The train lurched.
Then it accelerated.
"...That's not normal," Aria muttered, peering down the aisle.
Adam didn't answer. His gaze tracked the flicker of overhead lights, the rhythm of the wheels, the pattern of footsteps behind them.
Three pursuers. One ahead. Cameras looping every twelve seconds.
"Company," he said.
As if on cue—boots thundered from the rear carriage.
Aria grinned. "Finally. Thought they forgot about us."
"Unlikely." Adam grabbed her wrist and pulled her sideways just as a baton cracked through the space where her head had been.
"HEY—" she started, then saw the guard recover and swing again.
Aria slipped under it like smoke and tapped the man's knee. He dropped with a grunt.
"Okay, now it's fun."
"Not yet," Adam said, already moving. "Follow my lead."
They ran.
The corridor stretched long and narrow, doors slamming open and shut as the train rattled. A red light blinked near the ceiling.
Aria glanced up. "Cameras?"
"Looping," Adam replied. "For now."
"For now?" she echoed, vaulting over a fallen crate.
"Eight seconds."
"Great."
A shout from ahead. Another team closing in.
Aria slowed just a fraction. "We're boxed."
Adam's eyes sharpened.
"No," he said. "We're guided."
He veered left into a maintenance passage barely wide enough for one person.
Aria followed, laughing under her breath. "This wasn't in your 'big brain' speech."
"It was," Adam replied. "You just weren't listening."
The passage dropped sharply—metal steps, slick with oil. Aria slid down, landing light. Adam followed, precise, controlled.
Behind them—footsteps multiplied.
"Yeah, they're definitely listening," Aria said.
Adam reached the bottom and paused.
Aria blinked. "You stopping? Now?"
He looked at the junction ahead. Three paths.
Then he stepped aside.
"You take it."
Aria stared. "You don't even know which way I'll go."
"I don't need to."
A beat.
Something in his tone—steady, certain—clicked into place.
Aria's grin faded.
Not into fear.
Into focus.
"...Fine," she said softly.
She chose the darkest path.
Of course she did.
They burst out into another carriage—empty, lights dim, windows black with rushing night.
Aria moved first.
Fast. Clean. Silent.
A guard stepped in—she disarmed him before he could shout. Another came from behind—she pivoted, precise, no wasted motion.
Adam watched.
Not interfering.
Not correcting.
Just… trusting.
From the speaker above, the commander's voice crackled:
"Intercept them! Cut off carriage seven! Move!"
Aria rolled her eyes mid-motion. "All you do is sit on a chair and give orders."
Adam's lips curved faintly.
"Keep moving."
She did.
Three more guards. Two fell before they understood what happened. The last one hesitated.
That was enough.
Aria stopped in front of him.
For a second, everything went still.
"Wrong train," she said.
He dropped the weapon.
Smart choice.
Adam stepped beside her.
"Carriage seven," he murmured. "That's where they want us."
Aria tilted her head. "So we go… eight?"
Adam shook his head.
"We go seven."
She blinked—then laughed.
"Yeah… that's insane."
"Predictable insanity," he corrected.
Behind them, the chase surged again—shouts, footsteps, chaos tightening like a net.
Ahead, carriage seven waited.
Lights off.
Doors half-open.
Something… wrong.
Aria cracked her knuckles. "This better be worth it."
Adam stepped forward.
"It is."
The door slid open with a hiss.
Darkness swallowed them whole.
And for the first time since the chase began—
Even Adam couldn't see everything.