Cold.
That was the first thing he felt.
Not the sharp, biting cold of winter air—but something sudden. It poured over him without warning, stealing what little warmth his body had left.
Water.
Ty's eyes snapped open as ice-cold liquid drenched him, soaking through his clothes, clinging to his skin like it wanted to freeze him in place. His body jerked instinctively, a sharp breath tearing from his lungs as sensation came flooding back all at once.
Pain.
His side burned where the bullet had grazed him. His shoulders ached, twisted back unnaturally. His wrists—
Tied.
Tight.
Rough material bit into his skin, his arms pulled behind him, forcing his chest forward. His ankles were bound too, restricting any real movement.
Before he could fully process it—
He was yanked forward.
The ground scraped harshly against his knees as he was dragged, the friction tearing at fabric and skin alike. His body lagged behind the force pulling him, muscles still sluggish from whatever they had injected into him.
Ty sucked in a breath, vision still blurred as he tried to focus.
Shapes.
Light.
White.
Too bright.
His eyes narrowed instinctively, adjusting as the world slowly came into view.
Hallways. Long. Clean.
White walls stretched endlessly, harsh overhead lighting flickering slightly, casting everything in a sterile glow.
But it wasn't untouched. Spray paint marked the walls—colorful streaks, symbols, words layered over one another. Some faded, some fresh. Attempts to make the place feel… alive.
To make it feel human.
Footsteps echoed. Not just the two dragging him—others. Voices in the distance. Movement. People.
A lot of them.
Underground…
The thought flickered through his mind.
So it was real. The city.
Ty's head tilted slightly as he tried to look around, but one of the men hauling him tightened his grip, dragging him faster.
His knees hit a ridge in the floor—pain shot up his legs.
He didn't react. Didn't give them that.
They turned sharply, boots echoing louder now as the hallway opened into something wider.
A room.
Big.
Open.
And then—
They stopped.
For half a second, everything went still.
Before—
He was thrown forward.
Ty hit the ground with a dull thud, the impact forcing the air from his lungs as his shoulder took most of it. His body rolled slightly before he caught himself, teeth clenching as pain pulsed through his side.
He stayed down for a moment. Breathing.
Grounding himself.
Then slowly—he pushed himself up. His wrists still bound behind him, he shifted awkwardly until he was sitting upright on his knees, back straight despite the strain. His head lifted—
And that's when he saw him.
Everything stopped.
Ty's breath caught.
For a moment—just a moment—his lungs refused to work.
"…Noah…"
The name didn't make it out. Because the person standing in front of him Wasn't the Noah he remembered. Not the quiet boy who just stood behind him, soft-spoken and gentle, with hesitant smiles and careful movements.
This—
This was something else entirely.
He was tall.
Too tall. At least 6'3, his frame built in a way that wasn't bulky, but strong—lean muscle shaped through years of combat.
He wore military-grade gear—dark, fitted and reinforced.
Scars marked his skin—visible even where the gear didn't cover him. Thin lines, deep cuts, old wounds layered over newer ones.
Proof of survival
Proof of violence.
But that wasn't what made Ty's chest tighten.
It was the black.
Veins.
Dark, unnatural lines traced along Noah's arm, creeping beneath his skin like something alive. They spread upward, disappearing beneath the sleeve before reappearing along his neck.
They stopped just at his jawline—barely.
A few thin strands stretched higher, ghosting across his cheek before fading into nothing.
Like the infection had tried—and stopped.
Ty stared. He couldn't look away.
Noah noticed and tilted his head slightly, a faint crease forming between his brows as he studied Ty in return.
Then—
He stood.
Moved forward.
Each step slow.
Ty's body tensed almost naturally, but he didn't move. Couldn't.
Noah stopped in front of him.
Then crouched.
Lowering himself until they were almost eye level.
Close enough for Ty to see everything. The sharpness of his features now—no longer soft. His eyes darker, colder… but not empty.
Noah's gaze moved across Ty's face slowly, like he was searching for something. Something just out of reach.
"…You look familiar." His voice was deeper than Ty remembered.
Calm.
Even.
But there was something underneath it—something unnatural, like the words didn't come as flowy as they should have.
Ty's chest tightened. His lips parted slightly.
"…Noah?"
The name came out quiet. Uncertain.
Noah stilled slightly. The smallest reaction—but it was there.
Behind Ty, one of the men spoke.
"Noah?—What are you talking about?"
A pause.
"That's not—"
"This is our leader. Nade."
Silence fell over the room. Noah didn't look away from Ty. Not once.
Then—
"Leave."
The two men hesitated for half a second before responding.
"…Yes, sir."
Footsteps retreated and the door shut.
And suddenly—it was just the two of them.
Noah straightened slowly, rising back to his full height before taking a step back. His gaze didn't waver.
"…No one has called me that in a long time."
Ty's heart pounded. He leaned forward slightly despite the restraints, eyes searching Noah's face desperately.
"It's me." His voice cracked. "It's Ty. Don't you—don't you remember me?"
For a second—something flickered.
Noah's expression shifted, just barely. His brow furrowed, eyes narrowing as if trying to force something into focus.
His hand lifted, pressing lightly against his temple. A faint tension ran through him.
Like something hurt.
"…Ty…" The name came out slower. Unfamiliar. Like he was testing it.
Trying to see if it meant anything.
His eyes flickered again. Something there.
A fragment.
But it slipped.
Noah exhaled quietly, lowering his hand.
"…No." Flat. "I don't recall you."
The words landed harder than anything else.
Ty's chest tightened painfully, breath catching again—but this time it didn't come back right.
"No—no, you—" Noah stepped forward again, closing the distance. Before Ty could say anything else—
A hand lifted.
His hand. Black veins curling faintly beneath the skin. Cold fingers pressed gently against Ty's forehead.
Ty froze. The touch wasn't rough, but it wasn't soft either.
Noah's eyes narrowed slightly, studying him with an intensity that felt almost invasive.
"…Strange." His voice dropped quieter.
"Why do you feel…"
A pause. His fingers pressed just slightly firmer.
"…so familiar?"
Ty didn't breathe.
And neither did Noah.