The hybrid's red optic pulsed, scanning the room again with slow, deliberate sweeps. The whimper from under the cot seemed to echo louder, sharper, as if daring the world to notice.
Everyone froze.
Even the air itself seemed to hold its breath.
"Unverified presence detected," the hybrid intoned again, monotone but lethal.
Foden's fingers inched toward his weapon. Ivy subtly shifted her weight, shielding the hidden infant with her body. Kale's face was pale, slick with sweat, ready to bolt.
The hybrid stepped forward.
Another pulse of red light beamed out from its palm, washing over the crates. This time, the scanner emitted a soft chime—not the harsh alert they feared, but something... different.
The hybrid paused.
Its mechanical eye blinked once. Then twice, slower.
"Authority marker identified."
It straightened, almost reverently. The entire posture of the machine changed—from the cold menace of a hunter to the rigid stillness of a soldier awaiting orders.
"Directive update. Priority asset secured."
The humans blinked, stunned.
The hybrid turned its full attention to the hidden child.
"Designation: Galvano. Status: Protected by Order 17-X."
Foden's jaw almost dropped before he caught himself. Ivy's heart slammed against her ribs, while Kale stared like he was witnessing a hallucination.
The hybrid turned its head back toward Foden, tilting at an unnatural angle.
"Proceed with your journey. Do not interfere with the Directive."
Without another word, the hybrid stepped back, turned on its heel, and marched into the mist beyond the cliff, disappearing into the blackened woods with eerie precision.
The bunker hatch clanged shut behind it.
Silence. Only the ragged breathing of the trio—and the tiny, innocent whimper from the baby hidden among the crates.
Foden finally exhaled, long and slow.
He crouched, pulling back the jackets. Ivy leaned closer, her hands trembling.
The baby blinked up at them, wrapped in worn cloth, a faint metallic glint visible around his wrist—the bracelet his mother had left him.
And now, for the first time, Foden saw it closely:
Etched into the bracelet's metal was a sigil—something ancient and official, something even the machines bowed to.
Chapter End.