The halls of Valeria Cain's fortress were cold, a labyrinth of steel and silence.
Emily walked with measured steps, her pulse steady, her mind calculating.
Every corridor, every guard's patrol pattern—she memorized it all.
Valeria had given her a new uniform—sleek, black, unmarked.
A symbol of her supposed new allegiance. But Emily knew better.
This wasn't assimilation.
This was infiltration.
Jared walked beside her, his wound still slowing him down, but his eyes sharp with the same quiet resolve.
They had a plan.
And it started with survival.
Emily was escorted into Valeria's war room, where digital maps sprawled across the walls, displaying troop movements, surveillance feeds, and encrypted messages.
Valeria stood at the center, her presence commanding yet eerily calm.
"You've made a wise choice, Emily."
Emily crossed her arms. "Let's not pretend this is mutual trust, you need me."