They didn't drive. Too easy to track.
Instead, they vanished into the underground like smoke Sam leading, bare feet hitting damp concrete, the city's bones echoing around them.
Lilly followed, blood still sticky on her shirt from Alyx. She hadn't asked questions. Not yet. But her mind was a live wire of them.
Because Sam wasn't hesitating. Wasn't crying.
She was navigating.
Like she knew this.
Like she'd done this.
"Where are we going?" Lilly finally asked.
Sam didn't look back. "Somewhere no one remembers I know."
They ducked under rusted grates and into a forgotten tunnel behind a graffiti-stained maintenance door. The air smelled like wet earth and regret. Lilly scanned every corner like muscle memory, but Sam? She moved like a ghost who'd lived here before.
Three turns later, they reached it: a room the size of a shipping container, lined with old crates, flickering fluorescent lights, and a wall of encrypted tech that didn't belong in a sewer.
"What is this?" Lilly asked, low, guarded.
Sam finally turned. "My Plan B."
"You have a Plan B?"
Sam tilted her head, a little smug, a little sad. "You're not the only one with trust issues, babe."
Lilly blinked. "Who the hell are you?"
Sam stepped closer. "The daughter of a man who taught me to smile while hiding a knife. Who paid for my ballet classes and taught me how to disarm a pistol in under ten seconds. Who raised me like a princess and trained me like an asset."
She exhaled. Shook her head.
"I just stopped playing the game. Doesn't mean I forgot how to win it."
And that? That did something to Lilly. Twisted something in her chest. The version of Sam she'd built—the soft, smart, wounded thing—shattered. In her place stood a girl who had learned survival the same way Lilly had.
Through fire.
Before Lilly could say anything, one of the screens blinked on.
Static. Then a voice.
"Hello, Little Shadow."
Lilly froze.
That voice—smoke and velvet, all poison and poetry.
Ava.
Her first love. Her first mission gone wrong.The girl who should be dead.
Sam glanced over, but Lilly had already gone cold.
"Surprised to see me?" Ava purred from the screen. Her image flickered into view—older, sharper, like a memory sharpened into a knife.
"I heard about your new girl. She's cute. Naïve. You always did like the ones who needed saving."
Lilly's pulse thundered. "What do you want?"
Ava smiled like a threat. "You. Of course."
Sam's hand found Lilly's, but her eyes stayed on the screen. Reading between the lines.
"I gave you a warning, once," Ava continued. "You didn't listen. So now? I'm not warning you anymore."
The screen cut to black.
Silence.
Sam turned to her. "Who was that?"
Lilly looked down at their hands—Sam's fingers wrapped around hers, warm, grounding—and pulled away.
"She's a ghost," Lilly whispered. "And I didn't bury her deep enough."