Chapter 8 Static in the Aftermath

They didn't stop running until their legs gave out. The emergency shaft spat them out into an abandoned mag-train terminal, its ceilings dripping with condensation and walls covered in decades of graffiti. A broken clock hung sideways, still ticking for no one. The buzz of old lights hummed above their heads, the only sound besides their ragged breathing. Celia collapsed against a cracked pillar, clutching her side where a stray blast had grazed her jacket. "That... was not the clean getaway you promised," she panted. Lawrence slid down beside her, grimacing. "Technically, we're still alive.

That counts." "By Lower Nine standards, sure." They both laughed-a breathless, hysterical sound, equal parts relief and lingering terror. Celia pulled off her glove and tapped her wrist comm. Static answered. "Marek?" she hissed. "Come on, answer!" More static. Then finally, his voice crackled through, distorted but urgent. Signal's weak. You're ghosting hard. You two alive? "Barely," Celia said. "What's happening topside?" Chaos. Broadcast worked. Your pretty faces are trending across every screen from Upper Helix to the Outer Rings. Lawrence scrubbed a hand through his hair, dislodging a cloud of dust. "That's good, right?" Depends on how you feel about fame, Marek snorted. Everen's damage control teams are scrambling. Riots in the trading sectors. Power plants taken over. People are mad-and for once, they know who to blame. Celia's heart pounded. They'd done it. They'd actually cracked the Everen empire's armor. But reality settled in quickly. "How long before Cassian regains control?" she asked. Marek hesitated. Depends. He's slippery. He's got backup grids, loyalist enforcers. Might buy himself weeks. Maybe more if he spins the story fast enough. Celia exchanged a look with Lawrence. Weeks wasn't good enough. Cassian could regroup, retaliate. He could still silence the people if they didn't hit him harder-soon. "We need to finish it," Lawrence said aloud. Celia nodded grimly. "Yeah. We started the fire. Now we have to burn it all down." They rested briefly, patching each other's scrapes with what little med supplies they carried. Celia had to stop herself from staring at Lawrence too long when he wasn't looking-at the new scars on his knuckles, the grim determination in his jaw. He wasn't the same man who had stumbled into her life, desperate and afraid. He was something sharper now. Angrier. More dangerous. And it scared her more than all the guards and guns put together. "You're thinking too loud," he said without opening his eyes. She snorted. "You're paranoid." "Maybe." He cracked one eye open and smirked. "But you've got that look." "What look?" "The one that says you're wondering if you should've ditched me back at the scrapyard." Celia pretended to think. "Well, you did bring a death squad down on my head. And you smell terrible." He chuckled. "Fair." A comfortable silence stretched between them. Finally, Celia spoke, softer now. "You're changing." He didn't deny it. "I have to." "You don't have to be him, Lawrence." His eyes darkened. "If being like him means finishing this war, maybe I should." "No." She reached out before she could stop herself, her fingers brushing his wrist. "Cassian built his empire by crushing anyone weaker than him. You're not like that. You still care. That's what scares him." For a moment, Lawrence didn't move. Then he covered her hand with his own, warm and trembling slightly. "You keep saving me, Celia." "You keep making it harder not to." The raw honesty between them buzzed louder than the broken lights. But Marek's voice shattered it, urgent again. Heads up. Everen security just flagged an open bounty. Citywide alert. Capture or kill-preferably kill. Celia cursed. "Where's safe?" Nowhere. Marek's voice grew grim. You've officially become public enemy number one. Lawrence pushed himself up, offering her his hand. Celia hesitated for half a second before taking it. No turning back now. They weren't just fugitives. They were symbols. And in a world run by tyrants, symbols could be even more dangerous than guns.