nash.

The Master of Arcane.

In that moment, the pieces clicked together with horrible clarity. I understood why I was here—why we all were. It had been my doing. All of it.

I drew in a breath that felt too thick, tasting the weight of his impossible existence. His steps halted, and his gaze locked onto mine. For one eternal second, neither of us moved. Something flickered across his features—recognition, yes, but tinged with genuine surprise.

He hadn’t expected to see me.

His smile bloomed slowly, broad and warm like an old friend greeting another. But was it truly joy, or simply the way things like him acknowledged their favorite prey?

Beside me, Jade went rigid, her fingers twitching with aborted purpose. Henry remained perfectly still, a statue processing too much data. Alex edged closer to Vesper, his stance casual but combat-ready. Vesper, still fighting the fog of whatever they'd given her, stared with unfocused eyes, her breathing shallow and quick.

Sir Nash took another step forward, his voice honey-warm and gently amused—a tone that felt obscene coming from something like him.

"Ah," he said, his golden bones catching the dim light. "Now, this is a pleasant surprise."

The way the words rolled from his tongue felt wrong. Time stretched like taffy, the air growing stagnant. I felt the others' tension—their readiness for combat. But there would be no fight. Not one we could win. Jade's fingers found mine, ice-cold and trembling as she leaned close, her voice barely a whisper but saturated with dread.

“North, I can’t see.”

"All the possibilities," she breathed, color draining from her face. "It's all dark. Every single one."

I swallowed. I had never thought about it that if her perception was dark she would turn blind. Dark. Not just bad outcomes. Not just risk and uncertainty. A void where futures should be. It was like standing on the edge of a cliff and realizing—too late—that there was nothing below you.

Sir Nash’s smile widened, just a fraction.

Did he hear her?

Did he already know?

His eyes, unnaturally glimmered, dark as an abyss filled with strangeness, constantly coagulating and morphing, something unreadable behind them, something too deep, too old, something that watched us like we were pieces of a puzzle he had already solved.

"Come now," he said smoothly, his voice too warm, too knowing. "Surely you’re not afraid of an old man."

But Jade was terrified. Her grip on my hand painfully hard, her fingers ice-cold, trembling slightly—a rarity, almost impossible. I turned my head just enough to see her face, her normally composed expression fractured with something sharp, something real—fear. Her silver eyes, always sharp and calculating, stared at Sir Nash with naked horror, her breathing quick and shallow. Then, barely audible: "He has no cause, North. It's lost somewhere. I can't change his cause of existence."

She swallowed hard, clinging to my hand like an anchor in a storm.

“Too bad for us.”

I exhaled, my vision shifted and world saturated with shapes and colors; I let my perception bloom into the world beyond what could be seen.

Above us, hanging from the air like puppets on invisible strings—

Coffins.

Massive, illusory coffins, each one hanging above our heads

I turned my gaze to Sir Nash, and his Likeness manifested before me. He wasn’t a man. He was something that pretended to be one. A shape roughly human, but faceless, nothing but a form filled with thick, dark ichor—black and endless, spilling from his body, leaking down his limbs, pooling around his feet like tears. The ground beneath him sizzled where it touched, like reality itself was rejecting his presence.

His Likeness was strange, something from somewhere else, something that had no place in this world—something that had walked out of the unnatural.

He smiled again.

And we froze. Not by choice—but because space itself seemed to crystallize around us. Something inside me splintered, a crack spreading through my consciousness like ice breaking. Then Henry's nose began to bleed. A single crimson line, delicate as calligraphy, traced its way down to his lip. His eyes met mine for one terrible moment—confusion bleeding into understanding, then terror, then nothing at all. They rolled back, and he collapsed without a sound.

Just... stopped existing. As if someone had simply deleted him from the world.

Alex lunged to catch him, but caught only empty air. We all reached too late, watched too late, understood too late. Henry's body hit the floor with the finality. Alex barely had time to process the loss before something invisible reached into his mind and tore it apart. His golden aura of invincibility—the power that had saved him countless times—flared like a dying star, pulsing with desperate, animal brightness.

He surged forward with impossible speed, faster than thought, faster than I could grab him.

My fingers closed on empty air as I spun, shoving Jade behind me, using my body as a shield. Because if someone had to die next, it wouldn't be her. Never her. Not Jade.

Sir Nash raised his hand with elegant fashion. A staff materialized out of thin air, appearing in his palm as if it had always been there, as if he had simply remembered it into existence.

Alex lifted off the ground like a puppet yanked by cruel strings, limbs splayed at awkward angles, his expression contorting through rage and agony as his invincibility fought against the inevitable. The first bone break sounded like a gunshot in the silence. Then another. And another. Invisible forces pulled him apart like a child dismantling a toy, twisting him into shapes that violated geometry. His bones erupted through skin in a grotesque flowering, stark white against streaming blood. His air of invincibility aura fought to keep him alive, to maintain that promise of invulnerability—but it only prolonged his suffering. One heartbeat longer than Henry. One more second of conscious horror before his light guttered out like a candle in a hurricane.

His air of invincibility kept him alive for one more second than it should have. After another gasp, he also stopped breathing. His golden aura flickered once. Then it was gone.

Jade kept trembling behind me, something I'd never witnessed in all our time together. Not Jade, who laughed in the face of death. Not Jade, who could bend probability until it broke, who treated gunfights like dance recitals. Not my Jade, who had stood beside me through nightmare after nightmare, her smile never wavering, her confidence absolute. But now she shook like autumn leaves in a storm, her fingers knotted in my shirt so tight I could feel her nails through the fabric, her breath heavy. She was terrified. For the first time in our shared history of doing impossible things, Jade was genuinely, completely afraid.

And I had no idea how to protect her from something that negated possibility itself.

Sir Nash took another step forward, his expression unchanged, his smile never faltering, his golden bones still glowing beneath his translucent skin. His dark ichor in my perception leaked steadily, pooling beneath his feet, spreading outward, creeping toward us.

But, the Fear, remained trapped in the depths of my mind, unable to override my resolve. I stood my ground, letting my perception bloom into its fuller spectrum. The world exploded into layers of meaning—every surface, shadow, and space painted in gradients of potential: what I could use, what would kill me, what might save us if I was fast enough, smart enough, desperate enough.

I needed an escape route. Needed to get Jade out. Needed to—

But before I could make a move, Sir Nash spoke. “I’ve been watching you since the moment you set foot inside the mansion.”

I stiffened, my fingers twitching. He smiled again, tilting his head slightly as if amused by my reaction. “I wanted to see what your purpose was,” he continued, taking a slow step forward. “To see what you were after. But you should not have come for that girl.”

He gestured toward Vesper, collapsed beside us in a heap of terror and shame. The drugs still clouded her mind, but witnessing death—real death, sudden and brutal—had locked her in place. She hadn't even registered soiling herself, the puddle beneath her steaming slightly in the cold air, her eyes fixed on the broken ball like body of what had been Alex moments ago.

His smile widened a fraction, and in that moment I saw something deeper behind his eyes—not malice, not cruelty, but something far worse: curiosity. We weren't enemies to him. We were specimens. Lab rats who had wandered into the wrong experiment. The coffins above us swayed gently on their invisible chains, casting strange shadows that danced across the walls like hungry things. Waiting.

Sir Nash studied Vesper with the detached interest of a scientist observing a rare specimen, then shifted his golden-eyed gaze back to me. The darkness within those eyes churned like ancient seas.

“The girl behind you,” he mused, “rather has a rather peculiar ability.”

I went still.

"She even tried to rewrite my past at one point." His voice carried a note of genuine amusement, as if a child had attempted to move a mountain with their bare hands.

Jade's sharp intake of breath betrayed her shock, her fingers digging deeper into my sleeve. She had tried—and failed—to alter the causality of something that existed outside of cause and effect itself.

Sir Nash's chuckle echoed unnaturally in the hallway, "I have rarely seen a meta so powerful before." His tone held something approaching admiration, but his eyes remained distant, cold and unreachable. "She is impressive, truly. But... she is still young. Her power is untamed, unshaped."

He sighed, a deep, theatrical breath, as if disappointed by a great potential wasted too soon. “She needs time to mature.”

Then, he spoke again, “But, North—”

“—I must thank you.”

He smiled, almost fondly. “For giving me the method to extend my life.”

"I did not want to use it initially," he continued, false regret dripping from every word. "But I had no choice. And now, I find myself here, in this particular moment, standing before this girl who can locate the bizarre meta-nature you wrote and I have been seeking. A near-impossible task, yet she may be able to achieve it."

I cursed myself under my breath. This was all my fault. I had given him that method. And now it had come full circle, curling back around to strangle me. Jade had always called me a compulsive fixer, someone who couldn’t help but find solutions, even when no one asked for them. And this time, it had backfired in the worst way possible. I clenched my fists, trying to think—fast, fast, faster. Should I lie? Should I create another method, something that would distract him, delay him, throw him off course? But Sir Nash wasn’t an ordinary man. He might see straight through my lies.

And even if he didn’t, if he even suspected deception, the consequences would be unthinkable.

No. I needed something else. Something that would let us walk away breathing.

Because Henry and Alex were already dead. They were gone. The grief would come later. Right now, Jade and I were still alive. And if I wanted to honor their deaths, to make this right, we needed to survive.

There was always another loop.

Another chance.

Another time.

Meanwhile, Jade’s grip on my sleeve remained tight, her trembling fingers pressing into the fabric as if it were the last real thing she could hold onto. I could feel her breath—shallow, uneven—against my back. And yet, she was still thinking. Still calculating.

I could see her Likeness manifesting in reality despite her terror. The massive dragon that represented her true nature mostly slept coiled in the thick clouds above, its ancient eyes fixed on Sir Nash with imperious disdain. She was bleeding into reality unchecked, her desperation pushing her closer to overdraw. She was still searching, still trying to calculate impossible odds, to bend probability, break some cause and effect, until it gave us an escape route. I squeezed her hand, trying to make her stop before she hurt herself, but she was beyond feeling it now.

I moved before thinking, not out of desperation, but out of calculated necessity. I knew what Sir Nash could do—and I knew that if I didn't speak now, if I didn't give him something, we would both die here.

I would willingly die in her place, but Jade—no. The thought of her death was a void I refused to look into. I would tear reality apart with my bare hands before I let that happen.

I forced the next words out, steady, controlled, “Perhaps I might suggest something.”

Sir Nash tilted his head, golden bones catching the light like trapped sunlight. "Oh? How?"

I took a slow breath, forcing myself not to look at Jade behind me, forcing myself to keep my focus on him.

"You said it yourself. I gave you the method to extend your life," I said, each word measured, weighed, offered like coins to a ferryman.

His eyebrows lifted slightly, interest flickering in those ancient, unreadable eyes.

"And do you believe we only have one method?" I continued, my voice steady despite the void growing in my chest.

A subtle shift. A distraction. I had given him something before, something he had clearly used, something that had extended his unnatural existence even further. Now I dangled the possibility of more, another piece of forbidden knowledge that only I possessed.

His smile widened.

"Oh?" He stepped forward with liquid grace, hands folding behind his back—a predator's casual confidence before the kill. "And how many do you claim to know, Mr. North?"

Caution was everything now. Too many lies would shatter like glass against his perception. Too much hesitation would reveal the desperation beneath my words.

I swallowed, keeping my posture neutral, unaffected.

I kept my posture neutral, unaffected. "Several." The word fell like a stone into still water. "Some were never viable, some only half-completed. But some?" I met his gaze for just a heartbeat. "Some are still waiting to be tested."

Sir Nash laughed softly, the sound rich, filled with a genuine sense of amusement.

"Ah, North." His tone dripped indulgence, as if addressing a clever child. "Do you think I cannot see through this desperate gambit?"

"But I do wonder," he mused, tapping a golden finger against his chin, the bone beneath his skin pulsing with inner light. "Did you hesitate because you were contemplating lies?"

I stiffened, but I kept my breathing even.

"Or did you hesitate," he continued, "because you were considering offering me something real?"

I felt my pulse stutter.

Sir Nash chuckled, shaking his head like a teacher disappointed by a promising student. "You truly are fascinating." He fell silent, watching me with those impossible eyes, amusement dancing in their depths.

Then, "You're right," he admitted finally. "There is still much I need. Much that remains incomplete."

"I can help you," I offered, my voice steady despite knowing he saw through every layer of my facade. "There are many ways I could be useful."

He sighed theatrically, stretching slightly before tapping his staff against the floor. "You do have a point, I suppose."

One beat of terrible silence.

Then he exhaled sharply, disappointment heavy in the air.

"But I still do not like loose ends."

The bottom of my stomach dropped.

His golden fingers flexed, the otherworldly darkness in his eyes intensifying until it seemed to devour light itself. The weight of inevitability crashed down like an avalanche.

His gaze flickered past me.

To Jade.

My breath crystallized in my lungs.

He tsked irritatingly. "The little girl behind you is so much trouble."

I felt Jade go rigid against my back, her presence suddenly fragile as spun glass. Pure dread flooded my system.

Sir Nash's next words were calm, almost curious, like he was speaking of a delicate flower that had grown in the wrong place. "She’s been digging deeper and deeper," he murmured, tilting his head slightly. "She’s too dangerous to be left alone."

The next moment, Jade breath stopped.

No sound.

No movement.

No warning.

But I felt it.

Felt it in the space between heartbeats, as if our souls were tethered together.

For the first time in my life, I was afraid to look back.

But I did.

I turned, every motion weighted with dread, my pulse thundering against my skull as horror crawled into my lungs.

My heart shattered.

Every muscle in my body locked up.

Every muscle locked in denial.

No,

No, please, no, no—

Jade stood frozen, her body unnaturally still, caught between one breath and the next.

I turned, slowly, my limbs moving like they were trapped in molasses, the weight of reality pressing too heavily on my chest, suffocating me before I could even see.

And then I saw her: Her silver eyes were wide, trapped in that final moment of understanding, lips parted on words she would never speak. Her skin had transformed—smooth and perfect as blown glass, catching light in ways that human flesh never should, reflecting it back in fractured rainbow patterns.

She wasn't breathing.

Wasn't blinking.

Wasn't anything anymore.

Just a moment captured in crystal, a photograph developed in glass and silence.

My hands shook as I reached for her—touching shoulder, arm, cheek—but she gave no response.

She just stood there—trapped in time, frozen in the moment.

No flinch.

No movement.

Nothing.

Her body began to tilt, a statue losing its balance. I caught her before she could shatter against the floor, gathering her into my arms as if holding her tight enough could undo this moment, could rewrite time itself. She felt wrong in my embrace—too light, too fragile, like holding a hollow shell of the person she had been. Not my Jade anymore, just an echo trapped in crystal.

A sound tore from my throat—raw and animal and broken—as tears spilled hot and violent down my face, falling onto the smooth glass of her frozen skin.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

This couldn't be happening.

Not Jade.

Not like this.

I pressed my forehead against hers, my body shaking, my breath coming in short, uneven gasps that barely felt like breathing at all.

"You idiot."

The words came out before I even thought about them, slipping into the awful silence between us.

I could still see her smirk in my head, that teasing glint in her eyes whenever she was about to do something reckless, ridiculous, impossible.

"You never thought things through," I muttered, my fingers clenching into the torn fabric of her dress. "You always just—jumped in. Didn’t wait. Didn’t let me handle it. You just—"

I sucked in a shaky breath, but it didn’t help. It just hurt more. My body trembled, my mind spiraling, the weight of her absence pressing down so hard it felt unbearable.

"I was supposed to have your back," I whispered.

My voice cracked. "I was here. I was right here."

And yet—

She had still tried to carry it on her own.

And now—

She was gone.

I gritted my teeth, squeezing her cold, still hand, my breath stuttering.

"Damn it, Jade." My voice shook, breaking at the edges. "Why couldn’t you just—wait? Just once?"

I let out a breath that felt more like a broken laugh.

"Who the hell am I supposed to fight with now?" I murmured, voice barely there. "Who’s gonna drag me into trouble? Who’s gonna call me out when I started to overthink, lost? Who—"

I stopped, my throat locking up, my chest tightening, my hands trembling against her.

"You said you’d be here, forever" I whispered, barely a sound. "So why aren’t you?"

I had lost Henry in an instant.

Lost Alex in a heartbeat.

And now Jade—my Jade—who had always stood beside me, who pushed the boundaries of possibility itself, who always found a way to survive—

She was just... gone.

Frozen in that final terrible moment, trapped in time like a butterfly in amber, forever caught in the aftermath of a choice she should never have had to make.

Sir Nash sighed with the detached weariness of an immortal watching insects die. "There's no need to be sad about her," he said, his voice carrying the same interest one might have for dust settling. "I thought you could see everything; she was broken to begin with, sewed together by threads to create a perfect doll. She would have become something terrible soon."

I couldn't look at him. Couldn't listen. Couldn't think. Couldn't breathe.

The world had contracted to the weight of Jade's body in my arms, my heart shattering and reforming just to break again, an endless cycle of agony that would never heal.

The tears wouldn't stop.

The trembling wouldn't stop.

The pain would never stop.

Every corner of my existence was saturated with loss, drowning in grief that had no bottom, no end, no mercy.

And yet—

I was still alive.

That was the cruelest joke of all.

But then—

Something shifted.

The gasping stopped.

The breaking stopped.

Everything... stopped.

A vast, frigid emptiness settled into my chest, drowning out even my own heartbeat. The void spread through me like black ice, freezing everything it touched.

For a long moment, I just stared.

Calm.

Too calm.

This was enough.

My hand turned incorporeal, passing through my own flesh and bone like morning mist through trees. My fingers slipped past ribs as if they were merely suggestions, until they found something cold and wet and fighting—

My Heart.

It was still beating.

It shouldn't be.

How dare it continue?

I had lost everything. Felt too much.

My ribs should have collapsed under the weight of absence.

My lungs should have refused to draw another breath.

My existence should have ended the moment her's did.

And yet, my treasonous heart kept beating.

Kept pushing.

Kept forcing me to exist in a world without her.

I hated it.

My fingers tightened around the rebellious muscle, feeling its rhythm falter beneath my grip. Still it fought on, still it dragged me forward, demanding I continue this mockery of living when there was nothing left to live for.

I squeezed harder, nails biting into tender flesh, trying to crush it into something as broken as I felt inside. I wanted it to stop. I pushed aside the soul crushing pain. I wanted to tear it from my chest and hold it out to Sir Nash—this useless, persistent thing that wouldn't let me die.

And I clenched my fingers one final time.

I crushed it.

My grip turned the beating muscle to pulp, and for one perfect moment, everything went quiet.

No more beating.

No more fighting.

No more dragging me forward against my will.

Just blessed silence, spreading through my chest like ink in water, like night swallowing stars, like the end of everything.

As darkness crept in at the edges of my vision, my fingers traced her glass-like cheek, remembering how she used to smile. How her eyes would spark with mischief just before she'd lean in close. I pressed my lips to hers—cold crystal where there should have been warmth, smooth and lifeless where there should have been soft response. Remembering how much she liked to kiss. The taste of salt from my tears mixed with the metallic tang of blood from my dying heart, a bitter farewell sealed with a kiss.

"Next time," my voice barely a breath, "I'll find you sooner."

The darkness swept in like an ocean tide, and my last thought was of her silver eyes, bright with laughter, waiting somewhere in another life, in another time, in a world where we might get it right.

----------------------------------------

Ten thousand lifetimes pass beneath cold moons,

The golden dragon seeks the dance of her shadow.

What is death but morning frost on spider silk?

What is life but one breath between dreams?"

When jade shatters upon winter’s frost,

Does its essence truly fade to night?

Or does it merely sleep within the snow,

Waiting for spring’s gentle return?

Through immortal dreams and mortal dust,

Our fates are woven in stars.