The silence after the collapse didn't feel like relief.
It felt like space.
Too much of it.
Sarai sat back in the driver's seat, her shoulders still tight, her body not fully convinced the danger had passed. The laptop rested open against the wheel, casting a faint glow across her face as her fingers hovered uselessly over dead systems.
"…okay," she muttered under her breath. "That was not in the plan. Like… not even a little."
"No," Virek said.
His voice came through the comm, steady, grounded in a way that almost annoyed her because she knew he had just come out of the same chaos she was still trying to process.
Sarai let out a breath, rubbing her palm briefly against her thigh.
"You good?" she asked. "And don't give me that one-word answer. Actually answer me."
"I'm functional."
"That's not what I asked."
"It's the answer."
She rolled her eyes, even as tension still sat heavy in her chest.
"You got thrown through a collapsing building," she said. "I need a little more detail than 'functional.' Are you bleeding? Are you limping? Are you about to pass out mid-sentence?"
A pause.
"…minor injuries," he said.
"Define minor," she pressed immediately. "Because your version of minor is very different from normal people's version of minor."
"Nothing that affects movement."
She exhaled sharply. "That is not reassuring, Virek."
"It's not meant to be."
"See, that right there," she said, pointing at nothing, "that's exactly what I'm talking about. You say things like that and expect me to just be okay with it."
"You're still okay."
"I'm managing," she corrected.
She leaned forward again, scanning the open space through the windshield. The dust was still settling, drifting slowly like the building hadn't fully decided to stop collapsing yet.
"…okay," she said, more alert now. "We need to move. Like now. Before—"
The passenger door opened.
Sarai froze.
Her brain didn't register fear first.
It registered wrong.
That's not him.
Her head snapped toward the movement—
—and her body followed.
Too late.
A hand closed around her wrist.
Firm.
Unmoving.
Controlled.
Her breath hitched before she could stop it, and she immediately twisted, trying to pull free.
"—nope, absolutely not—"
Her free hand came up fast, searching, reacting—
But he was faster.
Of course he was.
Keller.
Up close, he didn't look like he had just walked out of a collapsing building. His clothes were clean. His breathing was steady. His grip didn't tighten, didn't shift, didn't need to.
Sarai forced her expression to settle, even as her pulse spiked.
"…hi," she said, voice tighter but still holding. "You're persistent. Like… aggressively persistent."
Keller's gaze moved over her, calm, assessing.
"So are you," he replied.
She pulled against his grip again, testing, measuring.
Nothing.
"Let go," she said.
"No."
"Okay," she nodded once. "Just wanted to make sure we were clear on where we stand."
"Sarai," Virek's voice came through.
She didn't answer.
Not yet.
Her mind had already shifted gears.
Fast.
If Keller was here, that meant—
This wasn't reaction.
This wasn't luck.
This was planned.
He knew where she would be.
He knew when.
The realization settled in sharp and cold, but instead of freezing her, it focused her.
"You adapted quickly," Keller said. "Faster than expected."
Sarai tilted her head slightly, forcing her breathing to steady.
"…I try. I mean, I prefer not to be in situations where I have to prove that, but here we are."
"You disrupted the system," he continued. "That was you."
"Maybe," she said, her tone casual even as her eyes tracked everything—his stance, his balance, the angle of his shoulders.
"You're not trained," he said.
"No," she agreed easily. "I'm just observant. And apparently very hard to kill."
"That remains to be seen."
"…that is not the kind of feedback I enjoy receiving," she muttered.
"What do you want?" she asked, more directly now.
Keller didn't hesitate.
"You," he said.
Sarai blinked once, her expression flattening just slightly.
"…wow," she said slowly. "That is deeply unsettling. Like, not even in a dramatic way. Just… genuinely uncomfortable."
"You changed his behavior," Keller continued. "That makes you relevant."
She let out a breath, almost laughing.
"Okay, first of all, I don't like being described like a variable in an equation," she said. "Second, that sounds like your problem, not mine."
"It became yours the moment you stayed."
Sarai's grip tightened slightly around the keys in her hand.
"…I didn't plan on any of this," she said. "Just to be clear."
"Intent doesn't matter," Keller replied.
"Yeah, I'm noticing that," she said.
"Sarai," Virek's voice came again, sharper now. "Answer me."
Keller's gaze flicked slightly.
"…he's close," Keller said.
Sarai's pulse kicked harder.
Good.
That meant she didn't have long.
"Are you going to kill me?" she asked.
"No."
"That's comforting."
"Eventually."
She blinked.
"…okay, that feels like something you could've led with. I would've appreciated that level of honesty upfront."
Keller adjusted his grip.
Small shift.
Barely noticeable.
But she felt it.
That was the opening.
She moved.
Forward.
Closing the space instead of pulling away.
Her hand came up fast—
Keys clenched tight—
She drove them forward.
Hard.
The impact traveled up her arm, jarring, real, not clean like in her head. She felt resistance, felt the give, felt the disruption more than she saw it.
Keller reacted immediately.
But not fast enough.
His grip slipped.
Just enough.
Sarai twisted hard, ripping free as she shoved him back with everything she had.
"—nope, we're done here—"
She dove across the seat, her knee slamming into the console as she yanked the door shut and locked it.
"Virek!" she snapped.
"I'm here—"
"He's HERE. Like right here, not metaphorically, not close—HERE."
The engine roared.
Her foot slammed down.
The car jerked forward.
Keller grabbed the edge of the door.
"OH my God—no—no—"
Sarai yanked the wheel hard, her arms straining as the car cut sharply across uneven ground.
"Get OFF—"
The sudden movement broke his leverage.
His grip slipped.
Then gone.
She didn't look back.
Her chest was rising too fast, her hands shaking just enough that she had to consciously tighten her grip on the wheel.
"…I stabbed him," she said, breath uneven.
"Yes."
"…I actually stabbed him," she repeated. "Like that wasn't… that wasn't a thought-out decision."
"I heard."
"I didn't even aim properly," she added. "I just—went for it."
"You adapted."
She let out a shaky laugh.
"…that is insane."
Her breathing started to slow.
Not fully.
But enough.
"…he said I changed your behavior," she said more quietly now.
A pause.
Then—
"He's not wrong."
Sarai swallowed.
Something about that sat heavier than she expected.
"…okay," she said softly. "Well… that's new information I didn't ask for but will now be thinking about."
She adjusted her grip on the wheel, shoulders finally starting to lower.
"…next time," she said, steadier now, "we don't let him get that close. Like, at all. Ever again."
Virek's voice dropped, quieter—but firm.
"…next time, he won't."