Chapter 81: Flickering red haze

Cherie twisted in front of the cracked mirror, watching the light catch on the rhinestones stitched into her letterman jacket.

The thing clung to her like armor made of glitter and defiance. Her ripped jean shorts rode up as she shifted, and without looking, she hooked a finger beneath the hem—

Snap.

She let it fall back into place, satisfied, then lifted the studded bat and rested it across her shoulder like it belonged there.

“You know this isn’t a fashion contest, right?”

Cherie’s reflection froze.

She turned to find Aubrey standing in the doorway, jaw tight, rifle hanging low in her grip like it weighed more than usual.

Cherie rolled her shoulder once, unimpressed.

“…This is how I feel comfortable while fighting,” she shot back. “Deal with it.”

Aubrey didn’t answer.

She only tightened her grip on the rifle, knuckles whitening, before turning back toward the mirror herself.

Behind her, the headquarters buzzed.

Boots thudded against concrete. Velcro straps tore open and sealed again. Magazines were checked. Bolts racked. Quiet voices murmured through plans they’d already memorized twice. Everyone moved with purpose—but beneath it all was something brittle.

Urgency.

Aubrey’s eyes scanned the room, catching fragments of motion without really seeing them.

What if we’re too late?

The thought pressed against her chest like a weight.

What if the Adrian we know is already gone by the time we get there?

She swallowed and forced her shoulders back.

At the far end of the quarters, Callahan stood near the doorway with a handful of armed volunteers. His posture was rigid, unreadable.

Beyond him, Dr. Tekashi was mid-briefing, hands moving as he spoke, while Dr. Josephine stood beside him—close enough that it was obvious they’d spent the last hour arguing themselves into agreement.

It was still a miracle they were here at all.

Tekashi cleared his throat.

“Our objectives are simple,” he said, voice steady. “We retrieve Adrian Carter. And we secure infected samples.”

A few soldiers exchanged looks.

“Two variations minimum,” Tekashi continued. “Baseline infected and abnormal. If possible—” he hesitated only slightly, “—an intelligent strain. Live capture is preferable. These samples could be key to understanding mutation patterns. Treatment. Control.”

Josephine shifted beside him.

She gulped, fingers twisting together at her waist.

Aubrey noticed.

“Based on what we know,” Tekashi added carefully, “the Crucible’s leader—Vivian—exhibits signs of an intelligent strain.”

A beat.

“And so does Lila.”

That did it. The room was too tight for gasps.

Aubrey’s brow furrowed, lips parting as she stepped forward—

Before a hand settled on her shoulder.

Hale.

She stiffened, then looked up at him.

He leaned in just enough for only her to hear.

“This is the only way they’ll help us,” he said quietly. “Saving Adrian and getting those samples—it’s the same operation. Same window. Same risk.”

Aubrey didn’t respond.

Across the room, Cherie watched the exchange in the mirror, bat resting against her shoulder, jaw set just a little tighter than before.

Callahan’s voice cut through the clatter of the quarters.

“Aubrey.”

She was already halfway through the door. Slowly, she turned back. The distance between them made it feel like a challenge.

“Got something to say?” she asked flatly.

Callahan folded his arms, jaw tight.

“You’re seriously sticking your neck out for this,” Aubrey continued, voice sharp, controlled—but barely. “And don’t bullshit me. This isn’t about saving Adrian.”

A few heads nearby stilled. The air went tense.

“This is about samples,” she said. “About what Tekashi and Josephine want. Not about him. You people don’t care about anything but yourselves.”

For a moment, Callahan didn’t answer.

Then he exhaled—long and tired—like a man who’d already had this argument in his head a hundred times.

“I get it,” he said. “You want to save your friend.”

He looked up at her now, eyes hard but not cruel.

“But Adrian Carter?” Callahan continued. “If what Josephine says is true—if that lattice process has already started—then he’s running out of time.”

Aubrey’s fingers tightened.

“If it weren’t for those samples,” he went on, voice lower now, “I wouldn’t be authorizing this. I wouldn’t be risking people. I wouldn’t be burning fuel, ammo, or time on organizations like the Crucible.”

A pause.

“But if we can pull him out before that process finishes,” Callahan added, quieter, “then we save him—and we stop them from ever finishing it on anyone else.”

His gaze shifted.

Just briefly.

To Adira.

She stood off to the side, arms crossed, expression unreadable. The silence between them was heavy with history.

“And if it weren’t for my duty as a soldier,” Callahan finished, “I wouldn’t be doing this at all.”

That one landed.

Aubrey said nothing.

Neither did Adira.

Callahan let the silence stretch—then turned away from them both.

“Get the Humvees ready,” he barked, already moving. “We roll out as soon as possible.”

The machine sat silent now, humming faintly, but the tension in the room made it feel alive. Three scientists moved around me, rifles trembling in their hands, sweat gleaming on their foreheads.

Their whispers were lost under the static hum in my ears. I didn’t even try to listen anymore—I was too exhausted, too hollow to care.

Then, without warning, the machine roared to life once again. Lights blinked. Metal groaned. A pulse of energy rolled across the floor and into my limbs, making every nerve stand on edge. My eyes squeezed shut.

And then—chaos.

The scientist nearest the machine crumpled, a thin spray of blood arching from his neck. Another at the doorway went down in the same instant. The third never had a chance.

My breath caught.

The doorway slammed open. Guns flashed, hot and bright. Aubrey and Adira moved like shadows made real—fast, precise, terrifying. Spent casings bounced across the floor. The acrid tang of gunpowder stung my nose.

Adira’s eyes went straight to the machine. With one sharp motion, she twisted the power switch. The humming died. Silence reclaimed the room.

Aubrey lunged at me. Her arms wrapped around my chest, tight, desperate. I wanted to hug her back, wanted to squeeze her until the world made sense again, but the restraints held me like iron.

Her tears soaked into my shirt. I could feel every sob, every tremble, every tiny heartbeat against my own.

A sharp tug. Adira stepped in, slicing the restraints with a flick of her knife. The mouth guard came free, wet with saliva and taste of my own panic. I gasped, drawing my first full breath in what felt like hours.

“Can you move?” Aubrey asked, voice tight.

I nodded slowly, though my limbs felt like they were filled with lead. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, muscles trembling. My fingers gripped the mattress for balance.

Aubrey and Adira exchanged a glance, silent, urgent. Then, without a word, they moved to guide me out.

Somewhere behind me, the lifeless bodies of the scientists sprawled across the floor, the faint metallic scent of blood mixing with the hum of the room.

I blinked, focusing on Aubrey’s face—tears streaked, eyes fierce—and felt something that hadn’t been here for too long: hope.

The red haze from the emergency lights smeared across the walls, cutting jagged lines across Hailey’s face. Every shadow seemed alive, dancing across the restraints that bit into Lila’s wrists and ankles.

Hailey’s chest rose and fell in shallow, deliberate bursts. She didn’t speak at first. The hum of electricity and distant alarms made the air thick, heavy, suffocating.

Finally, she whispered, low and deliberate, each word trembling with barely contained rage.

“I could kill you right now if I wanted to.”

Lila didn’t flinch. Her chest rose slowly, shoulders tense, wrists scraping against the chains. The restraint held her like a leash—but even bound, she radiated danger.

Hailey took another careful step forward, eyes narrowing. Veins spread across the whites of her eyes like lightning, and the knife in her pocket caught the red glow. Her gun clattered to the floor, metal ringing against concrete.

From then, it was clear.

She was not under Vivian’s control anymore.

“After all… you’re the one who did this to me.”

Her voice cracked. Tremors shook the words as they spilled out.

“Infected me with your sickness. Made me into a monster.”

Her steps were slow. The grip on her knife increased at that. Nothing was stopping her from doing what she pleased. Taking revenge. In her eyes, Lila had deserved every single bit of it.

And then—bang.

The rifle report shattered the tension. Pain exploded across Hailey’s back, knocking her forward onto the floor. Her knees hit hard. Chains screamed with the motion.

Lila’s eyes narrowed, cold and calculating. She didn’t move, didn’t react in panic. Just watched.

Through the flickering red haze, Hailey’s former enforcer, Naomi, stepped into view, rifle raised, chest heaving, eyes locked on Hailey. Silent. Precise. Deadly.

Lila had recognized her instantly.

She was the one Adrian held hostage back at the camp in St. Louis. The one that had been used for leverage.

What a way things had changed.

The air shifted. Hailey’s moment of fury had been intercepted. The predator now faced another predator, and the rules of this fight had changed in an instant.

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