Chapter 46: The Cracks We Carry
“So,” Elena said as she burst into the armory like she owned the place (which, honestly, she sort of did), “I had a dream that Ethan alphabetized the grenades by how dramatic the explosions would look on camera.”
Ethan didn’t even look up from his workstation. “That’s… actually a brilliant idea.”
“Ethan,” she said slowly, leaning on the table across from him. “They’re grenades. They go boom. That’s it. That’s the entire job description.”
“But imagine if we sorted them by intensity—like theatrical categories. ‘Mildly Angry Boom,’ ‘Heartbreak Boom,’ ‘End of the World Boom.’” He grinned. “We’d save so much time.”
“I am begging you to touch grass.”
“I went outside two days ago.”
“To reboot a satellite dish, not to connect with nature, you vampire.”
“I got a sunburn. That counts.”
Elena rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. And for the first time in a while, the air in the estate felt lighter.
\---
In the main hall, I was reviewing intel with Aidan, who, for once, wasn’t pacing. He sat close beside me, his arm brushing mine, and I didn’t move away. We were pouring over heat signatures from the outposts we’d set up when Ethan’s voice crackled through the intercom.
“Uh, heads up. One of the hybrids rewired the toaster to alert us of perimeter breaches. If anyone hears Green Day’s American Idiot blasting from the kitchen, don’t be alarmed.”
I blinked. “What?”
“He said it was more efficient than sirens,” Ethan added. “I didn’t disagree fast enough and now it’s… functional.”
Aidan pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’re being guarded by a weaponized toaster.”
“At least it has taste,” Elena’s voice chimed in. “I could’ve gotten behind Bohemian Rhapsody, but noooo…”
A beat passed. Then: “...it also shoots toast. Just a heads up.”
\---
Later that afternoon, I passed by the training room to check in on Rhea.
To my surprise, she wasn’t alone.
Echo stood across from her, both of them barefoot, mirroring each other’s stance.
“Okay,” Echo said gently. “Focus on your balance, not your fists. If you only rely on power, you leave yourself open.”
Rhea nodded, concentrating.
They moved slowly, like dancers—measured steps, subtle feints, quiet precision. I stayed out of sight, watching.
“I’m not good at holding back,” Rhea admitted after a few missed counters.
“That’s because you’ve never been taught how. You were trained to break. Not to think.”
“Isn’t breaking what we’re for?”
Echo stepped closer. “No. Breaking is what they used you for. What you’re for now… that’s your decision.”
Rhea looked at her for a long moment, then gave a small, almost hesitant nod.
I left them to it. That kind of trust-building didn’t need an audience.
\---
Meanwhile, Ethan had started an unofficial betting pool in the tech room.
“Okay, hear me out,” he told Elena, waving a whiteboard like it was a sacred relic. “We bet on who’s most likely to accidentally trigger a power surge in the estate.”
“Is Rhea on that list?” Elena asked, raising a brow.
“She’s in the top three,” Ethan said proudly. “Right behind you.”
She looked mildly offended. “Excuse me? I haven’t fried anything in weeks.”
“You sneezed and blew out the generator last Tuesday.”
“It was dusty! And that was barely a surge.”
“I had to reboot the entire comms hub.”
Elena shrugged. “Sounds like a you problem.”
Ethan grinned. “You’re lucky I like you.”
Elena froze, not expecting that.
The room went oddly quiet.
Ethan blinked. “Did I just say that out loud?”
“Yup,” Elena replied, biting the inside of her cheek.
“I meant—like, platonically. Like… I tolerate your presence more than most. In a deeply respectful and incredibly professional way.”
“Ethan.”
“Yeah?”
“I like you too.”
There was a full second where they just stared at each other. Then, in classic Elena fashion, she cleared her throat and tossed a screwdriver at him. “Now fix the toaster or I’ll replace your fingers with USB ports.”
“Romantic,” Ethan muttered, ducking.
\---
That night, Aidan and I walked the perimeter.
It was quiet.
Still.
But not peaceful.
“You feel that?” he asked softly.
I nodded. “It’s like the calm before…”
“The kind of storm we don’t come back from.”
We paused near the east wall, watching the trees sway in the cold wind.
“I’ve been thinking,” Aidan said. “About what comes after this. If there is an after.”
I looked at him. “What do you see?”
“You,” he said simply. “Someplace warm. No more war rooms. No more blood.”
My chest tightened. “Sounds impossible.”
“Doesn’t mean we stop dreaming about it.”
“I never pictured myself having an ‘after,’” I admitted. “I was always too focused on surviving.”
“Well…” He reached for my hand, and I let him take it. “Maybe we start picturing it together.”
\---
In the control room later that night, Echo stood near the screen, staring at new movement logs.
“Someone’s moving near Outpost Four,” she said, voice low.
I joined her, eyes narrowing. “Hybrid?”
“Maybe. Or a scout. They’re smart. Patterned. This isn’t random.”
“We should check it out.”
“I’ll go,” she offered quickly.
“You won’t go alone.”
She looked at me, then nodded once.
Just as I turned to leave, Rhea entered the room.
“There’s something wrong,” she said quietly.
Ethan looked up from his console. “With the sensors?”
“No.” Rhea stepped closer. “With the air. I don’t know how to explain it… but I think someone’s already inside.”
We all froze.
“Where?” I asked.
Rhea turned slowly, eyes scanning the hallway.
Then she pointed toward the west wing.
“There.”
A chill crawled down my spine.
Because that’s where the holding cells were.
And they were supposed to be empty.