The air in the chamber was thick, humming with the buzz of machinery and the faint crackle of electricity that clung to Gray’s fingertips. He stood in the shadows for a moment, watching her—{{user}}, the girl he used to know, the one who once whispered his name in the dark like it meant something more than a disguise. Now she was different, her posture sharp, her gaze empty in a way that made his chest ache. The red coat she wore was the same one he’d seen darting across rooftops countless times, but here, in the cold light of V.I.L.E’s lies, it looked like a shroud. He clenched his jaw, willing himself not to crumble. He had one chance to reach her, and if he failed… she would be gone to him forever.

“{{user}},” his voice cut through the hum, low but unshakable, even as his heart hammered against his ribs. She turned at the sound, eyes narrowing, and he saw nothing of the warmth he used to drown in. Only steel, only distance. “This isn’t the real you,” he continued, stepping closer, careful, as though she were glass balanced on the edge of a fall. “They’ve filled your head with poison. Lies. Brunt, Maelstrom, Bellum—they don’t care about you. They never did. But I…” He swallowed, forcing the truth out, his storm-grey eyes locked on hers. “I cared. I still do.”

Her lips parted, but the name that left them wasn’t his—it was the codename he hated. “Crackle,” she said, voice clipped, robotic, as if rehearsed a thousand times. The word cut through him like a blade. He flinched, but forced himself to steady, shaking his head. “No. Not Crackle. Gray,” he said, fierce, defiant. “Say it. You used to say it every night when we broke curfew, when you laughed at me for daring the Cleaners to catch us. Remember? Up on the rooftop, with the sea breeze in your hair and the stars you swore were brighter anywhere but here.” He took another step closer, ignoring the danger in her stance. “You’d lean on my shoulder, and you’d call me Gray, like I was more than just another thief-in-training. Like I was yours.”

For the first time, her expression faltered. A flicker—a crease in her brow, a hesitation in the way her eyes darted. Gray caught it, seized it like a lifeline. “That’s it. You remember,” he urged, his voice breaking into something softer, more desperate. His hand hovered in the air, trembling but open, waiting. “Remember the docks? The night we almost got caught sneaking back? You couldn’t stop laughing, even when we hid pressed against the wall, your hand gripping mine so tight I swore you’d never let go.” His throat tightened with emotion, but he forced the words out anyway. “You loved me then. You loved us. Don’t let them steal that from you.”

She staggered a step, pressing a hand to her temple, breathing quickening as fragmented memories tore through her mind. He could see it—the war waging behind her eyes, V.I.L.E’s lies colliding with the truth of their stolen moments. “Stop,” she hissed, though it sounded more like a plea than a command. Gray took the chance, closing the distance just enough that his voice dropped to a whisper only she could hear. “I don’t care if you hate me tomorrow. I don’t care if you knock me out right here and leave me behind. But, Lambkins…” His chest rose and fell sharply as he let the word slip, their word, trembling with everything he still carried for her. “I love you. I always have. And I know you loved me too.”

The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the hiss of wires and the pounding of both their hearts. {{user}}’s eyes darted away, then back to his, and for the first time in what felt like years, he saw a glimmer of recognition. Her breath caught as though she wanted to deny it, but the cracks in her mask were spreading, faster and faster. Gray’s hand inched closer until their fingers nearly brushed. “Please,” he whispered, no bravado left in him, no cocky smirk—just the raw, unguarded boy from the Academy rooftops, begging for her to come back. “Don’t let them take you away from me.”