A Fragile Sanctuary

The door slid shut behind us with a dull hiss, sealing out the growls and footsteps that had hounded us through the tunnels. My shoulders sagged with exhaustion as the sounds of the infected faded into the background.

We had stumbled into an old medical wing—quiet, intact, and mercifully untouched by the chaos. The sterile scent of disinfectant lingered faintly in the air, mixing with the metallic tang of old machinery. Beds were lined against the far wall, dusty but usable, and a supply cabinet stood half-open, filled with medical kits and canned food.

Apollo leaned against the wall, catching his breath. Zeke scanned the area with his flashlight, ensuring the doors were locked, though he wore the same wary expression he always did. Lecroix stayed close by, his gaze sweeping the room like a silent guardian.

For the first time in what felt like hours, we were safe—at least for now.

"Let's take five," Apollo muttered, slumping into a nearby chair. "God knows we need it."

Zeke gave a curt nod, still checking the equipment scattered across the room. His silence weighed on me. I knew he was processing what we'd discovered earlier—the files about our mother, her research, and our role in it. But Zeke wasn't one to talk until he had sorted through his anger.

Lecroix moved beside me, his expression calm despite everything. "You okay?" he asked quietly, as if we weren't standing in the heart of a nightmare.

I gave a tired shrug. "I've been better."

He studied me for a moment, then motioned toward my hand. "Let me see."

It was only then I noticed the small scrape across my knuckles, the sting masked by adrenaline. "It's nothing."

"Humor me," he said softly, his green eyes holding mine for a second too long.

I relented, holding out my hand. Lecroix crouched beside me, pulling a medical kit from the supply cabinet. His touch was gentle as he cleaned the wound, his fingers brushing against my skin. The quiet intimacy of the moment wasn't lost on me.

"You don't have to carry all of this alone, you know," he said, voice low.

"I'm used to it," I admitted, watching him work.

"You shouldn't have to be."

The way he said it—soft but firm—stirred something inside me. He wasn't just patching up my hand. He was offering me something more, something harder to accept than any treatment.

"I believed in this project once," Lecroix said after a moment, wrapping a bandage neatly around my hand. "I thought it would save lives. Thought we could end the suffering."

He paused, his gaze dropping to the wound he was tending. "I was wrong."

"And now?" I asked quietly.

His gaze lifted to meet mine, steady and unwavering. "Now? Now I believe in something else."

The weight of his words settled between us, a promise wrapped in silence. It wasn't just about stopping the infection. It was about us—whatever this was becoming between us.

Zeke cleared his throat from across the room, his expression unreadable. "The doors are secure, but we can't stay long."

Lecroix straightened, giving me one last, reassuring look before stepping back. I found myself missing his closeness more than I cared to admit.

Apollo rummaged through the supplies, pulling out a few dusty cans. "This'll have to do," he muttered, tossing one toward Zeke. "Dinner of champions."

We ate in relative silence, the weight of the day pressing down on all of us. Zeke sat apart from the group, scrolling through his tablet as if searching for something—anything—that would make sense of all this.

Lecroix draped his jacket over my shoulders when I shivered, the fabric still warm from his body. "Better?" he asked, his voice laced with quiet amusement.

I smiled, pulling the jacket tighter around me. "Yeah. Thanks."

The gesture was simple, but it felt more intimate than any grand declaration could have been. Lecroix's presence wasn't loud or overbearing—it was steady, reliable, exactly what I needed.

"You've got good instincts," Lecroix murmured, sitting down beside me.

"I've had practice."

He chuckled softly, and the sound was like a small light in the darkness. "That, you have."

As we sat there, I found myself leaning into him—not just physically but emotionally, too. It felt strange to let my guard down, even for a moment, but with Lecroix, it was easier. He didn't demand anything from me. He just… stayed.

Zeke glanced in our direction, his expression guarded but less hostile than before. He didn't say anything, but I caught the flicker of acceptance in his gaze—a silent acknowledgment that maybe Lecroix wasn't the enemy he'd feared.

After a while, Zeke looked up from his tablet, a frown creasing his brow. "I found something."

He turned the screen toward us, the glow illuminating the words 'Echo Protocol.'

"What is that?" Apollo asked, leaning closer.

Zeke scrolled through the data, his jaw tight. "It's a contingency plan. If Phase Two fails, they trigger the Echo Protocol." His eyes flicked toward me. "And it's tied to you, Lib."

My stomach tightened. "How?"

"They were preparing you for this," Zeke said grimly. "If the infection spiraled out of control, you were supposed to... control it."

The weight of his words settled over me like a lead blanket. I wasn't just caught in the middle of this nightmare—I was at the center of it.

"We'll figure it out," Lecroix said, his voice steady beside me. "We'll find the mainframe, unlock the rest of the files, and end this."

I nodded, though fear gnawed at the edges of my mind. "And if we can't?"

Lecroix's gaze didn't waver. "We will."

Just as the tension began to ease, the lights flickered overhead, and a low hum vibrated through the floor. The walls shuddered, dust falling from the ceiling.

"The facility's systems are failing," Zeke muttered, glancing at his tablet. "We need to move—now."

The sound of distant footsteps echoed through the hallways—not just the infected, but something heavier, more deliberate.

Lecroix stood, offering me his hand. "We've got this," he said softly. "Together."

I took his hand without hesitation, letting his strength steady me. Whatever happened next, we'd face it side by side.

We moved toward the door, ready to step back into the chaos. But as the ground shifted beneath us, I knew one thing for certain: The unknown wasn't just waiting for us—it was coming for us.