Time passed in a blur of pain and exhaustion. Days? Hours? Alexa couldn't tell. Locked away in a cold, dimly lit cell, her body throbbed with bruises, her mind warring between despair and determination.
She wasn't sure how long Alexandra had been unconscious, but her breathing was shallow, her body frail. Alexa had done her best to support her, whispering encouragement whenever she stirred.
Amira, chained across from them, had stopped speaking. But her eyes burned with silent fury.
Then—footsteps.
The heavy steel door groaned open, and a new figure stepped in.
Not the Instructor.
A guard.
One Alexa hadn't seen before.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, his uniform crisp. But it wasn't his stature that caught Alexa's attention—it was the way he moved. Calculated. Measured. Not like the others.
His eyes met hers for a fraction of a second.
And then—
A flick of his fingers.
Tiny. Almost imperceptible.
But Alexa saw it.
A signal.
A message.
Wait. Be ready.
Her breath hitched.
Amira saw it too.
The guard stepped closer, pretending to check their restraints. His grip on Alexa's wrist was firm—but not cruel. And then, beneath his breath, so softly it was almost swallowed by the room—
"Hold on. Not much longer."
A shiver ran down Alexa's spine.
It was true.
They were here.
Undercover cops.
But how long could they wait? How long before the Instructor caught on?
Alexa swallowed hard, forcing herself to stay calm. They had no choice. No escape.
For now.
She met Amira's gaze.
No words were spoken.
But they both understood.
This wasn't over.
Not yet.