Sacrifice

The blood was fresh. Bright red smears on the grey linoleum, stark under the strobing emergency lights. It looked like Dante had dragged himself—or been dragged—toward the security hub.

"Felix," I said, my voice tight. "Can you track him?"

"I'm trying," Felix said, tapping furiously on his datapad. "But the lockdown scrambled the internal sensors. I'm blind."

"We follow the blood," I said.

We moved down the corridor, weapons raised. The silence of the tower was broken only by the hiss of the Halon gas dissipating through the vents. My heart hammered against my ribs. Dante had gone down to the basement to loop the sensors. He should have been safe.

Unless the basement wasn't empty.

The trail led to a heavy steel door marked *Server Access*. It was slightly ajar.

I pushed it open with the barrel of my gun.

The room was a wreck. Servers were overturned, cables ripped from the walls, sparking and sizzling. And in the center of the chaos, slumped against a mainframe, was a man.

But it wasn't Dante.

It was Kael.

The Chief of Security was dead, a knife buried in his chest. I recognized the hilt. It was Dante's.

"He fought," Felix whispered. "He took down Kael."

"Where is he?" I scanned the room. There was no sign of Dante. Only more blood, leading to a service hatch in the floor.

"The tunnels," I realized. "He went into the maintenance shafts."

"Why?" Felix asked. "Why not come back to us?"

"Because he's leading them away," I said, a cold realization settling in my stomach. "He knew he was compromised. He knew if he came back to the elevator, he'd lead the rest of the team right to us."

I moved to the hatch. It was welded shut from the inside.

"He sealed it," I said, pounding on the metal. "Dante! Can you hear me?"

Silence.

"We have to go, Aria," Felix said, grabbing my arm. "The Broker's team is sweeping the building. If we stay, his sacrifice means nothing."

I looked at the hatch. I wanted to scream. I wanted to tear the metal apart with my bare hands. But Felix was right. Dante had bought us time. I couldn't waste it.

"We go to the roof," I said. "We signal the sub."

We ran back to the elevator. The ascent felt like an eternity. When the doors opened on the roof, the wind hit us, carrying the smell of the sea and rain.

I pulled out my flare gun. "Get ready."

I fired. The red flare arced into the night sky, a burning star against the clouds.

Seconds later, the water in the bay churned. The submarine surfaced, its hatch popping open.

Vesper was there, waving us down.

We scrambled down the fire escape ladder to the pier. We jumped onto the deck just as the first bullets pinged off the hull.

"Where's Dante?" Vesper asked as we tumbled inside.

"He didn't make it," I said, my voice hollow.

The hatch sealed. The sub dove.

I sat on the floor, clutching the vial of precursor to my chest. We had the cure. We had survived.

But the cost was too high.

I looked at Elena, who was sleeping in the corner. I looked at the vial.

"Let's make this worth it," I whispered.

We set up a makeshift lab in the galley. Elena woke up, groggy but lucid. She guided me through the synthesis, her voice steady as she recited the chemical bonds.

"Mix the stabilizer with the precursor," she said. "Slowly. If it heats up too fast, it degrades."

I worked with trembling hands. The liquid in the beaker turned from clear to a deep, vibrant blue.

"It's done," I said.

"Now we need to inject it," Elena said. "Directly into the heart. It's the only way to flush the system instantly."

She lay back on the table, baring her chest.

"Do it, Aria."

I filled the syringe. The blue liquid glowed in the dim light.

"I'm scared," I admitted.

"Me too," she said. "But I trust you."

I positioned the needle. I took a breath.

And I pushed it in.

Elena gasped, her back arching off the table. Her veins turned black, then blue, then clear. She screamed, a sound of pure agony that tore through the ship.

Then, silence.

She went limp.

"Elena?" I whispered.

I checked her pulse.

Nothing.

"No," I said. "No, no, no."

I started compressions. "Don't you dare die on me. Not now."

"Aria," Felix said softly.

"Shut up!" I screamed. "Come on, Elena!"

I pumped her chest. One minute. Two.

And then, a gasp.

A ragged, desperate intake of air.

Elena’s eyes flew open. They were blue. Clear, bright, human blue.

She looked at me. Recognition flooded her face.

"Aria," she whispered. "You came back."

I collapsed against her, sobbing. "I promised."

She held me, her hands weak but steady.

"We're safe," she said. "It's over."

But it wasn't.

The ship shuddered. A deafening *clang* echoed through the hull.

"What was that?" Vesper shouted from the bridge.

"Sonar contact!" the pilot yelled. "Massive! It's right on top of us!"

"The destroyer?" I asked, running to the door.

"No," Seraphina said, her voice turning cold. "It's bigger."

The ship groaned, metal screeching as something latched onto the hull.

The airlock wheel began to turn.

"They're boarding us," Vesper said, drawing her weapon.

I raised my gun. I stood in front of Elena.

The airlock hissed open.

Steam poured in.

And through the mist, a figure stepped out.

It wasn't the Broker. It wasn't a soldier.

It was a man in a wheelchair. His face was scarred, half-covered by a respirator mask. But his eyes... I knew those eyes.

Cold. Calculating. Dead.

"Hello, daughter," Lucius said.