He woke to the quiet hum of machinery. For a moment, disorientation gripped him until the previous night's reality flooded back—her revelation, their fragile sanctuary, the looming countdown.
She was at a console, fingers flying across the keys, eyes narrowed in fierce concentration. Screens projected distorted blueprints, schematics filled with cryptic symbols. She barely registered his awakening.
"What are you doing?" he asked quietly, pushing himself upright, ignoring the ache in his bones.
"Tracing," she murmured, eyes fixed on data streams scrolling rapidly. "If we find its source, we can shut it down."
His gut twisted. "And if we fail?"
She paused, eyes meeting his, unflinching. "Then it consumes you completely."
The silence that followed was thick with dread.
"Show me," he said, stepping beside her, eyes scanning the cryptic displays.
She hesitated, then nodded, fingers tapping rapidly. A map unfolded on the screen, paths converging toward a pulsating core buried beneath layers of digital security. His pulse quickened, recognition stirring in fragments he couldn't quite grasp.
"Do you feel it?" she asked softly.
"Yes," he admitted reluctantly. "Like an echo. Like something forgotten."
"It's the Protocol," she said grimly. "It's still linked to you. Even now."
A sudden surge flickered across the screens. Alarms sounded sharply, lights flashing red.
She cursed under her breath. "It found us. Again."
Footsteps echoed outside, metallic and measured.
He turned toward the door, pulse racing. "They won't stop, will they?"
Her voice was steady, determined. "No. Not until it gets you back."
The door buckled inward violently, hinges screaming in protest.
He clenched his fists, feeling the stir of power inside him. Dangerous, unpredictable, intoxicating.
She stepped beside him, drawing her blade, eyes fierce with resolve. "Are you ready?"
He felt a strange clarity, nodding once.
"Then we fight."
The door exploded inward.