Chapter 7: Echoes of the Past

The night was restless. Elián lay on the thin mattress in the corner of the safe house, staring at the cracked ceiling. His thoughts twisted and turned, replaying the day's events like a broken record.

Oleg's sudden return gnawed at him. The bruises, the cuts—they looked real enough. But his story didn't. Elián couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.

He sat up, glancing across the dimly lit room. Sera was asleep in the chair by the door, her cybernetic arm resting loosely in her lap, its faint hum the only sound in the silence. Oleg was sprawled out on the couch, his breathing steady but shallow.

Elián's gaze drifted to the small datapad beside Oleg. It flickered faintly, its screen locked. He hesitated.

I need answers.

Moving carefully, Elián rose to his feet and crept closer. Every step felt louder than it should. His heart pounded in his chest as he reached down and grabbed the datapad.

"Couldn't sleep?"

Elián froze. Oleg's voice was low, almost casual, but there was an edge to it that made Elián's skin crawl.

"I—" Elián stammered, turning to face him. "I was just—"

"Looking for something?" Oleg sat up slowly, his eyes sharp despite the exhaustion etched across his face.

Elián gripped the datapad tighter. "You're hiding something."

Oleg stared at him for a long moment. Then he sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

"You think I betrayed you," Oleg said flatly.

"I don't know what to think," Elián shot back. "You show up out of nowhere after we barely escaped, and you expect me to just trust you?"

"You should."

"Why?"

"Because if I wanted you dead," Oleg said, leaning forward, "you'd be dead already."

The words hung in the air, heavy and cold. Elián didn't flinch, but his grip on the datapad loosened.

"I didn't sell us out," Oleg continued. "But someone did. And if you don't start trusting me, we're all going to end up in body bags."

Sera stirred at the sound of voices. She opened her eyes, blinking against the dim light.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing," Oleg said quickly. "Just clearing the air."

Elián bit back a retort, his stomach churning with frustration. He handed the datapad back, but the unease didn't leave him.

"We need to move," Sera said, her voice cutting through the tension. "It's not safe here anymore."

Oleg nodded. "I know a place. An old club in the lower sectors—'The Iron Veil.' No security, no surveillance."

"And we're just supposed to trust that?" Elián asked.

"You don't have to trust me," Oleg said. "But you don't have a better option."

Sera stood, already gathering supplies. "Let's go."

The journey through the lower city was like navigating a maze of shadows. Neon lights flickered above, reflecting off puddles of rain and oil that pooled in the alleyways. The deeper they went, the more the city seemed to press in around them—narrow streets, broken signs, the hum of drones overhead.

Elián stayed close to Sera, his eyes darting to every shadow. Oleg led the way, his steps confident, but Elián noticed the tension in his shoulders.

They finally reached the club, its exterior worn and rusted. A neon sign buzzed faintly, spelling out "IRON VEIL" in flickering letters.

Inside, the air was thick with smoke and static. Music pulsed faintly in the background, a low beat that vibrated through the floor. A handful of patrons lingered at the bar, their faces obscured by masks and holographic visors.

Oleg approached a man in the corner—a burly figure with augmented arms and glowing tattoos.

"Viktor," Oleg said, his tone low. "We need a favor."

Viktor looked up, his mechanical eyes scanning the group. "I don't do favors."

"You do for me."

The tension was palpable. Elián shifted uncomfortably as Viktor stood, towering over Oleg.

"You've got nerve showing your face here," Viktor growled.

"Yeah," Oleg said. "And I've got credits too."

Viktor hesitated, then gestured to a door at the back of the club. "You can hide there. But this is the last time."

As they filed through the door, Elián felt the weight of Viktor's gaze burning into his back.

Once inside, the noise faded. The room was small, cluttered with broken monitors and tangled wires.

"Stay quiet," Oleg said, closing the door behind them. "We'll figure out our next move in the morning."

But Elián wasn't sure they had that long.