The corridor was narrower than the hangars outside, its ceiling low and lined with pale strip-lights that hummed softly. Offices ran along one side, each with reinforced doors and narrow glass panels. Callen slowed as they reached one of them.

  “This is it,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. He glanced at Rhys, then at Amélia. “Uh Rhys, you’ll have to wait out here.”

  Rhys stopped short. “What? No. I’m coming with her.”

  Callen raised both hands quickly. “Orders. Just… procedure.”

  Rhys turned to Amélia, his jaw tight. “I’m not letting them ”

  “It’s fine,” Amélia said gently, placing a hand on his arm. Her voice was calm, but her fingers trembled just a little. “I’ll be right there. You should wait.”

  Rhys searched her face, clearly unhappy, then exhaled through his nose. “I’ll be right outside.”

  “I know,” she said, giving him a small smile before following Callen.

  Rhys sat down hard on the bench opposite the office door, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor as if daring it to give him answers.

  Inside the office, Kael was mid-argument.

  “You’re sitting on my chair like it owes you money,” Kael said flatly.

  Guren, sprawled far too comfortably across the two chairs in front of the desk, had one leg propped up on the other chair and his arms folded behind his head. “Relax. I’m improving the atmosphere.”

  “You’re ruining it.”

  “Same thing.”

  Kael pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re a captain. Act like one.”

  Guren grinned. “You’re just mad because I outrank you and still don’t take you seriously.”

  Kael leaned back in his own chair, eyes narrowing. “At least I have the time to maintain a social life.”

  Guren froze.

  Slowly, he sat upright. “That was uncalled for.”

  “Oh?” Kael said innocently. “Still single, aren’t you?”

  Guren’s grin collapsed. “You didn’t have to go for the throat.”

  “I absolutely did.”

  Guren looked genuinely wounded. “I’m busy. War. Responsibility. Trauma.”

  Kael shrugged. “Excuses.”

  Guren sniffed dramatically and stared at the ceiling. “One day, I’ll meet someone who understands me.”

  “That day will not be today,” Kael replied.

  There was a knock at the door.

  Kael straightened immediately. “Come in.”

  Callen opened it, stepping aside to let Amélia in. “She’s here, sir.”

  Kael’s eyes flicked to her, assessing but not unkind. “Thank you, Callen.”

  Guren rose smoothly to his feet, all joking gone in an instant. He offered Amélia a brief nod. “Thanks for coming. Sorry about the trouble.”

  Callen hesitated at the door. “The other one Rhys is waiting outside.”

  Guren glanced toward the corridor, then back at Amélia. “Good. He’ll be fine out there.”

  Callen closed the door behind them, leaving the room quiet save for the faint hum of the computer.

  Kael gestured to the chair opposite his desk. “Please. Have a seat.”

  Amélia sat down, hands folded in her lap, her heart pounding.

  The office was quiet in the way only military rooms were no unnecessary noise, no wasted space. Kael didn’t sit forward or loom. He stayed relaxed, hands folded on the desk, letting the silence do the work.

  Guren leaned against the wall instead, arms crossed, watching Amélia like he was trying to solve a puzzle he didn’t trust.

  Kael was the first to speak.

  “Before we start,” he said evenly, “I want to be clear. You’re not under arrest.”

  Amélia’s shoulders loosened just a fraction.

  “You were brought here,” Kael continued, “because something about you stood out.”

  Guren exhaled softly through his nose. “That’s one way to put it.”

  Kael tapped a key on the computer. The screen turned slightly toward her. A paused image appeared grainy, dim, taken from the train’s internal cameras. Amélia recognized the moment instantly.

  Herself.

  Mid-stride. Rifle braced into her shoulder. Eyes sharp. Body low, moving like she’d done it a hundred times before.

  Kael let the image sit there.

  “This footage was reviewed by three separate analysts,” he said. “Two combat instructors. One behavioral specialist.”

  Guren added, “All of them asked the same question.”

  Amélia swallowed. “Which is?”

  Kael finally looked up at her. “Where did you learn to move like that?”

  Silence stretched.

  “I didn’t,” Amélia said. “I just… reacted.”

  Guren laughed quietly, but there was no humor in it. “You didn’t panic. You didn’t freeze. You didn’t spray bullets and pray.”

  He pushed off the wall and walked a slow circle behind her chair.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “You advanced. Used cover. Cleared aisles. Reloaded under pressure. You fired only when you had a clear line.”

  He stopped behind her.

  “That’s not instinct,” he said. “That’s training.”

  Amélia clenched her hands together. “I’ve never been in the military.”

  Kael nodded once, as if he’d expected that answer. “Then let’s talk about experience.”

  He clicked again. The footage resumed. Slowed this time.

  “Your heart rate stayed stable,” Kael said calmly. “Your breathing barely changed. Even after your first kill.”

  Amélia’s voice shook. “I didn’t think about it. I just knew if I stopped, people would die.”

  Guren tilted his head. “Most civilians think that too.”

  He stepped back into her view. “They still freeze.”

  Kael leaned forward now, elbows on the desk, not aggressive focused.

  “Amélia,” he said, using her name for the first time, “we’re not questioning your courage.”

  She looked up at him.

  “We’re questioning probability.”

  She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Guren answered instead. “You’re sixteen. You’ve never served. You’ve lived as a refugee. And yet, when faced with multiple hostile Schreitpanzer units inside a confined space, you performed better than some enlisted soldiers.”

  He spread his hands. “That doesn’t just happen.”

  Amélia’s voice hardened. “So what? You think I planned it?”

  Kael shook his head. “No.”

  That answer surprised her.

  “If you were planted,” Kael continued, “you wouldn’t have acted like that. Too exposed. Too emotional. Too reckless.”

  Guren smirked faintly. “You got shot twice. That’s not how professionals operate.”

  Amélia’s jaw tightened. “Then why am I here?”

  Kael’s expression grew serious.

  “Because we don’t know what you are,” he said honestly. “And in this world, not knowing is dangerous.”

  Guren folded his arms again. “Especially when the Empire is still standing.”

  Amélia stiffened. “I’m not from the Empire.”

  Kael watched her carefully. “We didn’t say you were.”

  Another silence.

  Then, more quietly, Amélia said, “I don’t remember much from before Orphelia found me.”

  That made both men still.

  Guren’s eyes narrowed slightly. Kael’s fingers paused over the desk.

  “Say that again,” Kael said.

  “Orphelia,” Amélia repeated. “She found me in a ruined district. Took me with her.”

  Kael leaned back slowly. “Orphelia…?”

  Guren’s voice was low now. “Last name?”

  Amélia hesitated. “I don’t know. She never told me.”

  The room felt different suddenly. Heavier.

  Guren glanced at Kael. Kael didn’t look away from Amélia.

  “And what did Orphelia teach you?” Kael asked.

  Amélia looked down at her hands. “How to survive.”

  A beat.

  “And how to protect someone,” she added quietly.

  Guren exhaled. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

  Kael leaned back slightly. “Just you and her?”

  Amélia shook her head. “No. Her son too.”

  That did it.

  Guren went still.

  It was subtle just a tightening of the jaw, a pause too long but to someone who knew him, it was unmistakable. His gaze drifted away from Amélia, unfocused, as if a name had just surfaced from somewhere deep and buried.

  Her son is alive.

  He turned his head slowly toward Kael, but Kael was still watching Amélia.

  “Tell us about him,” Kael said. “Orphelia’s son.”

  Amélia’s expression softened immediately. “Rhys.”

  The name landed like a weight.

  Guren’s eyes snapped fully to her now.

  “Rhys,” Kael repeated. “And where is he?”

  Amélia pointed vaguely toward the door. “Outside. In the corridor. You told him to wait.”

  The room fell silent.

  Guren stared at her for a second longer, then let out a slow breath through his nose half disbelief, half something dangerously close to relief.

  He looked at Kael.

  “You continue,” Guren said, already pushing himself off the wall. “Don’t stop.”

  Kael met his eyes, understanding immediately. He gave a small nod. “I will.”

  Guren adjusted his jacket, his usual relaxed grin nowhere to be found now.

  “I’m going to have a word with Rhys,” he added.

  Then, without another glance at Amélia, he stepped past Callen and out into the corridor, the door closing softly behind him.

  Amélia was left alone with Kael again, heart pounding, unaware that everything had just changed.

  Rhys sat stiffly on the bench, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. The corridor around him felt too alive for the situation he was in.

  UF soldiers passed back and forth in white uniforms trimmed with black—some carrying tablets, others helmets tucked under their arms. A pair of them argued loudly about whose turn it was to clean a Warden’s leg joint. Someone else laughed too hard at a joke Rhys didn’t hear the end of. It was… normal. Uncomfortably normal.

  He hated that.

  Then a shadow fell over him.

  “Well,” a voice said cheerfully, “you don’t look guilty enough.”

  Rhys looked up—and froze.

  Guren stood right in front of him, hands in his pockets, leaning forward just enough to invade his space. Up close, he looked younger than Rhys expected. Sharp eyes. A crooked, irritating smile.

  Rhys stood immediately. “Are you done interrogating her?”

  Guren blinked. “Straight to business. No ‘hello, sir’? No trembling fear of authority?”

  “Is Amélia done?” Rhys repeated, jaw tight.

  Guren hummed, pretending to think. “Depends. Do you define ‘done’ as ‘still alive and not being thrown into a cell’?”

  Rhys stepped forward. “That’s not funny.”

  Guren grinned wider. “Ah. Sensitive. Got it.”

  Rhys clenched his fists. “If you dragged her in here just to—”

  “Relax.” Guren lifted a hand. “She’s fine. Kael’s just doing his favorite hobby—pretending he’s terrifying.”

  Rhys hesitated. “Then why are you here?”

  Guren tilted his head, studying him openly now. “Because I want to take you for a walk.”

  Rhys frowned. “What?”

  “A walk,” Guren repeated. “You know. Legs moving. Air. Very advanced military technique.”

  “I’m not going anywhere until she’s—”

  Guren leaned in suddenly, lowering his voice. “I’ll buy you donuts.”

  Rhys recoiled. “What—no. I’m not a kid.”

  “Correction,” Guren said smoothly. “You are a kid. A grumpy one.”

  “I don’t want donuts.”

  “Liar.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “So am I,” Guren said, nodding solemnly. “We’ll walk. We’ll eat donuts. Like real men do.”

  Rhys stared at him, utterly baffled. “That makes no sense.”

  Guren clapped a hand on his shoulder, steering him gently but insistently down the corridor. “Come on. Humor me. I need to ask you a few questions anyway.”

  “I didn’t agree to this.”

  “You did the moment you didn’t punch me,” Guren replied.

  Rhys tried to pull away. “This is ridiculous.”

  “Absolutely,” Guren said brightly. “Now move before I start calling them sprinkle donuts.”

  “…You’re impossible,” Rhys muttered.

  Guren smirked. “And yet—you’re walking.”

  Rhys exhaled sharply, then, against his better judgment, fell into step beside him.

  “Fine,” he said. “But I’m not eating donuts.”

  Guren’s grin turned triumphant. “We’ll see.”

  They walked in silence.

  The base gave way to the outskirts of Ironford, the clean metal and floodlights slowly replaced by packed earth and uneven stone. A narrow dirt path ran along the great inclined wall, its surface worn smooth by years of patrols and foot traffic. The wall loomed beside them—too close, too massive—its angled face disappearing into the darkness above.

  Guren didn’t say a word.

  That silence irritated Rhys more than the jokes had.

  After a while, a faint glow appeared ahead. A single lamp, warm and yellow, hanging above a crooked wooden door. The building itself looked like it had been forgotten by time—half stone, half patched metal, squeezed between the wall and a slope of dirt.

  A shop.

  They stepped inside, the bell above the door chiming softly.

  An old woman looked up from behind the counter, her back bent, her hair tied in a loose bun. Shelves behind her were stacked with jars, wrapped breads, and—Rhys noticed—rows of pastries.

  “Oh, you’re late tonight,” she said, smiling the moment she saw Guren. “I was wondering if you’d come.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” Guren replied easily. “You keep me alive, after all.”

  She chuckled as he placed a few bills on the counter. “Loyal customer, this one. Even during alerts.”

  She handed him a small paper bag, still warm.

  “Try not to get killed before tomorrow,” she added dryly.

  “No promises,” Guren said, saluting her with two fingers.

  They stepped back outside, the door closing behind them with another soft chime.

  Only then did Guren stop.

  He opened the bag, the smell hitting Rhys instantly—sweet, rich, unmistakable.

  “Alright,” Guren said. “Important question.”

  Rhys crossed his arms. “This better be worth it.”

  “What flavor?”

  Rhys hesitated, clearly annoyed. “…Chocolate.”

  Guren smiled. “Good choice.”

  He reached into the bag, pulled one out, and held it toward Rhys.

  Rhys stared at it like it might explode. “What is this really about?”

  “Donut,” Guren said simply.

  “I mean this,” Rhys snapped, gesturing between them. “Dragging me out here. The jokes. The silence. You didn’t poison it, did you?”

  Guren burst out laughing, loud and genuine. “Wow. You really don’t trust anyone.”

  Rhys didn’t take the donut. “Should I?”

  Guren’s laughter faded into a softer smile. “You will.”

  He nudged the donut closer. After a moment, Rhys took it—reluctantly.

  “Relax,” Guren said as they started walking again. “If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t waste good chocolate.”

  Rhys took a bite despite himself. It was… annoyingly good.

  “So?” he demanded. “Why are we here?”

  Guren glanced at him from the corner of his eye, still smiling.

  “You’ll know soon,” he said.