The psychic snap of the connection breaking felt like a rubber band against the inside of Ruben's skull.
He gasped, stumbling back from the window as the golden motes of his dissolved dragon faded from his mind's eye. The sensation hadn't been pain, exactly, it was a violation. It was the feeling of being watched through a keyhole, of a cold, indifferent eye staring directly into his soul from miles away.
Ruben scrambled for his hoodie, his hands shaking so violently he couldn't get his arms through the sleeves. He shoved his head through the neck hole, gasping for air, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.
"Ruben?" Corbin stood up from the bed, his brow furrowed. "What is going on?"
"I messed up," Ruben choked out, finally yanking the jumper down over his torso. He was sweating, cold, clammy sweat. "I think I really messed up."
"How?" Corbin stepped closer, his voice dropping. "Did the dragon crash?"
"He found us," Ruben whispered, his eyes wide and frantic. "Paul. I think he figured out where we are."
"How?" Corbin demanded, his hands balling into fists.
"I don't know!" Ruben ran a hand over his short dreads, pulling at them. "I just... I felt something weird. One second the dragon was scouting, and the next... it was like something grabbed it and killed it. But also, I'm pretty sure I felt him looking right at me."
Ruben spun around, his eyes locking on the closed door to the next room. Oscar.
"We have to go," Ruben said, panic rising in his throat. He lunged for the door. "We have to grab the kid and run. If he knows where we are, he's coming. We have five minutes, maybe less."
"Whoa, whoa!" Corbin grabbed Ruben by the back of his hoodie, jerking him backward before he could touch the handle. "What the hell are you doing?"
"We're leaving!" Ruben shouted, though he kept his voice to a harsh whisper. "We can't be here when he shows up!"
"And go where?" Corbin hissed, spinning Ruben around to face him. "The streets? The sewers? We already played that hand. And what about the old man?"
Ruben froze. Konrad.
"If we leave," Corbin said, his face inches from Ruben's, "and Paul Strahm kicks down that front door looking for his battery, do you think he's going to ask Konrad politely where we went? He'll tear this house apart. He'll kill him. Just for being in the way."
Ruben closed his eyes, the image of the solemn, lonely old man washing dishes in his empty kitchen flashing through his mind. "Then we stay," Ruben said desperately. "We wait him out. We beat him down here."
Thwack.
Corbin open-hand slapped the back of Ruben's head. Not hard enough to injure, but hard enough to rattle his teeth.
"Think, man!" Corbin growled. "We don't know what he's capable of. The kid said he can make invisible walls, crush things without touching them. And he is hellbent on getting that boy back. If we turn this house into a warzone, Konrad dies in the crossfire. We can't protect a civilian, a hostage, and ourselves all at once."
Ruben rubbed the back of his head, the sting clearing the fog of panic. He looked at the floor, his breathing ragged. Corbin was right. They were cornered. They were two teenagers with powers they barely understood, fighting a terrorist who had turned a child into a biological weapon.
"And the kid..." Ruben muttered, looking back at Oscar's door. The guilt was a physical weight in his stomach. "We probably can't actually help him, Corbin. Not really. He needs doctors. He needs that medicine, or something like it. If we keep dragging him around, he's going to detonate. We're just... we're prolonging the inevitable."
Ruben looked up, his amber eyes hardening with a new, dangerous resolve.
"What if we bring the Paladins here?"
Corbin blinked, stepping back. "What? Are you crazy? We're wanted."
"I know," Ruben said, his mind racing, constructing the tactical map. "But think about it. If Paul comes here, it's just us versus him. We lose, or Konrad dies. But if the Paladins are here... it's a three-way fight. A mess. A big, chaotic mess."
Ruben began to pace, his hands moving as he spoke. "We tip them off. We say there's been a sighting of the Gresham fugitives at this address. They won't send an army for a sighting, they'll send a scout, maybe two."
"And then what?" Corbin asked, skeptical but listening.
"Then Paul shows up," Ruben said. "And suddenly the Paladins aren't fighting us, they're fighting the Mime. They'll have to protect the civilian. They'll take custody of Oscar."
Ruben's voice cracked slightly. "They can get him help, Corbin. Real help. They have the labs, the doctors and the medicine. We really have nothing."
"You want to give him up?" Corbin asked softly.
"I just rather for him to live," Ruben said, the admission tasting like ash. "We can't save him. We're just keeping him as a pet while he slowly dies. If the Paladins take him... at least he has a chance."
"And us?"
"We use the chaos," Ruben said. "When the Paladins engage Paul, we slip out the back. We make a run for the train while everyone is distracted."
Corbin stared at him for a long moment. It was risky. It was insane. It relied on timing, luck, and the assumption that the Paladins would prioritize one terrorist over two.
But it was the only play that didn't end with Konrad dead or Oscar melting down.
"It's a huge gamble," Corbin muttered, rubbing his jaw.
"I know," Ruben said. "But we're out of chips."
Corbin let out a heavy sigh. He looked at the door where Oscar was sleeping, then at the hallway leading down to where Konrad was reading his paper.
"Fine," Corbin said. "Let's burn it down."
He walked over to the wall-mounted landline phone in the hallway. He picked up the receiver, the dial tone humming in the silence. He looked back at Ruben one last time, a silent question in his eyes.
Ruben nodded.
Lea Lantern walked a half-step behind the others, her hands deep in the pockets of her coat to hide the tremor in her fingers. The damp air clung to her skin, but it was the icy presence of Elise Vogel that made her shiver.
Elise walked with the rigid, metronomic cadence of a woman who believed the world could be beaten into order. Her platinum ponytail was a lash of silver against her dark uniform, and her cape, heavy with the moisture of the mist, did not sway so much as drag behind her like a verdict.
She did not look at Lea, but Lea could feel the Gold Paladin's suspicion radiating off her like heat from a coils, a silent, green-eyed appraisal that had been constant since the lockdown began.
To Elise's right walked Rosette St. Jon.
If the city was a canvas of washed-out charcoal, Rosette was a violent slash of fresh paint. Her hair was a cascading inferno, a vivid, burning red that defied the gloom, framing a face of terrifying symmetry. She did not walk, she arrived with every step. Her black silk coat was tailored to a lethal fit, the high collar framing a jawline that suggested she could chew glass and smile about it.
But it was her eyes that drew the breath from the lungs, deep, unblinking crimson. They were the colour of an artery opened in the snow. She scanned the perimeter not with anxiety, but with the quiet, predatory hunger of a creature that knew it was the most dangerous thing in the fog.
"The Higher ups are losing patience," Elise said, her voice cutting through the mist, devoid of inflection. "The containment protocols are holding, but the political fallout of the gas attacks is spreading faster than the toxin itself. They want the city sterilized of threats. No more half-measures."
She stopped at a street corner, the gaslight above flickering weakly. Elise turned her absinthe-green gaze toward Rosette.
"We are escalating," Elise stated. "I have authorized the deployment of additional assets."
Rosette tilted her head, the movement sharp and avian. "Assets?" she asked, her voice a smooth, dark alto. "I was under the impression that we were sufficient."
"Competence is not the issue, St. Jon. Coverage is," Elise replied coldly. "We have another graduate from your year group inbound. He has been cleared for immediate field operations."
Elise paused for effect. "Elijah Neri."
Rosette's expression didn't change, but the air around her seemed to tighten, a subtle shift in pressure.
"Elijah," Rosette mused, tasting the name. "The Shadow guy. He's a snake."
"He is effective," Elise countered.
"Oh, I didn't say he wasn't," Rosette said, her crimson eyes gleaming. "He's quiet. Shifty. The type who stands in the corner at the party and tries not to speak to anyone, only really acts when he feels he has the upper hand."
"He arrives within the next twenty-four hours," Elise said, turning back to the street. "He will take the eastern sector. You will continue to sweep the residential grid."
Then, Elise turned her head slightly, just enough to catch Lea in her peripheral vision.
"And you, Lantern," Elise said, her voice dropping an octave, heavy with implication. "You will ensure that your... local attachments... do not interfere with your duty. I have noticed your hesitation. Do not let it become a liability."
Lea's throat went dry. "My priority is the safety of the citizens."
"Your priority is the law," Elise corrected sharply. "Do not confuse the two."
Before Lea could respond, a shrill, digital chirping shattered the tension.
It was Lea's phone.
Every muscle in Lea's body seized. In the silence of the lockdown, the ringtone sounded like a siren. She saw Rosette's red eyes flick toward her pocket, interested. Elise merely stopped walking and waited.
Lea pulled the device out, her heart hammering against her ribs so hard she feared they could hear it. The screen flashed a single name: BRUNO.
She pressed the button and held it to her ear. "Sir?"
Bruno's voice came through the line, heavy with static and the unmistakable gruffness of chain-smoking.
"Lantern," Bruno rumbled. "We just got a ping on the emergency switchboard. An anonymous tip."
Lea stopped breathing. Please, no. Please don't let it be them.
"Someone phoned in a sighting," Bruno continued, his voice all business. "Two males matching the description of the Gresham fugitives. Rayo and Monet. They were seen entering a residence in the outskirts."
The world seemed to tilt on its axis. Lea felt the blood drain from her face. They had been spotted.
"Are... are we sure it's credible, Sir?" Lea stammered, trying to keep her voice steady. "We've had a dozen false alarms today."
"The caller hung up," Bruno said. "But the trace locked the location before the line went dead. It's a landline. A private residence. 14 Blackwood Estate. It's a few blocks from your current position."
Bruno paused, and the weight of his command came through the phone like a physical blow.
"You are the closest unit. Take Vogel and St. Jon. Scout the location. If it's them, lock it down. I'm sending the coordinates now."
The line clicked dead.
Lea lowered the phone slowly, her hand trembling. She looked up.
Elise was staring at her, eyes narrowed, reading the fear on Lea's face like a open book. Rosette was watching too, her head cocked, sensing the sudden spike in adrenaline.
"Well?" Elise demanded softly. "Report."
Lea swallowed the lump in her throat. She had no choice. If she lied, Bruno would know. If she stalled, they would be suspicious. She had to lead the wolves to the door.
"That was Command," Lea whispered, her voice sounding hollow to her own ears. "We have a location. A positive ID on Rayo and Monet."
Rosette perked up at that. "Finally."
"Where?" Elise asked.
Lea pointed a shaking finger into the fog, toward the looming silhouettes of the old Victorian estates.
"Blackwood," Lea said, her heart breaking. "They're just down the road."