The collapsing mountain facility lit up the night sky like a funeral pyre. Aria, Rogue, and Emma ran through the dense forest, snow and ash mixing underfoot. Emma’s breathing was labored, her wound bleeding through fresh bandages. Rogue supported her on one side while Aria took the other. The narrow game trail forced them into single file at times, bodies brushing constantly, every stumble pressing them closer in the darkness.
“We’re not stopping,” Rogue growled, checking over his shoulder. “The true Architect is still out there. He wants us back at the beginning — the diner on the highway where I first claimed you.”
Aria’s chest tightened. The core struggle burned hotter than the flames behind them: every step forward felt like walking back into the arms of the machine that had tried to
