SORRY I'M NOT SORRY

The air in the hideout was tense, thick with the weight of their failure. The usual hum of activity was absent. No one spoke immediately, the images of their escape still replaying in their minds.

Razor stood at the center, his posture rigid, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. He was breathing hard, his mind replaying every misstep, every failure. He should have anticipated this.

He should have seen the trap before it was too late. "We're not leaving her to them. We get her back."

"How?" Blaze snapped, throwing his bloodied gloves onto the table. "Did you see them? We barely even made it out alive! We attack back at them, and we're fucking done!"

"So what? We just pretend she wasn't one of us?" Echo's voice was sharp, his usual charm absent. His eyes darted between them, desperate for an answer. "Like she didn't matter?"

Shade exhaled, leaning against the wall, his eyes unreadable. "She was always a liability. We knew this from the start. And now we're paying the price."

Echo rounded on him, fury flickering in his expression. "You're fucking serious? You're just gonna give her off?"

"I'm being realistic." Shade's voice was calm, distant. "The Ascended wanted her. And they got her. Rushing in without a plan is suicide."

"We don't just leave our own!" Cipher's voice cut through, uncharacteristically heated.

He had been at his terminal since they returned, running scans, searching for anything, but every attempt hit a dead end. "You think I'm sitting here for fun? I'm trying to find something, anything, before they wipe her off the damn map."

Blaze scoffed, rubbing a hand down his face. "Look, I get it. But we need to start thinking smart. Myst knew the risks."

"Right." Shade's gaze flicked over to him. "She wasn't one of us to begin with. Maybe this is just how things were supposed to go."

The room fell into a suffocating silence.

Razor turned sharply, slamming his fist against the wall, creating a dent. "Shut the hell up."

Blaze stiffened but said nothing.

Flux, who had been silent until now, leaned forward from where he sat, his voice dangerously calm. "Anyone who wants to pretend like nothing happened, go ahead. Keep telling yourselves we can just move on. But if you think for a second I'm letting them keep her—"

His gaze darkened, something simmering beneath his words. "You're dead wrong."

Flux stood up and left the hideout.

Myst's world swam back into focus, her senses slow to return. A dull ache throbbed through her skull, and every limb felt weighed down, heavy with exhaustion.

The room was dim, sterile. She recognized the faint hum of machinery, the distant sound of someone pacing.

Then she saw him. Nyx.

He stood a few feet away, his back half-turned toward her. Even in the low light, she could see the tension in his posture, the way his hands curled into fists before slowly relaxing. He hadn't noticed she was awake yet.

Myst swallowed, forcing herself upright despite the ache screaming through her body. The movement drew his attention.

Their eyes met.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Nyx exhaled, his face an unreadable mask. "You're awake."

Myst let out a slow breath, the weight of reality crashing onto her. "Where are we?"

"Safe enough for now." His voice was detached, careful. But something flickered behind his eyes—something he tried to suppress.

Myst watched him, her mind scrambling for answers. Safe? "Why did you do this?" Her voice was quieter than she wanted, but steady.

Nyx's jaw tightened. He turned away, running a hand through his hair. "I did what I had to."

She studied him, searching for the cracks in his cold demeanor. "Did you? Or are you just trying to convince yourself?"

His shoulders tensed, but he didn't answer right away. Instead, he turned his back to her again, his voice lowers this time. "You think this is easy?"

Myst didn't reply.

Nyx let out a slow breath, shaking his head. "Just... don't fight this. It's already done."

Myst clenched her fists. "It's not done. It won't ever be."

Nyx hesitated for the briefest second. Then, without another word, he walked toward the door, leaving her in the cold, sterile silence.

She watched him go, her mind racing. She wasn't sure what was more unsettling. The fact that he had betrayed them, or the fact that a part of him showing he clearly wished he hadn't.