Carlos called just as Eli reached his car.The hospital parking lot was quiet in that late-night December way—cold air thinning the sounds, breath fogging faintly when he exhaled. The city felt paused, suspended between urgency and sleep. Eli unlocked the door but didn’t get in. He leaned against the frame instead, coat pulled tighter, phone pressed to his ear as he watched frost creep along the edge of a windshield nearby.“She’s getting antsy,” Carlos said without preamble.Eli closed his eyes, the chill seeping through the thin leather of his gloves. “Of course she is.”“I’ve stalled as much as I can,” Carlos continued. “But Clara doesn’t like delays she didn’t design herself. If you don’t meet her soon, she’ll start rewriting the narrative.”Eli exhaled slowly, breath visible this time. The warmth he’d carried out of the hospital—the fragile, grounding sense of being tethered—shifted, tightened. Not gone. Just… contained.“Set it up,” he said. “Tomorrow morning.”Carlos hummed. “S

Eli didn’t move for three seconds after he folded the note.Three seconds of calibration. Three seconds of trying to be certain his eyes weren't playing tricks on him.Then he turned, stepped out of the cell, and the illusion of control ended.His thumb pressed the recessed panel by the door, hard enough that the skin blanched. The sound that followed wasn’t loud—not at first. A low, subsonic hum rolled through the corridor, more felt than heard, like the facility exhaling after holding its breath for too long.Then the lights changed.White to amber. Amber to red.The prison woke up.“Facility-wide security breach,” Eli said clearly, voice carrying without effort. “Initiate full lockdown. All wings. All levels. Override passive protocols.”The system responded instantly, synthetic and calm.“Lockdown initiated. Security check rotation escalating. Please state authorization.”“Aurelius Prime,” Eli said. “Override Alpha-Seven. This is not a drill.”A pause—fractional, but there.Then: