Skadi sat slouched on the old couch in the corner, one hand resting on the edge of the holo-projector. Its surface was cool under her fingers, still humming faintly from the last playback.

Outside the thin walls of the hold, silence gathered like frost. Waiting.

Her mother's voice came from the doorway, tight with worry. "What in the world is going on out there?"

Skadi didn't answer. Then she stood. No hesitation. Movements precise. Measured.

"Nothing good," she said quietly.

Her mother stepped forward, a hand brushing her arm. "Shouldn't we stay put? Let Haven handle this?"

Skadi let out a short, dry laugh. "Haven?" She shook her head. "They don't even know what they're looking at, let alone how to stop it."

Her mother's expression darkened. She said nothing.

Skadi turned toward the hallway, jaw set. "I need to check on something."

"You're not going out there again—"

"I just need a few things from the storage unit," Skadi said, cutting her off. "Just in case."

A moment of silence. Then her mother gave a tight nod. "Be quick."

Skadi moved to the door. She tapped the door control. It opened with a soft hiss and cold air swept in, sharp enough to cut. But it wasn't the cold that made her freeze.

Shadows moved in the corridor. Distant but unmistakable.

Figures. Five, maybe six. Spaced deliberately. Steps light, precise.

They didn't look like residents. They didn't move like scavengers, didn't look like opportunist rioters. Too well equipped to be civilian.

Her breath caught. She slapped the control panel, fast and flat. The door hissed shut with a metallic snap. She hit the manual lock. It slid into place with a reassuring click, though it did nothing for the spike of adrenaline burning through her chest.

Her mother's voice came from behind, tighter now. "What is it?"

Skadi didn't turn. "Trouble."

She reached for the pendant at her neck. The metal was cool against her skin. She pulled it free, fingers curling around the familiar shape. A pale blue glow flared to life at its center.

"Haven emergency dispatch," she said.

The pendant chirped. A holo-ring spun to life, a soft whir filling the room as the call linked.

She held her breath.

The ring froze. The projection twitched once. Static rippled through the display. Then a flat error message blinked into existence:

Connection failed. Signal interference detected.

Skadi swore under her breath. She tapped the pendant again, harder this time. "Retry connection."

The interface stuttered back to life, struggling against the static. This time, a different message flickered through:

Signal Inteference. Please contact system administrator.

Her jaw clenched. "What, is that supposed to be a joke?"

The projection dissolved into gray. The crystal's glow faded.

Behind her, her mother's footsteps creaked against the floor. "What's wrong?"

Skadi slipped the pendant back beneath her shirt.

"They've got the grid locked down," she said. "Nothing's getting out."

Her eyes flicked back to the door.

The first bang hit like a hammer. It echoed through the apartment with the force of a gunshot. Skadi flinched despite herself, her grip tightening on the stun baton she'd taken from the Haven guard earlier.

Her mother's voice barely broke a whisper. "What do they want?"

Skadi shook her head once, eyes locked on the door.

"I don't know," she muttered, keeping her voice low. Her ears strained for movement beyond the frame.

A second bang followed. Louder this time. The lock hissed, flashing red. A high-pitched whine began to build behind it, grinding deep into the back of her teeth.

Override signal. The auto-lock mechanisms hissed and twitched, straining against the manual deadbolt she'd thrown earlier.

"They're forcing the system," Skadi said, stepping back to glance toward her mother. Her voice was steadier than she felt. "Manual lock's holding. For now."

Her mother nodded, pale, lips pressed into a line, but she didn't freeze. She moved to the kitchen alcove, slow and deliberate.

Another sound cut through. Higher-pitched, sharper. A cutting torch igniting. A white-orange flare lit the edge of the doorframe as molten steel hissed to the floor in tiny sparks.

"They're cutting through," Skadi muttered. The words were barely more than breath, as if speaking too loud might draw them faster.

She gripped the baton tighter. It felt too light. Too polished. Her fingers curled, uncertain. She forced her breath to slow. Remember what Akiko said.

"Don't swing like you're chopping wood. Fast, precise. Joints. Hands. Anything that makes them hesitate."

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Of course the reckless kitsune had planned for this. Skadi was already starting to see the pattern. Akiko didn't just attract chaos, she prepared for it.

Skadi swallowed. Her stance wasn't perfect. Her hands weren't steady. But the words gave her something to hold onto. A plan. A shape to the fear.

The cutting torch whined louder. Steel curled away from the frame in glowing strips. Nearly through.

Another tremor rolled beneath her feet. Faint, but insistent. A warning. Akiko was far away, tangled in her own firestorm. Too far to help.

"I'll handle it," Skadi said. Her voice held steady this time. "Stay behind me. Don't move until I say."

Her mother hesitated, then nodded once. She tucked herself back against the wall, eyes never leaving the doorway.

Skadi turned back to the door.

The torch cut its final arc. The half-molten metal ring fell with a hollow clang that reverberated through the floor.

A heartbeat later, something sailed through the opening. A small canister. Blinking. Humming.

Skadi's eyes widened. "Down!"

She barely got the word out before the flashbang went off.

The world cracked open. White light and sound colliding all at once. The floor bucked beneath her. Her vision tore sideways. Her ears screamed. But she didn't fall.

The baton stayed in her grip. Its weight steadied her. Her feet staggered but found their hold again.

The door blew inward, boots stomping through the frame. Figures swept in. Fast, black-clad, practiced.

The first one moved toward her, gun rising.

Skadi moved without thinking. She ducked low, boots catching on the uneven floor. But her momentum carried her forward, the baton swinging wide.

It cracked against his forearm with a jolt of electricity. The shock lit the air with a sharp pop. He shouted, recoiled, and fell, the weapon clattering from his grip.

Skadi stared at him for half a second, heart hammering. Her grip tightened.

The next one stepped through, rifle already rising. The shot came as she moved. It missed by inches, scorching the wall behind her.

Skadi dropped low with a ragged breath and swung hard. The baton slammed into his shin, a clumsy arc born of panic more than aim. He shouted, staggered, and went down.

Her ears rang. Her arm throbbed from the impact. But he didn't shoot again.

The others were already closing in. One lunged from the side, heavy boots scraping against the floor. Skadi twisted fast, elbow driving into his chest. He staggered, but didn't fall. Another shape stepped into her periphery. Close.

"Stay back!" Skadi shouted, voice raw.

She swung wide with the baton, its hum flaring. A threat more than a strike. The men didn't hesitate. They moved together, practiced, pressing in.

Skadi braced, breath coming in short, sharp bursts. She struck low, dropping one with a snap of electric charge, but it wasn't enough. Another slipped past her guard. A hand on her arm, another at her shoulder.

"Wait!" her mother cried.

Skadi turned just in time.

One of the men had her mother by the arm, dragging her toward the door.

The sight hit like a gut punch.

"No," she whispered, and then louder, her voice breaking: "Let her go!"

She surged forward, swinging the baton hard, but too late. The man shoved her mother through the door, dragging her into the corridor beyond.

Something slammed into Skadi from the side. She hit the floor hard, the breath knocked from her chest. The baton skittered across the tile, spinning once before coming to a stop out of reach. Its charge dimmed.

The man on top of her shifted, pinning her down. Weight pressed into her chest and shoulders. She kicked. Twisted. One arm free, but no leverage.

"Get off me!"

A new voice cut through the noise. Familiar. "Skadi?"

The man pinning her hesitated. Shifted to glance toward the door.

Skadi craned her neck, blinking through the blur. Fenrik stood in the doorway, coat askew, eyes wide, jaw tight.

He looked from Skadi to the corridor, where their mother struggled in a stranger's grip. His voice rose, disbelief edged with fury.

"What the hell is this?"

One of the attackers turned toward him. "Stay out of this, Fenrik. It doesn't concern you."

Fenrik's laugh was sharp. Bitter. "You think taking my family doesn't concern me?"

The man's grip on his weapon tightened. "Orders are orders. Karn wants her."

Skadi froze. That name hit harder than the fight.

Fenrik's gaze snapped to their mother in the corridor. He saw it. All of it.

His voice dropped into ice. "Let her go."

The room went still.

Skadi twisted again, her free hand slipping toward her coat. Her fingers brushed fabric, then metal.

The panel.

Akiko's voice whispered from memory, clear and too calm: "Squeeze it. That's all you've got to do. My friend will handle the rest."

Her fingers closed around the device.

She squeezed. For a breath, nothing happened. Then, a sharp hiss. A blue-white shield erupted outward, energy crackling through the air. The man atop her flew backward, slamming into the wall with a grunt. The floor beneath her vibrated, shield-light pulsing in a dome around her.

Skadi rolled to her side, stunned by the force.

The shield shimmered. Faint. Already fading.

She didn't wait. Her hand darted for the baton. The charge had returned, humming soft and angry. She turned, and the man who'd been thrown was already up, scrambling.

Skadi lunged and drove the baton into his chest. The electric snap was sharp. He went limp, dropped like a sack of meat.

Another came for her.

She stepped into the swing, drove the baton into his ribs. He crumpled. To her left, Fenrik had grabbed a chair, swung it wide. The blow hit, but he lost his balance, stumbled.

"Watch your back!" Skadi shouted.

He flinched.

One of the men recovered, lunged for Fenrik, but Skadi was already moving. She jabbed the baton into his chest. He convulsed. Dropped.

Another replaced him.

"I'm trying!" Fenrik shouted, bringing the chair up again.

The room blurred. Too many bodies. Not enough ground.

They moved in frantic tandem, not soldiers, not trained, just siblings trying not to die. Skadi's movements were all edge and instinct. Fenrik flailed with desperate force, landing blows by luck and momentum.

"Regroup! We've got the primary target. Fall back!"

The voice snapped like a whip, sharp and command-clear. Skadi's head jerked up. Through the doorway, she saw it. Their mother, dragged backward by two figures disappearing down the corridor.

"No—!"

The word ripped from her throat, raw and louder than anything she'd said all day.

She lunged, baton raised, but one of the men moved fast, stepping into her path. A gloved hand clamped around her wrist, twisting hard. The pain lanced sharp through her shoulder. She stumbled. The baton slipped from her grip and clattered to the floor.

"Skadi!" Fenrik's voice, brittle with panic.

"I'm fine!" she snapped, shoving hard against the man's chest. He staggered. She twisted free and dropped low, reaching for the baton.

But the corridor was already emptying. Boots thundered away down the hall. She scrambled forward, breathing hard. Just in time to see the door at the far end slam shut.

Gone.

She dropped to her knees. The baton rolled beside her. She didn't reach for it.

Her breath came in shallow gasps. The air in the room felt too thin. Her hands trembled.

"They took her," she whispered. Her voice barely rose above the hum of the hallway lights. "They... took her."

Behind her, Fenrik let out a sound, half-growl, half-choked breath. The chair he'd been swinging sailed into the wall and cracked apart, the noise sharp enough to make Skadi flinch.

He paced in a tight loop, fists clenched, face taut with fury.

"This is Karn," he spat. "This is what he does. Thinks he can take whatever he wants. Do whatever he wants. I thought that he could, that I would… I was a fool to trust him."

He turned sharply. "I'll get her back."

Skadi looked up slowly. Her voice was hoarse. "You're going after him?"

"What else am I supposed to do?" he snapped, eyes wild. "Wait around while he turns her into one of his experiments?"

"You can't—" The words broke partway out.

"I can," he said, cutting her off. "And I will."

He pointed toward her, jaw tight. "You stay here. Stay safe. You've done enough. I'll handle it."

Skadi pushed herself upright. Her hands were fists again, clenched tight at her sides. "You think I'm just going to sit here after what they—"

"You're not coming, Skadi." His voice was final. Cold. "This isn't your fight."

She stared at him, breath caught in her throat. Her next words didn't come.

Fenrik didn't wait. He turned and walked out, boots hitting the floor in quick, hard steps. The doorway yawned behind him, still scarred from the breach.

Skadi stood there, alone.

Silence settled like frost.

She dropped back down beside the baton. Its faint hum had faded. Just cool metal now. Still and useless.

Her fingers curled around it slowly.

Safe, he'd said.

Her grip tightened.

There's no such thing anymore.

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