The rain hadn’t stopped in days, turning the ruined city into a cold maze of dripping shadows. Pidge’s breath came in ragged bursts as she ducked behind a collapsed storefront, clutching her blaster. The sound of groaning echoed through the fog — too close. She didn’t look down at the bite on her arm, hidden beneath her jacket sleeve, because looking at it would make it real.

Keith’s voice crackled faintly in her earpiece. “Pidge, respond! We’re almost there!” She wanted to answer, to tell him to hurry, but her throat felt tight. Her fingers trembled on the trigger, the fever already creeping in. Each heartbeat felt like it was echoing in her skull.

A silhouette stumbled toward her — not one of them, not yet. Keith’s red jacket flashed through the mist, Lance right behind him. Relief flooded her, but it was followed by guilt so sharp it almost hurt more than the bite.

When Keith knelt beside her, his eyes searching her face, she finally spoke. “Don’t… take off my jacket,” she whispered. “Just—just get the others to safety. You know what’s coming.”

The moment his hand froze halfway to her sleeve, she knew he understood. Lance’s voice cracked, “No, no, we can fix this—” but she was already stepping back, raising her blaster.

“Don’t follow me,” she said, forcing a smirk that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’ll buy you some time.” And before they could stop her, she turned into the mist, toward the sound of the horde.