Glass Between Us

Glass Between Us


Daniel stood in the doorway, framed by dust and fractured light, the ruin of the wall around him bleeding smoke into the air. His clothes were torn, but not enough. His hair was matted, but not with blood. And in his right hand, catching the flicker of failing lights, was a small black detonator.

And he was smiling.

Not the relief-smile of someone who’d just been rescued. Not the bitter twist of someone who’d survived against odds. No. This was calm. Certain. Like he had been waiting for this exact moment, and now it had arrived exactly as he planned.

“Daniel,” I said. My voice felt smaller than it should have been.

He didn’t look at me when he answered. “You made it.”

Jessa’s rifle came up immediately, sight leveled between his eyes. “Step away from that wall.”

“I’m not in your way,” he said, almost conversational. His thumb brushed the side of the detonator, not pressing—just reminding us it was there. “But you’re in mine.”

The rest of the room was too quiet. The others—the handful of us who’d made it this far—stood frozen, breath shallow. Even Vale, who was never still, didn’t move.

“What’s going on?” Tessa asked, voice low but sharp.

Daniel’s eyes flicked to her, then back to me. “Ask Eliza.”

My stomach dropped. “I don’t know what you—”

“You do.”

I hated that part of me did know. The way Marley’s voice had gone tight when she mentioned the North Ridge drop. The way Daniel had been just a little too willing to fall behind in the vaults, the way we’d assumed he was gone because—because it was easier to think he’d been taken than to consider the alternative.

Jessa didn’t lower her rifle. “If you’re going to tell us you’ve been working for the Institute this whole time—”

Daniel’s smile thinned. “The Institute? No. They’re just one head of the same creature. Cut it off, another grows. I’m not wasting my life on that.”

Tessa took a step toward him. “Then who are you working for?”

He raised the detonator slightly, enough to freeze her mid-step. “The ones who don’t lose.”

Something hot burned through my chest. “That’s what this is? You disappear, you come back, and you’re holding a trigger to… what? Blow the whole sector?”

His gaze finally locked with mine. “Not the whole sector. Just the rest of this building. The archive node is already gone. But you’re holding something they can’t get back.”

I glanced down at my palm without meaning to. The disc was still there, faintly pulsing like a trapped heartbeat.

“You want it,” I said.

“No,” he replied. “They do. I just want to make sure it ends up where it should.”

Jessa shifted her aim from his head to the detonator. “And I’m supposed to believe you’re not about to vaporize us?”

Daniel tilted his head. “If I wanted to, I wouldn’t be talking.”

There was movement behind him. Shadows in the smoke. For a second I thought it was more mercenaries, but then I realized—the shapes didn’t move like trained fighters. They stumbled. Staggered. Survivors. People who’d been in the wrong place when the fighting started.

He glanced back at them, almost absently. “They’re with me. They get out, or this whole place goes down early.”

Vale muttered, “This is insane.”

“Insane,” Daniel agreed. “But necessary.”

Tessa’s voice cracked into the air like a whip. “Necessary for who?”

“For everyone who doesn’t know yet,” he said. “The data you’re carrying—half of it will start riots. The other half will end them. You think you’re the first to try this? Marley wasn’t the first, either. But you—” His eyes burned into me now. “—you might be the first who can get it through without selling it halfway.”

Jessa didn’t lower her weapon. “So you’re threatening us because… what? You want to tag along?”

“Because,” he said, “I know where the drop is. And the way you’re planning to go—” He shook his head. “You won’t make it. The Institute already has eyes on the Ridge.”

My throat tightened. Marley hadn’t said anything about that. Maybe she didn’t know. Or maybe she did, and she wanted us to try anyway.

Daniel stepped forward. Just one pace, but it felt closer than it should have. “You want this key to reach the broadcast point? You need me. I’ve been in places you haven’t even guessed are still standing.”

“And if we say no?” Vale asked.

He didn’t blink. “Then I walk out with these people, close the door behind me, and the charges drop before you can reach the next stairwell.”

I realized then—the building was wired. I could hear it now, faintly, beneath the rumble of distant gunfire. A soft ticking through the walls.

Tessa cursed under her breath.

Leigh, who had been silent until now, spoke. “You were in the lower ring longer than any of us. You had time to set it.”

Daniel didn’t deny it.

We stood there too long, breathing smoke and suspicion.

Finally, I said, “Fine. You lead us. But you don’t touch the disc.”

He smiled again, smaller this time. “I don’t need to.”

Jessa lowered her rifle just enough to stop looking like she’d fire on reflex. “Where?”

“There’s a service tunnel three floors down,” he said. “Runs under the east transit rails. No sensors left, no patrols. Brings us within two klicks of the drop without crossing any of their surveillance nets.”

Vale frowned. “And the charges?”

“They’re staying where they are,” Daniel said. “Insurance.”

I wanted to hit him. Instead, I closed my fist around the disc and followed when he turned toward the corridor.

The survivors trailed behind us, eyes wide, skin gray from dust and fear. Some limped. One carried a child wrapped in a torn blanket. They didn’t speak, and we didn’t ask questions.

We moved fast, Daniel guiding us down half-collapsed stairwells and through narrow halls that smelled of burnt wiring. Twice we had to stop when mercenaries passed close enough for us to hear their boots. Once, we had to double back entirely when a section of the floor gave way into open flame.

By the time we reached the first sublevel, the air was so thick with heat that my lungs burned. Daniel didn’t slow. He moved like someone who knew every corner of the place, every hazard before it appeared.

I wanted to hate that he was right.

The service tunnel was worse than I’d imagined—half-flooded, reeking of mold and stagnant water. The sound of it sloshing around our boots was loud enough to make me nervous. But Daniel swore no one patrolled it, and for once, I believed him.

We were halfway through when the first explosion hit.

It wasn’t close—two levels above, maybe more—but it was enough to send a rain of dust and shattered concrete into the water.

Tessa spun toward him. “What the hell was that?”

“Pressure release,” he said without turning. “Means they’re getting desperate.”

“Or it means someone just triggered your bombs early.”

He didn’t answer.

The next blast came sooner. Closer.

The survivors started panicking, shoving forward to get ahead of us. Daniel held up a hand, forcing them back. “Running blind is how you drown in here. Stay close, stay slow.”

But then the water started to rise.

Vale swore. “We’ve got a breach behind us.”

Daniel’s eyes met mine. “If we don’t move now, we lose everything.”

The tunnel narrowed into a single choke point ahead—barely wide enough for one person at a time. We pushed through in a line, the water climbing to my knees, my thighs.

Another explosion. The tunnel shuddered.

I stumbled, catching myself on the wall. My palm hit the concrete, hard enough to jolt the disc. It pulsed—once, twice—like it could feel the danger.

We made it through the choke point and into a wider chamber, the ceiling dripping. Daniel checked something on the far wall—a panel, half-hidden under grime. He pried it open, revealing an old maintenance hatch.

“This is it,” he said.

He swung it open, revealing a steep ladder dropping into darkness.

Tessa peered down. “Where does it go?”

“Under the rails,” he said. “And then out.”

The water behind us was still rising. The survivors were pushing forward, voices breaking with fear.

Daniel looked at me. “You go first. You’re carrying the key.”

I hesitated.

The water reached my waist.

Tessa swore. “We don’t have time—”

A sound cut her off.

From somewhere beyond the chamber, through the tunnel we’d just crossed, came the low, mechanical whine of a drone. Not Institute—different pitch. Meaner.

Daniel’s smile faded.

“They found us,” he said.

And then the first drone slipped into view, red light scanning through the rising water.