Chapter 34 part 2

Chapter 34 part 2
Nyra
The staff lounge's hum fades behind us. I’m still holding my coffee and sandwich when Cassian tips his head toward the exit—not the one that leads back to Sublevel work halls, but the security doors.  

“Come on,” he says, easy as if this is nothing.  

I hesitate. “Outside?”  

He smirks. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what fresh air smells like.”  

I haven’t forgotten. I’ve just learned to live without it. Contrary to other people, I don't have reasons to see the outside of this place. We pass the reinforced glass doors, the long lobby, the last checkpoint where the guards glance up but don’t stop us. And then—cold. It wraps around my lungs in a way the recycled air inside never could. I follow him down the steps and into the dark, the facility behind us humming like a living thing we’ve slipped away from. We walk in silence at first, his hands deep in his jacket pockets, mine wrapped around my elbows. The road gives way to cracked sidewalk, then to a small park I’d almost forgotten existed—just a cluster of skeletal trees and a bench leaning under the weight of frost. He sits. I stand a moment longer before lowering myself beside him.  

“You’re different,” he says finally.  

I glance at him, unsure if it’s an accusation or something else.  

“Not like the others.” His gaze is fixed on the bare branches above us. “Most staff… they don’t look at the wolves long enough to see anything worth saving. You do.”  

I let the words hang. He leans forward, elbows on his knees.

“My family’s been at this for sixty years. Half of us work in the system—like me. Like my uncle. We get inside, gather whatever we can. Schedules. Shipments. Sedation logs. The other half…” He looks at me now, sharp. “…the other half uses that information to try and get them out.”  

I blink. The cold bites harder. “Get them out? You mean—”  

“I mean free them.” His voice drops, not out of uncertainty but because the night seems to require it. “We’ve pulled some out before. Not many. It’s dangerous, expensive, and if you’re caught…” His shrug says the rest.  

He waits until I meet his eyes. “I want your help.”  

A laugh almost rises, sharp and disbelieving. “Help? I’m barely past probation.”  

“Exactly. You’re quiet. Careful. No one suspects you, but I’ve seen you.” His mouth quirks, not a smile but close. “You notice things. You remember them.”  

My fingers tighten on my elbows. “What are you asking for?”  

“Information.” He straightens. “On the gamma. And on the alpha. Sublevel 3 isn’t my floor—yet. No one wants the alpha, so I’m hoping to get assigned eventually. Until then, I need someone who can get close without raising alarms.”  

The park is too quiet. Even the wind seems to pause. I don’t answer right away. My mind keeps pulling back to the sound of Rane’s voice in the dark. The weight of his name in my chest. Cassian studies me, waiting.  I watch the frost glint along the bench’s edge. My breath fogs in front of me, slow and deliberate, as if the act of exhaling will give away too much.  

“You think I can get close to him without raising alarms?” I ask finally.  

“I know you can.” Cassian leans back, stretching his legs. “The alpha’s handlers hate being near him. The gamma tolerates you. That’s already more than most can claim.”  

He says it like it’s fact, not a compliment.  

“What makes you so sure I’d risk it? How do you even know to trust me?”  

His eyes find mine again, sharp enough to slice through the dark. “Because you already care. And people who care either burn out… or burn the place down.”  

The words land heavier than the cold. I should say no. I should tell him I’m not that person. But the image of Rane’s restraints flashes in my mind, the way his voice had sounded when he said my name. That steady, suffocating pull between us has only grown, threading through every decision I make. My answer isn’t yes—but it’s not no, either.  

Instead, I ask, “What would you need first?”  

Cassian exhales like he’s been holding his breath. “Sedative schedules. Feeding routines. Anything unusual—extra security, missing rations, new staff rotations. Doesn’t have to be big. Small details pile up.”  

I nod once, committing the words to memory.  We sit there a moment longer, letting the silence stretch until it feels like part of the agreement. Then he pushes to his feet, brushing frost from his coat.  

“Come on. Before they notice. Fun's over.”  

We walk back the way we came, the hum of the facility growing louder with every step. The warmth inside hits me like a wall, but I can still feel the cold clinging to my skin, sharper now that I’ve agreed—at least in part—to something I can’t take back. Cassian doesn’t say another word until we reach the split in the hallway. He tips his head toward me. “Think about it. And be careful.”  

When he’s gone, I stand there a moment longer, fingers tingling, pulse a little too quick. By the time I’m back in my room, I realize I’ve already started planning.