Chasing Sparks

Jhoanna grew up in the backstreets of Tondo, where survival wasn’t just a skill—it was instinct. 

Sa lugar na 'yon, hindi puwedeng mabagal. 

Mabilis dapat mag-isip, mabilis dapat kumilos. Quick with words, quick with fists, and, in her case, quick on her feet.

Her world was built from rusted rooftops and narrow alleyways, where the air smelled of asphalt, sweat, and frying oil from karinderias that never seemed to close. 

She knew every shortcut, every back road, every way to slip past the eyes of the streets. She had to.

Her family had always worked hard, but in a city like Manila, hard work didn’t mean comfort—it meant barely scraping by. 

Her father, once a proud jeepney driver, lost his route when fuel prices skyrocketed, when the government pushed for modernization and left people like him behind. 

"Lipasan na kasi ‘yang mga lumang jeep, dapat kasi sumabay sa panahon," the authorities said. 

But how could they keep up when every step forward cost more than they could earn?

Her mother, with fingers worn raw from years of stitching clothes in Divisoria, used to hum old kundiman songs while she worked. 

Jhoanna wondered if the melodies were for comfort or distraction. 

Maybe both. 

They were honest people, hardworking, but in a city that never slept and never pitied, honesty and hard work weren’t enough.

And then the storm came.

It was a night no one would forget—the sky painted red and green, as if the heavens were bleeding. 

People stood outside, staring up, taking videos on their phones, marveling at what looked like dancing lights.

A once-in-a-lifetime event, they called it.

But Jhoanna remembered it differently.

She remembered the way her skin tingled, the sudden rush of energy flooding her veins, the itch in her muscles like something inside her was waking up. 

She ignored it at first, dismissed it as nothing but the excitement in the air.

Then, a week later, it happened.

She was running errands for her mother, weaving through the crowded streets of Tondo, when a group of older boys—gang members, the kind you didn’t look in the eye—stepped into her path. 

"May utang daw tatay mo," one of them said, blocking her way. Another cracked his knuckles. 

She knew how this went. She had seen it before—how debts became bruises, how threats turned into missing people.

She turned to run, but they reached for her—

And suddenly, she wasn’t there anymore.

One second, she was about to be grabbed. 

The next, she was halfway down the street, staring back at the blur of faces, her own breath caught in her throat. 

The world around her seemed to lag behind, like a video buffering in slow motion.

She could feel the energy thrumming beneath her skin, her heartbeat pounding like a war drum.

She had moved too fast for anyone to see.

The realization hit her like a freight train.

She had power.

Her first instinct was to tell her parents. But when she got home, panting and wide-eyed, her mother only gripped her arms, her face pale. 

“’Wag mong ipapakita sa iba.”

By then, the disappearances had already begun.

On the news, people with strange abilities were being “relocated” for national security. SIGMA officers patrolled the streets, watching, waiting. 

Rumors spread—about families dragged from their homes, about neighbors who saw them taken and never saw them again.

“Kapag nalaman nilang isa ka sa kanila, kukunin ka nila.”

So Jhoanna learned to run. To hide. To lie.

And eventually, to steal.

It started small. A piece of bread here, a packet of instant noodles there. Things to keep her family fed when money wasn’t enough. 

But soon, it wasn’t just food—she learned how to pickpocket, how to lift wallets from careless hands, how to outrun even the most determined police officers.

By sixteen, she had no choice but to disappear entirely.

SIGMA had caught wind of her existence, and with a warrant on her head, staying in one place meant death—or worse. 

She left behind the home she had always known, forced into the underground, where people like her had no choice but to fight back. 

That’s when she found Alon—a resistance network built by the people the government wanted to erase.

They gave her a new purpose. A new way to survive.

She became their fastest courier, their escape artist, the one who could slip through SIGMA’s grip like smoke. 

To the people she helped, she was a ghost, a rumor, a shadow that ran faster than the eye could track.

But she never wanted to be a hero.

She just wanted to be free.

Aiah grew up surrounded by discipline, her life measured in drills, schedules, and unspoken expectations. 

Every move calculated, every word weighed.

Her father, General Elias Dela Cruz, was one of SIGMA’s founding officers—the kind of man who commanded respect just by walking into a room. 

He wasn’t cruel, but he was cold. 

In his world, there was no place for hesitation or weakness. His daughter would be no exception.

Her mother, Dr. Eliza Dela Cruz, was a scientist, one of the minds tasked with studying the “anomalies” after the storm. 

She believed in research, in control, in preventing chaos before it could begin. 

“Ang kapangyarihan ay parang apoy,”she would tell Aiah. 

“Kung hindi mo kayang hawakan nang maayos, ikaw ang masusunog.”

Their home was a battlefield of expectations. From the moment Aiah could walk, she was pushed to be better, stronger. 

Excellence wasn’t an option—it was the bare minimum. She learned how to shoot before she turned twelve, how to fight before she was tall enough to reach the training equipment. 

Every mistake was met with silence, disappointment heavier than any punishment.

So she trained harder. Studied longer. Became the best at everything she did. 

Because if she was the best, she wouldn’t be overlooked. Wouldn’t be dismissed as just a soldier’s daughter.

And then the storm changed everything.

At first, it seemed like nothing. Just strange lights in the sky, a once-in-a-lifetime phenomenon.

But then people started changing—gaining abilities they weren’t meant to have. 

The government called it a crisis.

SIGMA was formed, not just to control the chaos but to eliminate the threats before they could rise. 

“Power without order is destruction.” That was what her father always said.

Aiah believed him.

Until the day she became part of that chaos.

She was fifteen when her power awakened. It started as static—tiny sparks that pricked her fingers whenever she touched metal. 

She ignored it at first, brushed it off as some side effect of exhaustion.

Then, one night in the training room, frustration boiled over. 

Her father had just told her she wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t fast enough.

The anger burned, sharp and electric.

And then it happened.

Lightning cracked from her fingertips, lashing across the room.

The force split the practice dummy in half, leaving scorch marks on the floor.

She barely had time to catch her breath before she turned to face her father.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t panic.

Instead, he looked at her with something eerily close to approval.

“Control it. Harness it.”

That was it. No fear. No concern. Just an order.

Unlike the others—the civilians who gained powers by accident—Aiah had been raised for this. Her entire life had been preparation. 

She wasn’t just an anomaly.

She was a soldier.

By eighteen, she was one of SIGMA’s top operatives, an elite enforcer specializing in hunting rogue supers. 

To the public, she was a protector, someone who kept order in a world tilting toward chaos.

To the people she hunted, she was a nightmare—silent, relentless, unstoppable.

“The ends justify the means,” they told her.

If keeping the country safe meant eliminating threats before they could escalate, then so be it.

If it meant tracking down rebels like Alon, people who refused to submit to the law, then she wouldn’t hesitate. 

If it meant capturing someone—reckless, defiant, dangerous—then she would do it.

Because she had to.

Because hesitation was a weakness.

Because if she let herself stop, even for a second, the doubt would creep in.

And then she might finally have to ask the question she had been avoiding all her life:

What if we’re the real villains in this story?

+

The rain hit the pavement in a steady rhythm, blurring the neon glow of Manila’s night. Down in the alleys of Quiapo, the streets were alive with movement—vendors haggling, jeepneys honking, the occasional bark of a stray dog. 

To most, it was just another chaotic evening in the city.

To SIGMA, it was a mission zone.

A covert operation had been set up near the old market, plainclothes officers blending into the crowd. 

Their target? A suspected Alon safe house, where rogue supers had been hiding out for weeks. 

Surveillance confirmed the presence of powered individuals, and tonight, SIGMA was set to take them in.

Everything was going according to plan.

Until she showed up.

A blur of motion tore through the marketplace.

Too fast to be a normal runner, too deliberate to be a mistake.  

A streak of dark clothing, weaving through the stalls, toppling a stack of plastic crates as a gust of wind followed in its wake. 

In the confusion, SIGMA officers scrambled, drawing weapons, shouting orders—

And then their targets were gone.

Prisoners who were supposed to be cornered vanished in the chaos.

A transport vehicle, meant to escort them to SIGMA headquarters, sat empty.

The entire operation unraveled in seconds.

A lone figure stood on a rooftop across the street, watching the aftermath with a smirk.

Jhoanna wiped the drizzle from her brow, breath steady despite the sprint.

Her hands still buzzed with adrenaline, her pulse thrumming in her ears. 

Below, SIGMA officers barked into radios, reporting a mission failure. She could practically hear the frustration in their voices.

“Better luck next time, mga kupal,” she muttered under her breath, before turning on her heel.

She had done her part. The rebels were safe.

Now all she had to do was get out before SIGMA reorganized.

She didn’t know, of course, that orders were already being given.

That within minutes, someone would be on her trail.

Somewhere in the heart of SIGMA headquarters, a monitor flickered to life, replaying the footage of the disruption. 

Rain-soaked streets. A shadow moving too fast for the cameras to track. A mission gone up in smoke.

Aiah Dela Cruz watched the recording in silence.

No hesitation. No mistakes. Whoever this rogue was, she was precise. Efficient. Dangerous.

Aiah’s jaw tightened.

“Assign her to me,” she said, her voice even, controlled.

Her commander nodded. “Find her.”

Aiah didn’t need to be told twice.

She turned, grabbed her coat, and stepped into the storm.

Aiah didn’t waste time.

She knew how rogues like this worked—always on the move, always slipping through cracks before SIGMA could close them. 

This wasn’t just about raw speed. It was about instinct. Patterns.

People like Jhoanna thought three steps ahead, but Aiah?

She thought five.

So she didn’t chase blindly.

Instead, she studied the footage. The angles.

The way Jhoanna moved through the marketplace, the routes she favored. 

Every escape had a rhythm, a strategy. No one moved without a plan—not someone this skilled.

Then she checked the city grid, overlaying SIGMA’s past encounters with Alon couriers.

There.

A pattern. Subtle, but unmistakable. 

Jhoanna wasn’t just running randomly—she had a circuit, a system.

She avoided checkpoints with surgical precision, cutting through markets and side streets that SIGMA rarely patrolled.

And if Aiah was right…

Jhoanna’s next route would take her through the abandoned Manman LRT station.

Perfect.

Aiah moved fast, deploying a small, silent SIGMA unit ahead of time—no sirens, no unnecessary noise. 

If Jhoanna even sensed an ambush, she’d vanish before they could react. This had to be clean.

By the time she arrived, the station was a ghost of its former self—rusted railings, shattered glass, the faint smell of mildew clinging to the air.

Rain dripped through a hole in the ceiling, pooling in cracks along the floor.

Aiah positioned herself near the old ticket booths, hands loose, posture deceptively relaxed.

Now, she waited.

And just as she predicted—

A gust of wind. A flicker of movement. A shadow slipping through the station.

Jhoanna didn’t even pause.

She moved like a wisp of smoke, effortlessly vaulting over debris, navigating the station with the confidence of someone who had done this a hundred times before.

Aiah almost admired it.

Almost.

Instead, she exhaled, low and steady.

Showtime.

She reached out—just a flicker of her fingers.

A pulse of electricity rippled through the damp floor, stretching toward the turnstiles like invisible wires.

Jhoanna’s feet barely touched the ground before—

CRACK.

Lightning lashed up from the metal railing, forcing her to twist mid-air, barely avoiding the strike.

The split-second hesitation was all Aiah needed.

She moved.

Faster than expected. Precise. Calculated.

In the time it took for Jhoanna to land, Aiah was already there, cutting off her escape.

The two locked eyes for the first time.

Jhoanna’s breath was quick, her stance still loose but now guarded, assessing the sudden shift. 

Aiah, in contrast, was unnervingly calm—shoulders squared, eyes sharp.

Then—

A smirk.

Jhoanna tilted her head, amusement flickering across her face. “So, ikaw pala ‘yung pinadala nila.”

Aiah didn’t take the bait. She simply flexed her fingers, sparks dancing between them.

“You’re fast,” she admitted. “But you’re not untouchable, Jhoanna.”

Jhoanna rolled her shoulders, as if shaking off the tension. “You know my name, that means sikat pala ako? Well, ang malas mo lang Miss Enforcer,” she murmured, stretching one leg back. 

“I hate being touched whoever you are.”

Then—boom.

She was gone.

A blur of motion, a rush of wind—trying to slip past her.

Aiah’s lips pressed into a thin line.

Not this time.

Lightning snapped, bright and blinding, sealing off Jhoanna’s path. The storm had begun.

Jhoanna moved first.

One second, she was standing there, cocky and defiant—the next, she was gone.

A rush of wind tore through the abandoned station, scattering loose papers and rattling rusted railings. 

She zigzagged through the debris, a blur of motion, too fast for the eye to follow.

To anyone else, it would have looked like she vanished into thin air.

But Aiah wasn’t just anyone.

CRACK—!

Lightning split through the darkness, searing white-hot against the rusted walls.

It wasn’t a wild strike—it was precise, controlled. 

The bolt leaped between metal beams, ricocheting off an old signage before slamming into the ground just inches from where Jhoanna had been a second ago.

A deliberate warning.

Jhoanna skidded to a stop, her smirk widening. “Aba, ginalingan ah. Ano ’to, warm-up pa lang?”

Aiah didn’t take the bait. She flexed her fingers, electricity humming between them like a living thing. 

“If you want a warm-up, mabuti pang tumakbo ka na. Aiah by the way, remember that name because I’m assigned to you once I took you tonight to our headquarters.”

Jhoanna laughed, the sound light and effortless, but her muscles were coiled tight, ready to spring. 

“Takbo? Bakit? Para lang habulin mo ulit? Grabe ka, miss enforcer—I mean Aiah, ang clingy mo naman.”

A flicker of irritation crossed Aiah’s face. She didn’t like being toyed with. 

Fine. 

If Jhoanna wanted to play, then she’d make sure she was the one setting the rules.

Aiah moved.

She flicked her wrist, sending another lightning strike not at Jhoanna, but at a fallen bench.

The impact sent metal shrapnel flying, forcing Jhoanna to adjust her footing. 

That was all Aiah needed.

She lunged.

Jhoanna barely had time to react before Aiah was there, close enough that she could see the sharp glint in her eyes. 

Aiah struck out with a lightning-charged palm, fast and lethal—

But Jhoanna was faster.

She twisted, pivoting at the last second, her fingers brushing against Aiah’s wrist before she pushed off.

The force of it sent dust and rain spiraling in every direction, knocking Aiah back a step. She gritted her teeth, barely regaining balance before sending a bolt of electricity in retaliation.

BOOM.

It hit a nearby pillar, sending concrete splintering apart.

Jhoanna laughed again, breathless, but thrilled. “Sayang. Pwede ka na sanang magpasabog ng tren.”

Aiah’s eyes narrowed. “Tatakbo ka na naman?”

“Syempre. Ano bang gagawin ko, yayakapin ka?” Jhoanna winked, stepping back just as a gust of wind curled around her legs. 

The pressure shifted—the telltale sign she was about to bolt.

Aiah didn’t wait. She struck first.

Lightning shot forward, fast as a whip—

But Jhoanna was already gone.

Just a blur of movement, slipping through the cracks before Aiah could stop her.

In an instant, she was halfway across the station, vaulting over debris like she had wings instead of feet.

Aiah clenched her fists.

She hates losing. But this wasn’t over.

+

Aiah stood in the aftermath, her breath even, her heart steady. The fight had lasted barely two minutes.

Too short. Too fast.

Her eyes swept over the ruined station, her mind cataloging every detail. 

The flickering remnants of electricity still danced along the metal beams, a stark contrast to the empty space where Jhoanna had stood just moments ago. 

The air reeked of ozone and burnt rubber, mingling with the damp scent of rain seeping through the station’s cracked ceiling. 

The concrete under her boots bore fresh scorch marks—her own doing.

She could still hear the faint echo of Jhoanna’s laughter. 

It had been reckless. Careless. Confident.

Aiah’s gaze dropped to her wrist, where she felt the slightest hint of warmth lingering beneath her glove. 

A single burnt thread marred her sleeve—so insignificant, so inconsequential—but she couldn't look away.

Jhoanna had touched her. Gotten close.

Close enough to unbalance her, to almost shift the tide of the fight.

Her fingers curled, the fabric of her uniform crinkling under the pressure. That should not have happened. 

She had prepared for this. She had studied Jhoanna’s patterns, her escape routes, her tendency to dart left before pivoting right.

Aiah had anticipated every move. 

And yet—

Jhoanna had still slipped away.

Unacceptable.

Aiah inhaled sharply through her nose, rolling her shoulders back as she forced herself to let go of the tension.

This isn’t over.

It never was.

She turned on her heel, sparks still crackling faintly at her fingertips. Next time, there would be no mistakes.

+

Four blocks away, Jhoanna pressed a hand against the rough brick of an alley wall, her breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts. The pounding of her heart wasn’t just from exertion—it was from the thrill.

She dragged a hand through her sweat-damp hair, tilting her head back as she sucked in lungfuls of humid Manila air.

That girl was fast. Too fast.

Jhoanna had fought plenty of SIGMA agents before.

They were predictable—relying too much on brute force, their tactics rigid, too focused on control. She had outpaced all of them.

Outwitted them. 

But Aiah?

Aiah had been different.

She had adapted too quickly, blocked too many of Jhoanna’s paths, and cut off her exits like she had already mapped out the entire station before the fight had even begun.

Jhoanna exhaled a quiet laugh, breathless and disbelieving.

"Shit. That was close."

Her fingers ghosted over the spot on her wrist where she had touched Aiah, barely a brush—just enough to feel the static charge buzzing under her skin. The memory of it sent a shiver through her spine.

“She’s good,” she muttered under her breath, lips curving into a smirk she couldn’t quite suppress.

It wasn’t just the danger of being caught that had sent that rush of excitement through her veins.

It was her. 

The way Aiah moved, the way she thought—it had been too precise to be luck.

She had been calculated.

For the first time in a long while, Jhoanna felt something that wasn’t just survival instinct.

It was a challenge.

And she never backed down from a challenge.

+

Manila had seen unrest before—protests against SIGMA’s policies, underground movements fighting for powered rights—but never like this.

It began subtly, almost unnoticeably. Reports of small-scale attacks barely made it past SIGMA’s news filters—an operative found dead in an alley, a rogue super vanishing without a trace. 

But those paying attention saw the signs. The patterns. 

SIGMA’s security tightened.

The black-market safe houses for powered individuals shut down one by one. The tension in the air thickened like the humidity before a storm.

And then, the first firebombing.

A SIGMA outpost in Quezon City went up in flames, its charred ruins left untouched for days as a warning. 

Authorities dismissed it as a gang-related attack, but those who knew whispered a different name: Itim na Bagwis.

Itim na Bagwis was no ordinary terrorist group.

They weren’t just radicals looking to cause chaos—they had a purpose. A belief.

SIGMA had built itself on the promise of "protecting the nation" from the super-powered anomaly crisis.

But to many, it was little more than a glorified military regime. 

People like Jhoanna—those who developed powers without asking for them—were hunted, detained, or simply disappeared. 

Fear of the unknown justified every crackdown, every raid, every vanishing name.

But rogue supers weren’t innocent, either.

Some had used their abilities for personal gain—crime syndicates hiring powered individuals as enforcers, underground fight rings profiting from enhanced strength, mercenaries offering their skills to the highest bidder.

SIGMA saw them as a threat. Itim na Bagwis saw them as symptoms of a broken system.

"Neither side deserves to win," their manifesto claimed. 

"SIGMA enforces oppression. The rogues enable chaos. We will cleanse them both."

At first, they only targeted SIGMA—burning facilities, assassinating high-ranking officers. But then they turned their sights to rogue supers, too.

Bodies were found in alleyways, bruised, bloodied, with their throats slit—and a single blackened feather placed beside them. A message. A warning.

And then, the LRT bombing.

It was the moment everything changed.

Rush hour. 

Hundreds packed into the station, waiting for their trains. Security barely noticed the lone figure stepping onto the platform—until it was too late. 

The explosion ripped through the structure, shattering glass, twisting metal, sending bodies flying.

The blast didn’t discriminate—ordinary citizens, SIGMA officers, and rogue supers alike were caught in the devastation.

The death toll climbed past fifty. Injuries doubled that number.

In the aftermath, SIGMA tightened its grip on the city, imposing curfews, doubling surveillance, branding every rogue super a potential terrorist. 

Meanwhile, Itim na Bagwis gained more followers—desperate people who had lost families in SIGMA’s raids or feared a future ruled by unchecked powers.

Manila became a battleground.

No one was safe.

+

Jhoanna knew something was up the moment she stepped into the safehouse.

For one, Gwen looked like she wanted to bash her head against the wall.

She wasn’t the type to call meetings unless it was serious, and the tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife. 

The place was a dingy, half-abandoned apartment—one of Alon’s hidden safe zones, tucked into the fringes of the city where SIGMA’s surveillance was weakest. 

The air reeked of mildew and cigarette smoke, a busted electric fan groaning in the corner as it tried and failed to push the humid air around. 

Gwen stood by the rusting table, arms crossed, exhaustion pressing into her shoulders.

But Jhoanna barely noticed any of that—because standing stiffly across the room, in full SIGMA tactical gear, was Aiah.

Her first instinct was to bolt. 

The second was to punch Gwen in the face.

Instead, she leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. "This is a joke, right?" she scoffed. 

"Tell me you’re joking, Gwen, because I’d rather take my chances with a SIGMA drone than work with—” 

She jerked her chin toward Aiah, who looked as stiff and composed as ever, arms clasped behind her back like she was still at some military briefing.

"With me?" Aiah finished coolly. 

Her tone was neutral, but there was something sharp in her gaze—contempt, maybe.

"Trust me, the feeling is mutual. If I had any say in this, you'd already be in cuffs."

"Aw, sweetie. You wish," Jhoanna shot back, letting a smirk creep onto her lips. 

She watched as Aiah’s jaw ticked—just barely—but she caught it. Bingo.

"Tangina," Gwen muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

"Can you two shut up for one second?"

Jhoanna exhaled, still grinning, but she let Gwen talk. For now.

Gwen turned to Aiah first. "Look, SIGMA’s losing people left and right. You wouldn’t be here if they weren’t desperate."

Then she turned to Jhoanna, expression darkening. 

"And you? If Itim na Bagwis wipes out every super in this city, you’re next."

Jhoanna huffed, shoving her hands into her jacket pockets and kicking at a loose floor tile. 

She hated that Gwen had a point.

She knew better than anyone that the streets weren’t safe.

Itim na Bagwis wasn’t just targeting SIGMA anymore—they were going after powered individuals, wiping them out like some twisted form of cleansing. 

She’d lost contact with three of her usual informants in the last week alone.

And she might’ve been fast, but even she couldn’t outrun a city-wide purge.

Still—working with Aiah? With SIGMA?

The thought made her stomach churn. These were the same people who had been hunting her for years. 

The same ones who slapped the label criminal on her just for existing.

Aiah’s gaze was still on her, sharp and unwavering, like she was already calculating the fastest way to put her in chains.

Jhoanna met it head-on, refusing to be the first to look away.

"This doesn’t mean I trust you," she muttered.

Aiah’s lips curled into something that almost resembled a smirk. "Good. Because I don’t trust you either."

Jhoanna rolled her eyes. "Wow. Amazing. Can’t wait to spend every waking moment with your charming personality."

"Then don’t waste my time," Aiah shot back smoothly. "Try to keep up."

Jhoanna’s smirk widened. "Sweetheart, if there’s one thing I’ll never do, it’s fall behind."

Jhoanna let out an exaggerated sigh, dragging a hand through her hair. “You know, I can’t believe this is happening. Of all people, talaga?” 

She shot a look at Gwen. “You couldn’t have picked someone less murderous?”

Aiah scoffed, crossing her arms. “Funny. I was just thinking the same thing.”

Jhoanna turned back to her with a smirk. “Tsk, ang bilis mong makalimot, agent. Weren’t you the one who tried to fry me the first time we met?” She tapped her chin in mock thought. 

Aiah’s expression remained unreadable, but her fingers twitched—like she was holding herself back from zapping Jhoanna right here, right now. “I remember you almost kicking me.”

“Almost.” Jhoanna winked. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

“Unfortunately.”

Gwen groaned, rubbing her temples. “Ay, putang—do I need to remind you two that you nearly killed each other back then? That’s not something to brag about.”

Jhoanna just grinned. “Hey, in my defense, it was self-preservation. Someone was throwing lightning at me.”

Aiah raised a brow. “And someone was tearing through a SIGMA operation like it was a game.”

Jhoanna shrugged. “Ano, kasalanan ko bang mabagal kayo?”

Aiah’s eyes flashed, but she exhaled slowly, reining herself in. "My mistake was thinking you’d run in a straight line."

Jhoanna tilted her head, pretending to look impressed. "Wow. Ang taas naman ng tingin mo sa sarili mo. Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but you were just too slow."

Aiah took a step closer, her voice even but laced with quiet steel. "You were lucky."

Jhoanna stepped forward too, closing the space between them just enough to be a challenge. "You wish."

Lightning crackled at Aiah’s fingertips. 

The air around them grew charged, the temperature shifting. 

But Jhoanna didn’t flinch. 

Instead, her smirk widened.

Gwen clapped her hands together, stepping between them before things escalated. 

"Okay, enough sexual tension—I mean, hostility!" She gave them both pointed looks. 

"We get it. You almost killed each other. But guess what? You didn’t. So now, you’re gonna use that energy to take down the actual threats before they take all of us down. Clear?"

Silence stretched between them.

Jhoanna huffed, stepping back first. “Fine. But if she tries to zap me again, I’m throwing her off a building.”

Aiah rolled her eyes. “If you even get the chance.”

The unholy alliance had been Gwen’s idea—or more accurately, a desperate, last-ditch solution to an impossible problem.

Gwen wasn’t just a random Alon operative.

She was one of their best strategists, a master of information and survival, with ears in every back alley, every underground bar, every forgotten corner of the city. 

And for weeks, her sources had been feeding her the same grim intel—Itim na Bagwis was escalating.

The LRT bombing had been their declaration of war, but the real nightmare came after.

Coordinated attacks on SIGMA’s key facilities. Systematic assassinations of rogue supers who refused to join their cause. 

Sudden disappearances of powered individuals, their bodies never found—only blackened feathers left behind as a warning.

It wasn’t just chaos anymore. It was a purge. And it was working.

Alon was losing people. SIGMA was losing people. 

The city was turning into a war zone. And in a rare, terrifying moment of clarity, both sides realized they were fighting the same enemy.

That was why Aiah was here.

Despite her reputation as SIGMA’s most relentless enforcer, Aiah wasn’t just a mindless soldier. 

She was precise. Calculated. Deadly. 

The kind of agent who always completed a mission—no matter what it took.

SIGMA needed results, and after losing too many operatives, the higher-ups were finally willing to make a deal.

Aiah was assigned to track down Itim na Bagwis’ high-value targets.

But she needed insider knowledge. 

Someone who understood the underground, who could move unseen, who knew where to dig.

She needed Jhoanna.

Not that Jhoanna gave a damn about SIGMA’s problems.

She had spent half her life running from them, outpacing their drones, dodging their crackdowns, laughing in their faces every time they failed to catch her. 

The thought of working with one of their agents—with Aiah, of all people—was enough to make her skin crawl.

But Alon was losing people too. 

People who had protected her. People who had taught her how to fight, how to survive. 

And the ugly truth was—if Itim na Bagwis wasn’t stopped, it wouldn’t matter who was rogue and who was SIGMA anymore.

There wouldn’t be any of them left.

So here she was, standing in a dingy safehouse, staring down the woman who had nearly electrocuted her the first time they met.

"Let me get this straight," Jhoanna drawled, arms crossed, gaze flicking between Gwen and Aiah. 

"You want me to team up with her? Seriously?"

Aiah’s voice was just as flat. "Believe me, I’m not thrilled about it either."

Jhoanna let out a sharp laugh. "Oh, I know, sweetheart. But you? Stuck with me? I bet that keeps you up at night."

Gwen exhaled, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Can we skip the foreplay? This is happening whether you like it or not."

Jhoanna shot her a glare. "Yeah? And who exactly decided that?"

"Me," Gwen deadpanned. 

"And unless you have a better idea for not dying in the next two weeks, I suggest you deal with it."

Jhoanna opened her mouth, then closed it. Damn it.

She could feel Aiah’s gaze on her, steady and unreadable.

This was a terrible idea.

But saying no?

That was worse.

+

Jhoanna slammed her hands on the rickety table, sending a few scattered maps flying onto the grimy floor. The dim light above them flickered, casting jagged shadows across the walls of the safe house.

"I told you already—your plan is shit."

Aiah didn’t flinch. 

She stood rigid, arms crossed over her chest, every inch of her posture screaming unyielding control. Her gaze, sharp and assessing, stayed locked onto Jhoanna like she was some chaotic variable that needed to be contained.

“And what exactly do you suggest?” Aiah asked, voice cool, calculated. 

“Running in blind like you always do?”

Jhoanna scoffed, pushing away from the table. "Worked so far."

Aiah exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "Yeah? Tell that to the three Alon operatives we just lost."

Jhoanna froze for half a second, just long enough for the words to sink in. Then she forced out a smirk, tilting her head. 

“You care now, ha? Didn’t think SIGMA agents were capable of emotions.”

Aiah didn’t rise to the bait. She met Jhoanna’s gaze evenly. “I don’t care about your people,” she said bluntly. 

“I care about results.”

Jhoanna let out a short laugh, looking at Gwen. "Tell me why I haven’t punched her yet?"

Gwen barely glanced up from her notes, exhaustion weighing on her features. "Because you know she’d hit back harder."

Jhoanna opened her mouth, then shut it. Damn it.

Aiah was already moving, flipping over the map on the table and tracing a new route with a gloved finger. 

“We’ll do it my way. You’ll keep up, or you’ll stay out of the way.”

Jhoanna huffed, stepping closer, the air between them charged with unspoken challenge. Aiah had to tilt her chin slightly to meet her gaze, refusing to back down.

“If I didn’t know better,” Jhoanna murmured, her lips curling, “I’d think you enjoy bossing me around.”

Aiah’s lips barely twitched, her voice calm and edged with something unreadable. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you enjoyed following orders.”

Jhoanna grinned, slow and sharp. “Try me, sweetheart.”

Gwen groaned, rubbing her temples. “I hate both of you.”

+

Gunfire ripped through the air, a deafening staccato of destruction. The abandoned warehouse was bathed in smoke and flickering light from shattered neon signs. 

The acrid scent of burning metal filled Jhoanna’s lungs as she dashed behind a rusted crate, just as bullets shredded the air where she had been seconds before.

“Putangina,” she muttered under her breath, shaking off the dust that rained down on her. 

“Would it kill SIGMA to give you better plans?” she shouted across the chaos.

Aiah, crouched behind a steel beam, reloaded her pistol with a smooth, practiced motion. Not a single movement was wasted. 

“Would it kill you to follow one?” she shot back, voice as sharp as her aim.

Jhoanna rolled her eyes, ducking as another round of gunfire slammed into their cover. The enemy—Itim na Bagwis operatives—were closing in fast. 

She could see it in the way their formation tightened, how they cut off every possible escape route. They were being herded, boxed in like cornered animals.

Her jaw clenched. No way in hell was she dying in some godforsaken warehouse with a SIGMA agent of all people.

She turned her head just enough to catch Aiah’s gaze from across the room. 

“We need an exit,” she said, already scanning for one.

“No shit,” Aiah deadpanned, checking her remaining ammo.

Jhoanna spotted a gap in the enemy’s movement—small, but just enough for her to slip through. 

“Cover me,” she ordered, already pushing off the ground before Aiah could even respond.

“Jhoanna—”

Too late.

Jhoanna was already moving, a blur of motion as she darted through the chaos, weaving between gunfire with reckless confidence. 

She heard Aiah curse, followed by the sharp cracks of precise gunshots—cover fire. 

She grinned. 

At least the agent could follow orders when it mattered.

She reached another set of crates, ducking just in time as bullets grazed the air above her. 

“See?” she called out, breathless but smug. 

“Perfectly fi—”

A firm hand grabbed the collar of her jacket and yanked her backward—hard.

Jhoanna barely had time to react before she crashed into solid muscle, the impact knocking the air from her lungs. 

Her back was pressed against Aiah’s chest, their faces inches apart.

“What the—”

“You reckless idiot. Do you have a fucking death wish?” Aiah hissed, grip tight, eyes dark with frustration.

Jhoanna blinked, momentarily thrown off by the heat radiating off Aiah, the smell of gunpowder and steel clinging to her.

Then she smirked. “Aww, you do care.”

Aiah’s jaw clenched. “We are leaving. Now.”

Jhoanna held her gaze for a beat longer, lips twitching like she was about to say something reckless. 

But then another round of bullets tore through the crates beside them, splinters flying. The banter could wait.

With a final exchange of defiant glares, they moved—two forces unwilling to bend, but somehow, in the heat of battle, always finding a way to fit together. 

Like it or not.

+

They had barely made it out alive.

The mission had gone to hell the moment they set foot in that warehouse. What was supposed to be a simple recon op turned into an all-out firefight when Itim na Bagwis operatives ambushed them. 

Jhoanna had been the first to spot the trap, but by then, it was too late—the gunfire had already started, the exits cut off.

Jhoanna moved on instinct. The world sharpened into raw survival as she wove through the chaos, a blur of motion between crates and metal beams. 

Bullets whizzed past her, the air thick with the acrid scent of gunpowder. She barely had time to register the spray of sparks as a round ricocheted off the steel inches from her face. She ducked low, rolling behind cover, breathing hard. 

"Would it kill SIGMA to give you better plans?" she shouted over the gunfire.

Aiah, crouched behind a steel beam, reloaded her pistol with a smooth, practiced motion. 

"Would it kill you to follow one?" she shot back, popping up just long enough to fire off a round. 

One enemy dropped. Two more replaced him.

Jhoanna peeked out, cursing. The enemy was closing in, tightening their formation, herding them like prey. 

"They're boxing us in! We need to move—"

The words barely left her mouth before the crate beside her exploded into splinters. She barely had time to register the impact before she was already sprinting. 

She was fast enough—she had always been fast enough.

But not this time.

The moment she lunged for the exit, pain exploded across her shoulder. The force of the bullet sent her stumbling, her vision going white for a split second. 

Her knees hit the ground hard, her palms scraping against rough concrete. She barely had time to recover before another shot nearly took her head off.

Aiah was there before she could even process it, grabbing her wrist and yanking her forward. “Move!”

Jhoanna gritted her teeth, forcing herself to keep running despite the burning in her shoulder. The alleyways blurred as they tore through them, feet splashing against rain-slicked pavement. 

Neon lights flickered against the downpour, and the scent of smoke and wet asphalt thickened the air. The gunfire faded behind them, but Jhoanna knew better than to slow down. 

They weren’t safe. Not yet.

By the time they reached the safe house—an old, abandoned apartment tucked into the outskirts of the city—Jhoanna’s entire arm felt like it was on fire.

The rain had been relentless for hours, turning the alleys into rivers of grime. 

They barely managed to slip inside before another explosion rocked the streets behind them.

Now, they were stuck.

The small room was suffocating, filled with the damp heat of two people who didn’t want to be near each other—but had no choice.

Jhoanna peeled off her soaked hoodie, hissing when the fabric clung to her wound. Blood had seeped through, staining her shirt in deep crimson. 

She ignored it, wringing out her hoodie over the sink. "If you tell me to sit still, I swear to god—"

Aiah didn’t even look up from the med kit. “Then don’t make me tell you.”

Jhoanna scowled, but before she could fire back, Aiah was already moving. She pressed a cloth soaked in alcohol against the wound without warning.

Jhoanna sucked in a sharp breath, muscles tensing. “Putangina,” she muttered through clenched teeth. 

“A little warning next time?”

Aiah’s expression remained unreadable. “Masasanay ka rin.”

Jhoanna let out a humorless chuckle. “Cute. You think I’ll still be alive long enough for that.”

Aiah’s hand stilled for a second—just a second—before she resumed bandaging.

“Not if you keep being reckless.”

Jhoanna wanted to snap back. She wanted to laugh in Aiah’s face and tell her that she didn’t need her concern.

But instead, she stayed still and let her finish wrapping the wound.

Jhoanna flexed her fingers experimentally, testing the tightness of the bandage. It stung like hell, a deep, pulsing ache in her shoulder, but she wasn’t about to let it show. 

Instead, she leaned back against the wall, exhaling through her nose as she watched Aiah methodically pack up the med kit. 

Every movement was precise—gloved fingers tucking away gauze, alcohol, sutures—like she was trying to scrub the entire moment from existence.

The rain continued its relentless assault outside, drumming against the rusting metal roof. 

The air inside was thick, a mix of sweat, damp clothes, and the sharp scent of disinfectant. 

They were too close, trapped in this suffocating space with nowhere to go, nothing to focus on but each other.

Jhoanna smirked, letting the silence stretch just a little longer before breaking it. “Kita mo ‘yon?” she drawled, shifting slightly despite the sharp pain that followed. 

“Tamaan man ako, buhay pa rin. Mabilis pa rin ako.”

Aiah scoffed without looking up. “Mabilis kang maging pabigat, oo.”

Jhoanna chuckled, low and teasing. “Tsk, tsk. ‘Yan ba ang paraan mo ng pasasalamat? Kung ‘di ako tumakbo sa gitna ng putukan, wala tayong exit.”

Aiah didn’t reply immediately. She just snapped the med kit shut—too forcefully, the sound echoing in the tiny space. 

When she finally spoke, her voice was flat, controlled. “Kung ‘di ka nagmamagaling, hindi ka tinamaan.”

Jhoanna sucked in a breath, then placed a dramatic hand over her chest. 

“Grabe ka, Aiah. Konting concern naman d’yan. Halos mamatay ako tapos ganyan ka makitungo?”

Aiah’s head snapped up, eyes sharp and cutting. “Halos mamatay ka kasi gago ka.”

Jhoanna grinned, unfazed. If anything, the annoyance in Aiah’s voice only fueled her. “Pero buhay pa rin, ‘di ba?”

A flicker of something passed over Aiah’s face—frustration, irritation, something else—but she squashed it down just as fast. 

She stood up, grabbing a towel from the nearby chair and tossing it in Jhoanna’s face. “Matulog ka na.”

Jhoanna pulled the towel off with a snicker, shaking out the damp fabric. “Teka, worried ka nga ba talaga? Affected ka ba, agent?”

Aiah’s jaw tightened. Her hands curled into fists for a brief second before she turned away, moving to the opposite side of the room where the shadows swallowed most of her expression. 

“Matulog ka na, Jhoanna.”

Jhoanna let out a quiet laugh, low and victorious. She had won this round.

But even as she closed her eyes, she could still feel it—that lingering weight of Aiah’s gaze, sharp and unreadable. 

For once, Jhoanna didn’t push. She just let the silence settle between them, thick and unspoken.

+

The night sky was ablaze.

Smoke curled in thick plumes, swallowing the neon glow of the city as gunfire rattled through the abandoned district. 

The streets were a warzone—windows shattered, neon signs flickering, the air thick with the acrid scent of gunpowder.

Jhoanna and Aiah moved like twin storms—one a blur of speed, weaving through the chaos, the other a cold, calculated force, every movement precise.

“Left flank, tatlo!” Jhoanna shouted over the deafening gunfire, ducking behind a crumbling concrete barrier just as a bullet whizzed past her ear.

Aiah didn’t hesitate. She pivoted smoothly, raising her gun and firing three precise shots. 

The operatives dropped before Jhoanna could even blink.

Jhoanna let out a low whistle. “Galing. SIGMA training talaga.”

Aiah barely spared her a glance, already reloading. “Wala akong oras sa compliment mo.”

Jhoanna smirked, wiping sweat and rain from her brow. “Pikon.”

Before Aiah could fire back, an explosion rocked the ground beneath them. The force sent Jhoanna skidding backward, her ears ringing. 

Smoke swallowed the street, and through the haze, she saw figures emerging from the alleyway—more of them.

“Putangina—mas madami ‘to,” Jhoanna muttered, scanning the area. They were boxed in.

Aiah’s gun clicked empty. Without missing a beat, she discarded it, smoothly drawing her knife. “Then don’t get shot this time.”

Jhoanna rolled her eyes. “Kala mo choice ko ‘yun?”

She launched forward before Aiah could answer, a blur of movement as she tore through the fray. 

The first enemy barely had time to react before she twisted his wrist, forcing him to drop his gun. With a sharp elbow to his ribs, he crumpled.

Aiah was right behind her. She sidestepped an incoming attack, grabbed the enemy’s wrist, and drove her blade into his side in one clean, brutal motion. 

Blood sprayed against the cracked pavement as the man collapsed.

They moved in sync—Jhoanna creating openings, Aiah finishing them.

It should’ve been easy.

But then—

A flicker of movement from the rooftops. 

A sniper.

Jhoanna’s instincts screamed at her a second too late. 

She twisted, saw the glint of the scope—

Bang.

Pain. Hot and blinding.

Her breath hitched as fire spread through her side, her legs nearly buckling. The world tilted.

“Jhoanna!”

Aiah was there before she could even process it, grabbing her wrist and yanking her forward. “Move!”

Jhoanna gritted her teeth, forcing herself to keep running. 

The pain pulsed with every step, but she pushed forward, the burn of adrenaline drowning out everything else.

They tore through the alleys, feet splashing against rain-slicked pavement, neon lights reflecting off puddles. 

Behind them, footsteps thundered, shouts echoing through the narrow streets.

They turned a corner—only to be met with another squad blocking their escape.

Jhoanna’s stomach dropped.

Nowhere to go.

Aiah’s grip on her wrist tightened for half a second—then she moved.

In one fluid motion, she grabbed Jhoanna’s collar and shoved her into the nearest doorway.

Jhoanna barely had time to react before she found herself pressed against cold concrete, the metallic taste of blood in her mouth, Aiah’s body flush against hers in the tight space of an abandoned shop entrance.

Too close.

Too warm.

Aiah’s hands braced on either side of her, trapping her against the wall as the sound of boots stormed past their hiding spot. 

For a few seconds, neither of them breathed.

Jhoanna’s pulse jumped. She could see the cut on Aiah’s cheek, the way her damp hair stuck to her skin, the rise and fall of her chest against Jhoanna’s own.

A stupid thought crept in—she looks good like this.

Aiah’s eyes flickered downward.

To her lips.

Jhoanna’s fingers twitched against Aiah’s wrist, gripping just a little tighter.

For one, impossible second, neither of them moved.

Then—Aiah pulled back. Just a fraction, just enough to put space between them. Her voice was low, controlled.

“We need to move.”

Jhoanna let out a slow breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“Yeah,” she muttered, pushing off the wall. “Right.”

Neither of them looked at each other as they disappeared into the night.

+

The SIGMA headquarters loomed ahead, a stark contrast to the chaos they had just escaped. The building was a fortress—hidden in plain sight, blending into the cityscape like any other corporate structure. 

But beneath the polished exterior, it was anything but ordinary.

Aiah’s grip on Jhoanna’s wrist never loosened as they slipped through the secured back entrance, past guards who barely gave Aiah a second glance but stared at Jhoanna like she was an intruder.

Well. She kinda was.

Jhoanna smirked despite the pulsing pain in her side, throwing the nearest SIGMA operative a wink. “Miss niyo ako?”

The guy scowled but didn’t say anything. Aiah, however, tightened her grip and all but dragged Jhoanna down the hall.

“Relax,” Jhoanna grunted, stumbling slightly. 

“’Di naman ako tatakbo. Bleeding out ako, remember?”

Aiah didn’t answer, just pushed open a door and pulled her inside. The med bay was sterile, too white, too clean—so different from the grimy safe houses Jhoanna was used to.

“Up,” Aiah ordered, nodding toward the cot.

Jhoanna raised an eyebrow. “Ang romantic mo talaga.”

Aiah ignored her, already reaching for the med kit.

Jhoanna sighed, lowering herself onto the cot with a wince. She felt the blood-soaked fabric of her shirt stick to her skin as she moved, the pain sharp enough to make her curse under her breath.

Aiah wasted no time. She knelt beside her, hands already tugging at Jhoanna’s hoodie.

Jhoanna blinked. “Wow, wala man lang foreplay?”

Aiah yanked the fabric up in response, making Jhoanna hiss as the wound was exposed to the cold air.

“Putangina, dahan-dahan naman—”

“You’re the one who keeps getting shot,” Aiah muttered, eyes narrowing as she inspected the wound. 

“And you’re still making jokes?”

Jhoanna grinned, but it faltered slightly as Aiah reached for an alcohol-soaked cloth. “Mas maganda ‘yung ganito kaysa—”

Aiah pressed the cloth against her wound.

Jhoanna’s entire body tensed. A sharp, stinging pain exploded in her side, white-hot and unrelenting.

“Putangina mo, Aiah—!” she ground out through gritted teeth.

Aiah’s lips twitched—not quite a smirk, but close. “Mas maganda ‘yung ganito kaysa?” she echoed.

Jhoanna groaned. “You’re evil.”

Aiah didn’t respond, just kept working. Her touch was careful, precise, but there was something else there too—something Jhoanna almost missed in the way Aiah’s fingers lingered a little too long against her skin.

For a few moments, the only sound in the room was the soft rustling of gauze, the occasional hiss from Jhoanna when Aiah’s hands brushed too close to the wound.

Then—

“You were reckless kanina,” Aiah murmured, voice quiet but firm.

Jhoanna blinked, caught off guard by the shift in tone. “Akala ko sanay ka na?”

Aiah’s hands stilled for just a second.

Then she exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. “I’m serious.”

Jhoanna hesitated. “Ano bang gusto mong gawin ko? Maglakad-lakad na parang normal lang habang binabaril tayo?”

Aiah’s jaw tightened. “You could’ve died.”

Jhoanna opened her mouth for another smart remark—but stopped.

Aiah wasn’t looking at her, but her hands had curled into fists.

For the first time that night, something heavy settled between them.

Jhoanna swallowed, forcing a chuckle. “Hindi naman ako madaling mamatay.”

Aiah’s eyes flickered to hers. And for a moment—just a moment—there was something raw there.

Then, just as quickly, it was gone.

She finished bandaging the wound in silence.

Jhoanna let her.

When Aiah finally stood, discarding the bloodied gauze, she spoke without looking back. “Matulog ka na. Maaga tayo bukas.”

Jhoanna leaned back on the cot, watching as Aiah moved toward the door.

Her body ached. Her wound throbbed. But her mind—her mind was stuck on the way Aiah’s hands had lingered, the way her voice had softened, the way she hadn’t let go of Jhoanna’s wrist until they reached SIGMA.

She should’ve let it go.

But instead, she found herself smirking.

“Salamat, ha.”

Aiah paused. She didn’t turn around, but Jhoanna caught the way her shoulders tensed.

Then, softer—quieter—Jhoanna added, “Next time, try not to look so worried.”

Aiah exhaled sharply. “Ikaw ang ‘wag maging tanga.”

And with that, she left.

Jhoanna chuckled to herself, leaning back.

Yeah. She was totally going to keep pissing Aiah off.

+

Sleep didn’t come easy.

Jhoanna lay on the cot, staring at the ceiling, the dull throb in her side a constant reminder of just how close she had come to dying tonight. 

She should’ve been exhausted—she was exhausted—but her mind wouldn’t shut up.

SIGMA.

It had been years since she last stepped foot in one of their facilities. Years since she had slipped through their grasp, a ghost in the system, always running, always hiding. 

Yet here she was, resting in the belly of the beast, with Aiah just one door away.

The thought made her smirk. A few hours ago, they had nearly died. Now? 

She was in enemy territory, and Aiah—her greatest rival, her greatest distraction—had been the one to drag her here.

She couldn’t ignore the pull of curiosity.

Jhoanna sat up carefully, testing her body. The bandages held, though pain flared when she shifted. 

Whatever. She’d had worse. 

She needed to move. To see what secrets SIGMA kept behind their spotless white walls.

+

Jhoanna moved like a ghost through the silent halls of SIGMA headquarters. The sleek, metallic corridors gleamed under the dim emergency lighting, casting long, eerie shadows. 

The place was colder at night—not just in temperature but in atmosphere. Sterile. Controlled. 

Too quiet. Too calculated.

She shouldn’t be here.

But curiosity was a dangerous thing, and Jhoanna had never been good at ignoring danger. 

Especially when it came wrapped in something as tempting as mystery.

Her shoulder throbbed from the earlier firefight, the bandages stiff against her skin, but she ignored it. 

Aiah had patched her up again—annoyed, efficient, and oddly gentle in a way that made Jhoanna’s chest ache more than the wound. 

Staying in SIGMA for the night had been a reluctant choice, but it was the closest safe place after the battle. 

Safe, though, was a loose term.

She didn’t trust this place.

And she sure as hell didn’t trust SIGMA.

Jhoanna’s footsteps were soundless against the smooth floors, her breath steady despite the lingering exhaustion in her limbs. 

She passed through darkened offices, past locked briefing rooms, past the scent of something too clean to be natural. 

Every door was tightly secured—until one wasn’t.

A faint glow slipped through the narrow gap of an office door left slightly ajar.

Jhoanna stilled, instincts flaring. Someone had been here recently. Maybe someone was still inside.

She should walk away.

Instead, she slipped through the gap, barely disturbing the air as she moved.

The room was dark except for the blue glow of a holoscreen left running on the desk. The nameplate beside it made her pulse spike.

General Elias Dela Cruz.

Aiah’s father.

Jhoanna’s fingers curled at her sides. The leader of SIGMA. The man responsible for hunting down people like her.

Her gaze flicked to the holoscreen. Files blinked in and out of existence—reports, mission logs, classified directives. 

The sheer weight of knowledge at her fingertips sent a thrill of unease down her spine.

She hesitated.

Then she tapped the interface.

The files expanded. Mission reports. Raid logs. Termination orders. She skimmed through them with increasing urgency, heart hammering as the pieces of a horrifying puzzle fell into place. 

Then she saw it—

“Project Eradication: The Enhanced Threat.”

Jhoanna’s breath caught. Her stomach twisted as she read. 

Surveillance, capture, elimination. Enhanced individuals flagged as high-risk threats to national security. 

No trials. No negotiations. Just a quiet, efficient purge.

Her chest tightened as she scrolled past name after name—some she recognized, some she didn’t. 

But then she saw one that made her blood turn to ice.

Aiah Dela Cruz.

Jhoanna’s vision swam. She had to blink, had to force herself to reread it, but the letters didn’t change.

Aiah’s name was on the list.

Her head reeled. Aiah?

 Aiah? Was this a mistake? 

Did she know? Was she fighting SIGMA from the inside, or was she just as unaware as Jhoanna had been?

She pressed a trembling hand against the desk, forcing herself to breathe. Think.

Her mind raced through the worst possibilities. 

If Aiah knew, what did that mean? 

If she didn’t… would she even believe Jhoanna if she told her?

Jhoanna’s breath hitched.

The shadow outside the door didn’t move, but she could feel whoever it was standing there, listening, waiting.

Her pulse pounded as she forced herself to remain still. Think. 

Don’t panic. Don’t make a sound.

With slow, measured movements, she backed away from the desk, heart hammering. She needed to leave before whoever was outside decided to come in—before she got caught where she shouldn’t be.

But just as she turned, her eyes flicked back to the holoscreen.

And she saw her own name.

Jhoanna Velasquez.

The breath she had been holding escaped in a sharp, silent exhale.

Her name was right there, next to Aiah’s, under the same grim heading. 

Project Eradication. Termination Pending.

The air in her lungs turned to ice.

She knew, deep down, that SIGMA would never see people like her as anything but threats. She had always assumed she was on their hit list. 

But Aiah?

The knot in her chest twisted into something sharp, something dangerous.

SIGMA didn’t just hunt enhanced individuals. They hunted their own.

Jhoanna clenched her jaw, fingers curling into fists. 

She had to move. Now.

She had to get out of here. She had to wake Aiah. She had to—

A floorboard creaked.

Jhoanna froze.

The hallway beyond the door was no longer empty. A shadow loomed just outside, unmoving. Watching.

Jhoanna swallowed down the panic clawing at her throat. 

Stay calm.

The shadow shifted, stepping into the doorway. 

Not a soldier. 

Not Aiah.

An old man stood there, a maintenance worker judging by the gray coveralls and the cleaning cart parked outside the room. 

He squinted at her, suspicion laced in the furrow of his brows.

Jhoanna forced her muscles to relax, schooling her expression into something less like I just uncovered a conspiracy that could get me killed and more like I have no idea where I am.

She blinked at him, tilting her head in feigned sheepishness. “Uh… sir? Alam niyo po ba kung saan yung comfort room?”

The man didn’t look convinced. His gaze flickered from her to the glowing holoscreen, then back to her stiff posture.

Jhoanna made herself shift, rubbing the back of her neck as if embarrassed. 

“Medyo naliligaw kasi ako. First time sa HQ. Ang laki pala dito, no?” She forced a chuckle. 

“Puro pintuan, parang maze.”

Silence.

The man narrowed his eyes, and for a second, she thought he’d call security.

Then, with a grumble, he jerked a thumb down the hall. “Diretso lang, kanan sa dulo.”

Jhoanna exhaled, flashing an easy grin. “Salamat po!”

She moved past him, keeping her pace steady, casual—don’t run, don’t look back—until she turned the corner. 

Only then did she let out a shaky breath.

That was too close.

She needed to get to Aiah. Now.

Jhoanna found Aiah in one of the private quarters, sitting at the edge of the bed, head bowed, hands clasped together like she was trying to ground herself. 

The room was nothing like Jhoanna expected—sterile, minimalist, lacking anything personal. No photos, no trinkets, no books left open or half-drunk cups of coffee on the nightstand. 

The walls were bare, the furniture stiff and uninviting. 

There was nothing to suggest that Aiah had lived here, only that she had existed here.

Just like SIGMA. Cold. Empty. Controlled.

Jhoanna didn't bother knocking. She stepped inside, shutting the door behind her with more force than necessary. 

The sharp click of the lock sent a tremor through the silent space. 

Aiah lifted her head at the sound, her sharp eyes narrowing despite the exhaustion etched into her features.

"What are you doing?" Aiah's voice was quiet, but firm, a thinly veiled warning beneath the fatigue.

Jhoanna ignored the question. "We need to talk."

She crossed the room in quick strides, her heart pounding against her ribs. There was no time for hesitation, no space for caution. The weight of what she'd just discovered pressed down on her like a vice.

"I know what SIGMA's planning," Jhoanna said, her voice low but urgent. 

"I saw the files, Aiah. Project Eradication. They're not just hunting enhanced—they're executing them."

Aiah's expression didn't change. "You shouldn't have been snooping around."

Jhoanna's blood ran hot. 

"Did you hear me? They're going to kill us. You, me—every single one like us they get their hands on." She swallowed, forcing down the lump in her throat. 

"You're on the list, Aiah."

That got a reaction.

A flicker of something passed through Aiah's gaze. It was brief—uncertainty, disbelief, fear—but it was gone before Jhoanna could name it. 

Aiah exhaled slowly, shaking her head as if trying to will away the weight of Jhoanna's words.

"That doesn't make sense." Aiah's voice was measured, too measured. 

"SIGMA's mission is to maintain order. To control the chaos. Not—" She stopped herself, jaw tightening. "Not that."

Jhoanna stared at her in disbelief. "Are you even hearing yourself?" Her hands curled into fists. 

"I saw the files with my own eyes. General Dela Cruz signed the directive himself."

Aiah stiffened, her breath hitching just slightly. "My father wouldn’t—"

"He would. He did." Jhoanna’s voice was raw. 

"Wake up, Aiah! Whatever bullshit they’ve been feeding you, whatever lies you’ve been telling yourself—this is the truth. They don’t care about order. They care about wiping us out."

Aiah stood abruptly, stepping back like she needed space. Like she needed air. 

Jhoanna saw the way her hands curled at her sides, how the tension coiled so tightly in her posture she looked like she might snap. 

But when Aiah finally spoke, her voice was steady.

Too steady.

"You're wrong."

Jhoanna flinched, something dangerously close to hurt flaring inside her. "Aiah—"

"I have to believe in this," Aiah cut in, eyes flashing. 

"There’s a system. A reason for all of this. SIGMA isn’t perfect, but it’s better than letting the world fall apart."

Jhoanna’s heart pounded. "Even if it means killing people like us?"

Silence.

Aiah didn’t look away, but Jhoanna saw it—the way her shoulders stiffened, the way her throat bobbed as she swallowed. 

Doubt. 

Jhoanna seized it, stepped closer, lowering her voice. 

"Come with me."

Aiah’s breath hitched.

"I can get us out," Jhoanna urged, her voice rough with desperation. 

"We leave, disappear—before they come for us. Before it’s too late."

For a moment, Aiah looked at her, lips parted, hesitation flickering across her face like a flame fighting against the wind. 

For a moment, Jhoanna thought she’d say yes. 

That she’d run with her.

But then—

Aiah stepped back.

Jhoanna’s stomach dropped.

Aiah’s eyes hardened, the walls slamming back into place. "No."

Jhoanna let out a sharp breath, biting back the urge to shake her. 

To demand why she was choosing this place—choosing him—over herself.

Over them.

"Fine," Jhoanna said, voice rough with frustration. She turned toward the door, hands trembling at her sides. 

"But don’t expect me to stand here and watch you get yourself killed."

She didn’t wait for a response.

Didn’t dare look back.

Because if she did, she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to walk away.

Jhoanna’s steps were quick, measured, but her pulse was anything but steady. The walls of SIGMA headquarters felt tighter now, colder, like they were closing in. 

Every step away from Aiah’s room burned, frustration twisting deep in her gut.

She’s not coming.

The thought sliced through her like a blade, but she shoved it down. She didn’t have time to dwell on the ache of it—not now, not here. 

She needed to get out before someone realized she’d been somewhere she shouldn’t.

She turned the corner sharply—and froze.

Three SIGMA officers stood at the end of the hall, blocking her path. Their uniforms were pristine, their expressions unreadable, but the tension in their stance was unmistakable. 

Jhoanna had seen enough enforcers to recognize when someone was ready for a fight.

Her muscles coiled instinctively, already calculating the quickest way out.

One of the officers stepped forward, a lieutenant by the insignia on his chest. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Jhoanna forced a smirk, tilting her head. “Yeah? The girl’s room is down the hall, right?”

No one looked amused. Another officer’s hand drifted toward their holster.

“Step aside,” the lieutenant ordered, voice cool. 

“We have orders to escort you.”

Her heart pounded, but she kept her expression loose, unreadable. “Orders from who?”

The lieutenant’s gaze didn’t waver. “General Dela Cruz.”

A chill ran down her spine. So he knew.

She had seconds. Maybe less.

Jhoanna moved first.

She ducked low, launching forward before they could react. Her shoulder slammed into the nearest officer’s ribs, sending them stumbling. 

The second one barely had time to draw his weapon before she twisted his wrist, forcing the gun from his grip and smashing the butt of it against his temple. He crumpled before he could even shout.

The third officer wasn’t as slow.

A baton crackled to life, electricity arcing as he swung. Jhoanna barely dodged in time, feeling the static charge hum past her skin. 

She retaliated with a sharp kick to his knee, throwing him off balance. Before he could recover, she grabbed the fallen gun and fired at the lights above. 

Glass shattered, plunging the corridor into flickering darkness.

Shouts erupted behind her as she ran.

Jhoanna’s body burned, her injury screaming in protest, but she forced herself forward. 

Down another hall. A sharp turn. 

Find an exit.

An alarm blared, red lights flashing as SIGMA mobilized. She could hear the rapid footsteps behind her, voices barking orders.

Think. Move. Escape.

Jhoanna skidded around a corner, nearly colliding with a locked door. A secured access panel blinks red beside it.

“Shit.”

She spun just as the lieutenant rounded the corner, baton in hand, eyes blazing.

“No more running,” he growled.

Jhoanna exhaled sharply, rolling her shoulders. “Funny. I was about to say the same thing.”

Then she lunged.

Jhoanna barely had time to catch her breath before the blaring alarms sent a fresh surge of urgency through her veins. 

Red warning lights pulsed overhead, casting jagged shadows along the sterile walls. 

The whole headquarters felt alive now, a beast stirring from its slumber, locking its jaws around her.

She had taken down the first wave of guards, but more were coming—she could hear them. The rhythmic stomp of boots, the clipped, urgent voices barking orders. 

Cut off every exit. Secure the lower levels. Do not let her escape.

Her lungs burned, her side throbbed, but she shoved the pain aside. Stopping wasn’t an option. 

She pressed a hand against the fresh warmth of blood seeping through her jacket, biting back a curse. 

The wound from earlier was splitting open again, but she didn’t have time to check the damage.

Her mind raced through her options. No clear path. No safe way out. 

Think. Move. Survive.

She ripped the communicator from her jacket and clicked to an open channel.

“Gwen,” she gasped. 

“Gwen, do you copy?”

Static. Then a sharp, familiar voice cut through. 

“Jho? What the hell are you doing? You were supposed to keep a low profile!”

Jhoanna flattened herself against the cold metal wall of a side corridor, forcing down the desperate breath clawing at her throat. 

“No time—” She ducked as a group of officers stormed past the adjacent hall. 

“I found something. It’s bad. They’re onto me.”

A sharp curse crackled through the line. Then Gwen’s voice, lower now, but thick with urgency. 

“Jho, listen to me. You fell for it.”

Her pulse skipped. “What—?”

“It’s a trap.”

The words settled like ice in her chest.

“I was monitoring the feed,” Gwen continued, voice tight with frustration and something dangerously close to fear. 

“They wanted you to find those files.”

Jhoanna’s breath stalled. Her fingers curled tight around the communicator. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying get the hell out of there—now. I’m already on my way.”

Jhoanna’s stomach twisted. Had they been watching her this whole time? Had she played right into their hands?

And Aiah—

She shoved the thought away. She couldn’t afford doubt. 

Not now.

A distant voice barked a command. Then—

There. Movement.

Jhoanna turned, her heart leaping to her throat as another squad of officers rounded the far end of the corridor, rifles raised.

No time.

She bolted.

The moment Jhoanna burst into motion, the SIGMA officers reacted like a well-oiled machine.

Bang.

The first shot rang out, followed by a hail of bullets tearing through the corridor. Sparks flew as metal walls caught the impact, the sharp tang of burning material filling the air. 

Jhoanna moved on instinct—ducking, weaving, her body a blur as she twisted around the deadly barrage.

Too slow, and she’d be dead.

Pain flared in her side, but she shoved it down. 

Ignore it. Move.

An officer lunged at her from the left, a stun baton humming with electricity as it swung toward her ribs. Jhoanna sidestepped, twisting mid-stride. 

Too predictable. Too slow. 

She drove her knee into his stomach, knocking the wind from his lungs before slamming her elbow down between his shoulder blades. He crumpled against the wall.

Another set of heavy boots pounded toward her—right side, fast. She barely had time to react before a baton swung toward her head.

She caught the officer’s wrist, fingers clamping down like a vice.

A sharp twist—pop. 

The sickening crack of bone filled the air, followed by a scream. Jhoanna didn’t hesitate. 

She yanked him forward and used his own weight to send him crashing onto the floor.

Two down. Too many left.

The corridor was narrowing, and more were coming. Jhoanna’s breath came fast, pulse thundering. 

She needed an exit. Now.

She sprinted forward, ignoring the fire burning in her lungs, ignoring the blood dampening her side. 

Her communicator crackled to life in her ear, Gwen’s voice spilling through, but the chaos behind her drowned out the words.

Then—

There.

At the far end of the hallway, an emergency hatch.

Jhoanna pushed harder, legs burning as she closed the distance. Almost there.

She reached the panel and slammed her fist against it.

Locked.

“Of course it is,” she muttered under her breath.

The officers were nearly on her.

No time.

She took a step back, gritted her teeth, then launched forward, driving her boot into the panel with every ounce of force she had left.

Crack.

The metal groaned in protest. For a second, nothing happened—then the lock gave way with a sharp hiss. 

The hatch door slid open.

She dove through, landing hard against the grated floor of a maintenance tunnel. Her hands scraped against the rough metal, but she didn’t stop. She scrambled forward, hitting the communicator again.

“Gwen,” she panted. “Tell me you’re close.”

A beat of silence. Then—

“Look up.”

Jhoanna’s head snapped upward just as a vent panel above her was yanked open. Gwen’s face appeared, grinning despite the breathless urgency in her voice.

“You’re lucky I love you, you reckless idiot,” she said. 

“Now, climb!”

+

Jhoanna barely had time to breathe before she was on the move again. Gwen pulled her up into the ventilation shaft just as another round of bullets rattled against the metal below. 

The two of them scrambled through the narrow space, breathless and sweating, but alive.

For now.

They didn’t stop until they were far enough from the firefight, somewhere in the maze of SIGMA’s underground pathways. 

Only then did Gwen let out a sharp breath, gripping Jhoanna’s shoulder.

“That was too close,” Gwen muttered. 

“We need to get the hell out of here before—”

A blaring alarm cut through the air.

Jhoanna’s stomach dropped. They were escalating the lockdown.

Meanwhile, in the upper levels of the headquarters, General Elias Dela Cruz’s office was eerily silent despite the chaos echoing through the halls. 

Aiah stood in front of her father’s desk, spine stiff, hands clenched at her sides.

“You ordered the lockdown,” she said, voice carefully neutral. 

“Is it about Jhoanna?”

General Dela Cruz didn’t answer right away. He sat behind his desk, fingers steepled, eyes sharp as they met his daughter’s. 

“She’s more dangerous than we thought,” he finally said. “We can’t let her escape again.”

Aiah swallowed. “You’re ordering her capture.”

“Yes.”

A lump formed in her throat. She forced herself to stay calm. “Permanently?”

His gaze hardened. “Yes.”

Aiah fought to keep her expression blank, but her chest felt tight. Permanently. 

It didn’t take a genius to understand what that meant.

For a long moment, she hesitated. Then, carefully, she asked, “Does this have anything to do with what she said earlier? About Project Eradication?”

The air in the room shifted.

General Dela Cruz’s face remained unreadable, but there was something in the way his fingers tensed against his desk. 

“Where did she hear that?”

“She said she saw the files,” Aiah pressed. 

“She said it’s not just about controlling enhanced individuals—it’s about eliminating them.”

Her father leaned back in his chair, expression cold. “That’s a lie.”

Aiah inhaled sharply. “Is it?”

“I would know if SIGMA had plans like that.” His voice was steady, firm. 

“And I would never approve of something so extreme.”

But doubt curled in Aiah’s stomach.

Jhoanna had sounded so sure. The desperation in her voice hadn’t been fake. 

And yet, her father—the man she had always trusted, the man who had raised her to believe in order and control—was telling her it wasn’t real.

She wanted to believe him. She needed to believe him.

But the question refused to leave her mind.

What if Jhoanna was telling the truth?

Aiah’s nails dug into her palms as she watched her father, waiting for something—anything—that would make sense of all this. 

But General Dela Cruz remained impassive, unreadable as ever, like he was already ten steps ahead of the conversation.

She forced her voice to stay calm, though the weight in her chest was suffocating. “Is that why you invited us to spend a night here?”

His gaze sharpened, the barest flicker of something in his eyes—surprise? Disappointment? Aiah couldn’t tell.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said smoothly. 

“You need the shelter to spend a night, I simply offered the headquarters since it’s near.”

Aiah didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

She wasn’t stupid. 

Her voice was quieter now, measured. “If she was lying, why would she risk her life to escape? Why would she fight so hard to convince me? If she was lying, why are you ordering a full lockdown on this headquarters?”

“She’s a criminal, Aiah.” His tone was patient, like he was explaining something simple. 

“The resistance thrives on chaos. They’ll say anything to turn people against order. Against us.”

Aiah’s stomach churned. That word—criminal. 

He spoke it with such certainty, as if Jhoanna was nothing more than another name on SIGMA’s wanted list.

But she wasn’t. She never had been.

Jhoanna wasn’t just some reckless insurgent. 

She wasn’t a liar. 

She had looked Aiah in the eye, her voice shaking with frustration and something painfully close to desperation. 

She had told Aiah that her father—this man sitting in front of her now, calm and controlled as ever—had signed a directive ordering the execution of enhanced individuals.

And Aiah had told her she was wrong.

Had she been?

A horrible thought wormed its way into her mind.

What if Jhoanna wasn’t the one being lied to?

“I need you to focus,” General Dela Cruz said, drawing her back. His voice was firm now, edged with authority. 

“We can’t allow her to escape again. Not after tonight.”

Aiah stared at him, throat tight. “You’re ordering me to capture her.”

“I’m trusting you to do what’s right.”

Right.

Aiah’s fingers twitched at her sides. 

For the first time in her life, she wasn’t sure if she knew what that meant.

+

Aiah’s thoughts churned as she followed the trail SIGMA had traced—security footage, motion sensors, heat signatures. 

Jhoanna was fast, but she was bleeding, and even she couldn't outrun technology forever.

Her father’s words still echoed in her head. 

We can’t allow her to escape again.

She shouldn’t be hesitating. She shouldn’t be thinking about the way Jhoanna had looked at her, voice raw, eyes pleading.

But she was.

She gritted her teeth, pushing the doubt down as she adjusted her earpiece. “Report.”

A SIGMA operative’s voice crackled through. “Target last sighted near the maintenance sector. We have units moving to intercept.”

Aiah exhaled. She’s close.

She moved swiftly through the dim corridors, rifle at the ready. 

SIGMA’s headquarters had gone into lockdown, but Jhoanna was resourceful—she always found gaps, weak spots. 

If Aiah was going to catch her, she had to think like her.

She turned a corner—and froze.

Someone was already there. Not Jhoanna.

A group stood in the hall, their presence sending immediate alarm bells through Aiah’s mind.

Aiah’s breath hitched the moment she registered the figures standing in the corridor ahead of her.

Itim na Bagwis.

She knew them by reputation—one of the most elusive and dangerous resistance groups operating in the shadows. 

Unlike Alon, who focused on smuggling enhanced individuals out of SIGMA’s grasp, Itim na Bagwis fought back—hard. 

Assassinations, sabotage, direct assaults on SIGMA facilities. They were a wildfire, impossible to contain, and the last thing Aiah needed right now was to get caught in their flames.

The leader, a broad-shouldered man with cybernetic enhancements running along his forearms, stepped forward, scanning her with sharp, calculating eyes. 

His presence alone sent a jolt of tension through her. This wasn’t just a scouting squad. This was a hunt.

“Looks like we’re after the same girl,” he said, his voice smooth but edged with quiet menace.

Aiah’s fingers flexed around the grip of her rifle. Her instincts screamed at her to act, but she held her ground. 

“Jhoanna’s under SIGMA jurisdiction,” she said evenly. “She’s not yours to take.”

The man scoffed, tilting his head. “Jurisdiction? Cute. But we both know SIGMA doesn’t want to capture her.” 

His gaze sharpened. “They want her erased.”

Aiah forced her expression to remain neutral, even as unease curled in her gut. 

Paano nila nalaman? Saan?

Project Eradication. 

The words she refused to believe. The words Jhoanna had spat at her like a final plea before running.

Her father had denied it. He looked her in the eye and told her that SIGMA’s purpose was order, not extermination.

But what if he had lied?

The Itim na Bagwis leader took another step forward. “Move aside, little soldier,” he said. 

“You’re standing between us and our mission.”

Aiah lifted her rifle, stance firm. She didn’t believe in chaos. She believed in order. 

But right now, she wasn’t sure where Jhoanna belonged in that equation.

She exhaled, steadying herself. “If you want her,” she said, voice cool, controlled—determined, “You’ll have to go through me.”

The man grinned. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Jhoanna’s lungs burned as she sprinted through the winding maintenance tunnels, Gwen’s footsteps pounding behind her. 

Blood dripped steadily from her side, but she barely registered the pain. Adrenaline had taken over.

Gwen’s voice was sharp, urgent. “We’ve got a problem.”

Jhoanna didn’t slow. “Yeah, no kidding.”

“No, I mean a bigger problem,” Gwen snapped. 

“SIGMA’s still on our tails, but they’re not alone. Itim na Bagwis is in the building.”

Jhoanna’s heart nearly stopped. 

Itim na Bagwis? Here?

That changed everything.

SIGMA wanted her dead. Itim na Bagwis? 

They wanted her recruited.

Or worse—claimed.

Jhoanna had heard the stories. Unlike Alon, they didn’t just rescue enhanced individuals—they controlled them. 

Fought with them. Used them. 

And those who didn’t fall in line? They disappeared.

She gritted her teeth. “Shit.”

Gwen’s voice dropped lower, serious. “Jho, I know you think you can outrun everyone, but this is bad. We have to get the hell out—now.”

Jhoanna’s mind raced. There was no way SIGMA and Itim na Bagwis were working together. 

If they were both after her, that meant the two factions would be at odds.

That’s a distraction. An opening. A way out.

She rounded another corner, catching sight of a rusted-out access hatch above them. She skidded to a stop, turning to Gwen. 

“Boost me up.”

Gwen cursed under her breath but didn’t hesitate. She crouched, hands locked together. “This better not be a terrible plan.”

“It’s a great plan,” Jhoanna said, stepping into Gwen’s grip. “Just trust me.”

With a grunt, Gwen launched her up. Jhoanna caught the ledge, muscles screaming as she hauled herself up into the narrow vent system.

Gwen followed a second later, scrambling in just as distant shouts echoed behind them.

Jhoanna’s pulse hammered. SIGMA was closing in.

And so was Itim na Bagwis.

+

Jhoanna kept her breath steady, ignoring the sharp sting of her wound as she adjusted her position against the vent’s interior. 

The scent of scorched metal and gunpowder thickened the air, mixing with the distant tang of ozone from the plasma weapons clashing below.

Through the narrow slats, she watched the chaos unfold beneath her. 

It was brutal, relentless.

A SIGMA officer lunged at one of the resistance fighters, baton crackling with electric charge. 

Before he could strike, a man with cybernetic enhancements intercepted him, catching the baton with an iron grip and twisting—bone snapped, a scream followed.

On the other side of the corridor, a resistance fighter wielding dual knives darted through SIGMA’s formation like a ghost, slicing through armor with deadly precision. 

But SIGMA wasn’t just brute force—they adapted.

A cluster of agents shifted tactics, moving in sync. One tossed a flashbang—a blinding burst of white exploded through the hall. 

The knife-wielding fighter faltered, just for a second. A second too long.

SIGMA struck hard, batons colliding against ribs, sending the fighter to the ground with a strangled gasp.

Jhoanna’s jaw clenched.

Then she saw her.

Aiah.

Standing in the thick of it all, rifle steady, her every movement sharp and calculated. 

She wasn’t hesitating. Wasn’t holding back. 

Every shot she fired found its mark. Every strike was deliberate.

Jhoanna felt it again—that tightening in her chest.

So she was really doing this.

Gwen shifted beside her, her fingers tapping against the earpiece as she took in the absolute wreckage below. 

When she spoke, her voice carried a familiar note of exasperation.

“Okay, not gonna lie—this was not on my bingo card for today.”

Jhoanna exhaled through her nose, biting back a grin. “You mean watching SIGMA and Itim na Bagwis beat the shit out of each other over me?”

Gwen shot her a glare. “You’re way too smug for someone actively bleeding out.”

Jhoanna smirked, wincing as she adjusted her weight. Pain flared in her ribs, but she ignored it. 

“Let me have this moment.”

Gwen huffed, shifting to peer through the vent herself. A spark of tension flickered in her expression.

“Yeah, well, enjoy it while you can, speedster,” she muttered. 

“Because the moment they realize you’re not down there, they’re gonna start looking up.”

Jhoanna took a slow breath, pressing a hand against her wound. She couldn’t afford to slow down. Not now.

“Then we better move before they do.”

The distant echo of heavy boots pounded against the floors below—reinforcements. 

SIGMA was regaining control of the fight.

Jhoanna flicked one last glance down at Aiah, who had just reloaded her rifle, gaze sharp as she surveyed the battlefield.

That tightening in her chest returned.

Then she turned away, pushing forward.

Whatever this was—whatever this meant—it didn’t matter.

Not if she didn’t make it out alive.

Below them, the battle raged on, but the outcome was becoming painfully clear.

SIGMA was winning.

The resistance fighters of Itim na Bagwis fought fiercely, but SIGMA’s forces moved like a well-oiled machine—precise, brutal, and relentless. It wasn’t a fair fight. It never was.

A man with enhanced reflexes dodged a SIGMA agent’s baton, twisting mid-air to counter—but the moment he landed, another agent was already there, jamming a shock stick into his ribs. 

Electricity surged through his body, and he collapsed with a strangled cry.

A woman wielding twin plasma daggers carved through a line of SIGMA soldiers, her movements a blur—until a sniper’s shot rang out, striking her square in the shoulder. 

She staggered, and before she could recover, a boot connected with her chest, slamming her into the wall.

One by one, Itim na Bagwis fell.

A sickening crunch echoed through the corridor as a high-ranking SIGMA commander grabbed a resistance fighter by the hair and slammed his head against the floor. 

Once. Twice. The body went limp.

Jhoanna swallowed hard.

This was bad.

Gwen cursed beside her. “Tangina, ‘di ‘to okay. We need to go. Now.”

Jhoanna didn’t argue. Not this time.

Gwen grabbed her arm, dragging her deeper into the vents. The metal groaned under their weight, but it held as they crawled through the narrow passage, inching toward their exit point.

Jhoanna could see it now—a small service hatch leading outside. 

Fresh air. Freedom.

They almost made it.

Almost.

Then, out of nowhere, a hand shot through the vent’s opening, gripping Jhoanna’s wrist in an iron hold.

Before she could react, she was yanked down.

Her body slammed onto the cold floor with a force that rattled her bones. 

Pain exploded through her side, but she barely had time to process it before the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking cut through the ringing in her ears.

Gwen’s frantic voice echoed from above. “Jho—!”

But Jhoanna already knew.

She knew who it was before she even looked up.

Aiah stood over her, gun raised, eyes dark and unreadable.

The fight was over. But this?

This was personal.

Jhoanna groaned, rolling onto her back, breath shallow. She could already feel the blood soaking through her shirt.

“Oh, great,” she muttered, blinking up at Aiah through half-lidded eyes. 

“Just you? What, SIGMA is too scared to face me without their golden girl leading the way?”

Aiah didn’t react. Not to the taunt. Not to the smirk. 

But Jhoanna saw the way her fingers curled just a little tighter around the trigger. The tension in her stance.

This wasn’t easy for her.

But it didn’t mean she wouldn’t do it.

“I can’t let you leave,” Aiah finally said, voice steady. 

Too steady.

Jhoanna exhaled a sharp laugh. “And here I thought you weren’t a fan of following orders blindly.”

From above, Gwen shifted, ready to jump down—ready to fight.

But Jhoanna raised a hand, stopping her.

This wasn’t Gwen’s fight.

This was hers.

Slowly, she pushed herself up, swaying slightly. 

The room tilted, her vision blurred at the edges, but she stayed on her feet.

“What now, Aiah?” she asked, tilting her head, voice edged with something sharper. 

Anger. Resignation. A challenge.

“Gonna take me in yourself?” She took a slow step forward. 

“Or are you still pretending SIGMA isn’t planning to wipe us out?”

Aiah didn’t flinch. Didn’t move.

But Jhoanna saw it.

The hesitation.

The crack in the perfect soldier mask.

Jhoanna took another step, lowering her voice. “You saw what they did back there. That wasn’t control. That was a slaughter.”

A muscle ticked in Aiah’s jaw.

Jhoanna could push. She knew it.

But the question was—

Would Aiah break?

Aiah struck first.

Her fist connected with Jhoanna’s jaw in a sharp, brutal arc, sending a jolt of pain straight through her skull. 

Jhoanna barely had time to brace before Aiah grabbed the front of her shirt and slammed her against the cold metal wall.

Hard.

Jhoanna let out a choked laugh, her head spinning. 

“Damn,” she coughed, licking the blood from her lip as she blinked through the stars in her vision. “That mad at me, huh?”

Aiah didn’t respond—she just pulled back and drove her knee toward Jhoanna’s ribs. 

Jhoanna twisted at the last second, but not fast enough. The impact sent fire through her wounded side, her body screaming in protest.

But she didn’t falter.

She retaliated.

Jhoanna caught Aiah’s wrist, twisting her momentum against her. 

In a flash, she flipped them—slamming Aiah against the same wall. Aiah grunted, her breath leaving her in a sharp exhale.

And suddenly, they were too close.

Jhoanna could feel Aiah’s breath against her lips, warm and uneven, their bodies flush against each other. 

For a second, just a second, Jhoanna hesitated.

A second too long.

Aiah shoved forward, sending them into a messy grapple. 

They weren’t just fighting. 

They were tearing into each other.

Rage. Hurt. 

The weight of everything unsaid.

Jhoanna’s back hit the floor, her breath knocking out of her lungs in a gasp. 

Aiah straddled her, thighs pressing against Jhoanna’s hips, hands locking around her wrists and pinning them above her head.

Jhoanna struggled, twisting beneath her, but Aiah didn’t let go.

Didn’t move.

She just stared.

Jhoanna saw it then—the conflict in Aiah’s eyes, the war she was fighting within herself. 

Duty and something else. 

Something dangerous.

Aiah swallowed. “You should’ve just run,” she muttered, voice hoarse.

Jhoanna smirked, panting for air. “Yeah, well…” She licked her lips, searching Aiah’s face. 

“I guess I’m tired of running.”

Aiah hesitated.

And that was all Jhoanna needed.

She twisted beneath her, shifting her weight, and suddenly—they flipped.

Jhoanna straddled Aiah now, her hands pressing against Aiah’s shoulders, holding her down. Their positions reversed.

The breathless silence between them stretched—heavy, unrelenting.

Too close again.

Jhoanna could feel the rapid beat of Aiah’s pulse beneath her fingertips. The warmth of her skin. The way her chest rose and fell, uneven.

Her fingers twitched. She should move.

Should throw another punch.

Should run.

But she didn’t.

And neither did Aiah.

Instead—Aiah’s hands found her waist.

Not to push her off.

Not yet.

Jhoanna’s breath hitched.

Aiah’s fingers flexed against her waist, tightening, uncertain.

“What are you waiting for?” Jhoanna murmured, her voice low, daring her. 

End this.

Aiah’s grip tightened—but she didn’t strike.

Didn’t push.

Didn’t move.

Jhoanna leaned in. Just slightly. 

Just enough to make Aiah’s breath stutter.

She wanted to see how far she could push before Aiah shattered completely.

“Do it,” she whispered, eyes locked onto hers. 

"Or let me go."

Aiah’s fingers twitched.

Then—she let go.

Jhoanna’s heart slammed against her ribs.

This wasn’t victory. 

This was something else.

That something dangerous.

Something she didn’t have time to understand.

Because Gwen’s voice crackled through her earpiece.

“Jho! More SIGMA incoming. You need to move!”

Jhoanna didn’t break eye contact.

Neither did Aiah.

A silent war passed between them.

Then—Jhoanna pulled away.

And Aiah let her.

Aiah stared at the empty space where Jhoanna had been just seconds ago, her pulse still hammering against her ribs.

The weight of her own decision pressed against her chest, heavy and suffocating. 

Every instinct, every piece of training drilled into her since she was a child told her that she should’ve finished it. 

She should’ve stopped Jhoanna, should’ve turned her in, should’ve done something.

But she didn’t.

And now, she had to lie for it.

Footsteps thundered down the corridor, sharp and synchronized—the unmistakable march of SIGMA reinforcements. 

The distant crackle of their radios echoed through the walls, voices barking orders as they closed in.

Aiah forced herself to move. Breathe. Control. Mask it.

She squared her shoulders, pushing away the whirlwind in her chest, the memory of Jhoanna’s breath warm against her skin, the way her fingers had curled against her waist—No. Focus.

By the time the first officer reached her, rifle raised, she was back to being Agent Dela Cruz—rigid, composed, unreadable.

“Agent! Have you located the target?” the officer demanded, his voice clipped and urgent.

Aiah clenched her fists.

The words stuck in her throat for half a second too long.

Say it.

“They got away,” she said finally, voice sharp, measured. 

“Jhoanna and her ally. I lost visual—probably escaped through the ventilation system.”

The officer cursed under his breath before pressing a finger to his earpiece. 

“All units, the target is still at large. Sweep the perimeter. We need them alive.”

The words barely registered.

Aiah could still feel the phantom weight of Jhoanna’s body against hers, the way her eyes had burned with something almost daring when she whispered, Do it. Or let me go.

She had let her go.

A mistake. A betrayal. A choice.

Aiah exhaled slowly, keeping her posture rigid as she nodded. “Understood.”

She turned before anyone could see the war raging behind her eyes.

She had chosen.

Now, she had to live with it.

+

The command room was nearly empty at this hour. The steady hum of servers and the faint flicker of security monitors were the only things keeping her company. 

The overhead lights had dimmed to a low glow, casting long, eerie shadows across the steel walls.

Aiah sat rigid in front of the terminal, fingers hovering over the keyboard. This was treason.

SIGMA had protocols. Every classified file was monitored. If she got caught, she wouldn’t get a slap on the wrist—she’d disappear.

And yet, she typed.

Her fingers moved with practiced ease, bypassing standard firewalls and security encryptions. She had spent years inside SIGMA’s system, learning its architecture, its weaknesses. 

Every agent was trained in digital warfare—but not every agent was trained by Elias Dela Cruz.

For the first time, she used everything he had taught her against him.

A few keystrokes later, a secured directory popped onto the screen. 

PROJECT ERADICATION sat at the top of the list, locked behind multiple layers of security.

She entered her clearance code. Access Denied.

Of course. Even as his daughter, she wasn’t trusted with this level of information.

But she had anticipated that.

With a deep breath, Aiah inserted a decryption drive she had lifted from the intelligence division. 

It worked instantly, breaking through SIGMA’s defenses line by line. The screen flickered once, then the file opened.

Her stomach twisted at the first thing she saw.

PROJECT ERADICATION

CLASSIFIED: LEVEL 5 CLEARANCE
DIRECTIVE:
PHASE 1: IDENTIFICATION – Ongoing surveillance of all powered individuals, active and dormant.
PHASE 2: CONTAINMENT – Capture and relocate subjects to designated SIGMA holding facilities.
PHASE 3: ERADICATION – Systematic elimination of all powered individuals to neutralize future threats.

This was what Jhoanna had tried to tell her. SIGMA never wanted peace. 

They wanted eradication. They wanted annihilation.

And Aiah had spent her entire life helping them do it.

Her breaths came shallow, shaking. The walls around her felt smaller, pressing in.

For years, she had fought for SIGMA, killed for SIGMA, and trusted SIGMA.

For years, she had fought against people like Jhoanna.

And now?

Now she knows.

A bitter laugh clawed its way up her throat. They had turned her into a weapon. And she had let them.

Her fingers curled into fists.

Her stomach churned, but she forced herself to keep looking. 

She had to see everything.

She clicked on a secured database titled PRIORITY TARGETS. 

Her pulse pounded as a list of names filled the screen, categorized by threat level.

PRIMARY TERMINATION LIST
SUBJECT STATUS: ACTIVE PURSUIT

She skimmed down the list, recognizing names from wanted posters, from past SIGMA raids—rebels, escapees, rogue powered individuals who had openly fought back.

And then, her breath stopped.

Her own name was there.

SUBJECT: AIAH DELA CRUZ

THREAT LEVEL: HIGH
STATUS: UNDER OBSERVATION
DIRECTIVE:
Monitor for signs of deviation. If loyalty is compromised, proceed with neutralization.
AUTHORIZATION: GENERAL DELA CRUZ

Her vision blurred.

The weight of it crushed her.

SIGMA had her under surveillance. Her own father had signed off on it.

Aiah let out a slow, unsteady breath, trying to fight the nausea clawing up her throat. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms.

SIGMA wasn’t just watching her.

They were waiting.

Waiting for her to make one wrong move. To hesitate. To question.

And then—they would kill her.

Her father would let them.

A quiet, bitter laugh escaped her lips before she could stop it.

Of course.

Of course, they never trusted her. 

Of course, she was just another weapon to them—valuable only as long as she obeyed.

A part of her had always wanted to believe she was different. That being Elias Dela Cruz’s daughter meant she was protected.

But this?

This was proof that she was disposable.

Her hands trembled as she backed out of the file, erasing her traces. 

She couldn’t stay here.

Not in SIGMA.

Not under their control.

Not when she was already living on borrowed time.

And as she turned off the monitor, heart pounding, she knew one thing for certain.

She wasn’t going to wait for them to kill her.

She was going to bring them down first.

She needed to get out of here.

Aiah yanked the decryption drive from the console, erasing her digital footprints as quickly as she could. If SIGMA suspected she had seen this, they would come for her next.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway.

She stiffened, forcing her expression neutral. 

Breathe. Don’t let them see.

The door hissed open. A security officer stepped in, nodding. “Agent Dela Cruz. The General is requesting you for debriefing.”

Aiah swallowed the bile in her throat and nodded stiffly. 

Like hell she was going to debrief.

She straightened, tucking the drive into her pocket.

If she wanted to survive this—if she wanted to do something about it—she had to move fast.

And for the first time in her life, Aiah knew exactly what she had to do.

Because she wasn’t on SIGMA’s side anymore.

She was on hers.

The alarm wailed through the facility, drowning out Aiah’s pounding footsteps. 

Red warning lights flashed along the sleek metal walls, casting jagged shadows as she sprinted down the corridor. 

No hesitation. No second chances.

Electricity buzzed under her skin, coiling tight, itching for release.

She needed to move.

Her breath came in sharp, controlled exhales as she reloaded her rifle, scanning for the fastest exit route. SIGMA was trained for efficiency—every hall, every doorway was designed to funnel intruders straight into a trap.

Except she wasn’t an intruder. She was one of them.

Or she had been.

A harsh static buzzed in her earpiece before a voice cut through. 

"This is SIGMA Command—Aiah Dela Cruz is compromised. All units engage on sight. Lethal force authorized."

Her fingers curled around her weapon.

Lethal force.

She had heard those words before—issued them herself. 

They had always been orders meant for someone else. Some nameless, faceless threat. Never her. 

Never her.

The realization hit like a punch to the gut. She was officially dead to them.

Her father had made that call.

Another door ahead—automatic, reinforced steel. Sealed.

Aiah skidded to a stop, fingers flying over the panel. Access Denied.

Damn it.

A second later, she felt the shift in the air—she wasn’t alone.

Her grip tightened around her rifle just as a bootstep crunched behind her. She spun, bringing the weapon up, but they were faster.

A baton crackled with electricity as it swung toward her. She barely ducked in time. The weapon skimmed past her temple, static snapping at her skin.

Her attacker lunged again—SIGMA officer, full armor, visor down.

Aiah moved on instinct, raising her hand—a crackling arc of electricity surged from her fingertips. 

It struck the officer’s chest plate, sending him convulsing before he collapsed, smoke curling from his suit.

One down. Too many left to go.

She turned—just as another officer fired.

She threw up her hand, a reflex—the bullet never reached her. 

The moment it hit the electric field around her palm, it stopped midair before dropping harmlessly to the ground.

The officer hesitated, just for a second. That was all she needed.

Lightning surged up her arm, bright and crackling. She clenched her fist and sent a pulse of energy crashing into his chest. 

The force threw him across the corridor, slamming him into the wall.

No time to think.

Aiah exhaled, fingers trembling slightly from the surge of power. 

No time to process. No time to hesitate.

She forced herself forward, heart pounding as she activated a manual override on the locked door. The panel flickered, denied her once, twice—then hissed open.

Freedom.

But before she could take a step—

“Hold your fire!”

Aiah froze.

More boots. More voices. More rifles pointed at her.

They were waiting.

Her father stepped through the line of officers. General Elias Dela Cruz. 

His uniform was crisp, his expression unreadable, but his eyes—his eyes held none of the warmth she had once known.

“Aiah.” His voice was steady. Controlled. “Stand down.”

She met his gaze.

Her hands ached from gripping her weapon too tightly. Her muscles screamed from exertion. But nothing hurt more than this.

She had spent her entire life proving herself to him. Following his orders. Carrying out SIGMA’s will because she had believed—truly believed—that they were protecting the world.

And now, he had condemned her without hesitation.

Her voice was hoarse. “You knew.”

Elias’ expression didn’t change.

“You knew what they were doing. You let it happen.” Her breath shook, but she kept her stance firm. 

“How many have you killed, Dad? How many surrendered, thinking they’d be safe?”

His jaw tightened. “This isn’t personal, Aiah.”

A hollow laugh escaped her lips. “Not personal?” Her grip steadied on her rifle. 

“You just signed your own daughter’s death warrant.”

Elias took a step closer, ignoring the rifles trained on her. “You don’t understand what you’re doing. Surrender, and I’ll—”

She didn’t let him finish.

Her fingers twitched, electricity snapping between them, raw and unstable. 

The air hummed with the charge building inside her. The SIGMA officers hesitated, shifting their stances.

They had trained her. They knew exactly what she was capable of.

She raised her hand—and let go.

A blinding surge of electricity exploded outward. 

The emergency lights shattered, plunging the hall into flickering darkness. 

Sparks rained down as energy crackled through the walls, frying the control panels.

Chaos.

Aiah didn’t wait—she ran.

She had one last option.

And she knew exactly where she had to go.

Aiah’s breath burned in her lungs as she tore down the corridor, electricity crackling at her fingertips. 

The emergency sirens wailed through the facility, drowning out everything but the pounding of her heartbeat.

Her rifle was gone—ripped from her hands in the chaos. It didn’t matter. 

She didn’t need it.

They came at her in waves.

The first officer lunged, baton sparking as he swung for her ribs. 

Too slow. 

Aiah ducked, electricity surging up her arm. She caught his wrist—a direct shock to the nervous system. His body convulsed violently before collapsing to the ground.

Two more flanked her. One raised a pistol—Aiah thrust her palm forward, sending a crackling arc of lightning straight into his chest. 

He flew backward, crashing into a glass panel. Shattered.

The other closed the distance. Big mistake.

Aiah pivoted, sliding under his swing. Her hand shot up—a bolt of raw energy discharged straight into his helmet. 

The visor short-circuited, sparks bursting from his suit before he dropped like a stone.

She barely had a second to breathe.

More coming.

Aiah exhaled sharply, then slammed her hands together.

The entire hallway erupted in a blinding pulse of electricity. The lights exploded overhead, sending the corridor into flickering chaos. 

Screens fizzled, circuits fried—SIGMA’s security systems were crumbling around her.

Her father’s voice roared over the intercom. “Aiah, STOP!”

She didn’t.

Another squad turned the corner, rifles raised—but she was already moving.

Electricity surged through her legs, amplifying her speed. She darted forward, too fast to track, too fast to aim at. 

A knee to one soldier’s gut, an elbow to another’s jaw—she weaved through them like a storm, leaving bodies in her wake.

No hesitation. No second chances.

She hit the final security door, slamming her hand against the control panel. 

Denied.

No time.

Her body thrummed, energy roaring through her veins. She gritted her teeth, pressing both palms flat against the metal.

Then—she let go.

A devastating blast of pure electricity surged from her core, frying the door’s entire locking mechanism. 

The metal buckled, warped, then blew open.

Freedom.

Aiah didn’t look back. She staggered forward, out of the facility, out into the rain. 

Out into the night.

She had nothing left.

Nowhere left to go.

Except—

A motorcycle screeched to a stop ahead of her.

She had her hood up, eyes sharp beneath the glow of the city lights. Rain slid down her skin, her grip steady on the throttle.

Aiah’s breath caught.

A blur of speed, a rush of air. SIGMA soldiers dropped like dominos.

Jhoanna moved like a storm given form, too fast to see, too relentless to stop. 

One moment, SIGMA’s soldiers were closing in—the next, they were falling.

A rifle ripped from an agent’s grasp, tossed away like a toy. A sharp pivot, a knee driving into another’s gut, sending them sprawling. 

No wasted motion. No hesitation.

Another reached for his sidearm—Jhoanna was faster. 

Too fast. 

She twisted behind him in a blink, fingers locking around his wrist before he could even pull the trigger. 

With a sharp twist, she disarmed him, flipping him over her shoulder and slamming him against the concrete.

The last one barely had time to react before Jhoanna was on him. A brutal kick sent him flying into a crate, the wood splintering on impact.

Silence.

SIGMA’s forces lay crumpled around them, groaning, unmoving.

Aiah barely registered it. Her breath came in short, shallow bursts. 

Too much blood loss. Too much pain.

Then—

“Aiah!”

Jhoanna’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and angry. Familiar.

Aiah blinked. Her vision swam.

Jhoanna was suddenly in front of her, solid, real, here.

She shouldn’t have come back.

Not for her.

Her knees buckled.

Jhoanna caught her before she could hit the ground.

Aiah felt the warmth of her hands—steady, grounding, the only thing keeping her upright. 

She could feel the tension in Jhoanna’s grip, the barely contained urgency beneath her touch.

Their eyes met.

And suddenly, there was nothing else.

No gunfire. No sirens. No enemy forces pressing in.

Just them.

Something unspoken passed between them—a war, a question, a plea.

Jhoanna’s grip tightened. Like she wouldn’t let go.

Like she wasn’t running this time.

“Can you move?” Jhoanna asked, breathless.

Aiah swallowed. Forced her head to clear. “I don’t need saving.”

Jhoanna’s lips twitched, but the usual arrogance wasn’t there. Only something raw. 

Something worried.

“Yeah?” she muttered, adjusting her hold on Aiah. 

“Then try not to pass out before we escape.”

She didn’t wait for a response.

She just held on—and ran.

+

Aiah barely registered the city blurring past them as Jhoanna weaved through the streets, engine growling beneath them. 

The wind bit at her skin, carrying the scent of rain and exhaust, but she barely noticed. 

Her body ached, her mind reeled, and her skin still tingled from the raw power she’d unleashed back at SIGMA’s facility.

She should have been thinking—about what she had done, about what came next. About the fact that she had just turned her back on everything she had known.

But all she could focus on was the steady grip around her waist.

Jhoanna’s arm tightened slightly as they rounded a corner, instinctively keeping Aiah steady. 

Like she knew Aiah was barely holding on.

Aiah hated that it grounded her.

She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to sit upright despite the sharp pull in her side. “You drive like an asshole.”

Jhoanna huffed a laugh. “And yet, we’re still alive. Funny how that works.”

Aiah rolled her eyes, but she didn’t have the energy to argue. 

Not when the adrenaline was wearing off, leaving only exhaustion in its wake.

She let herself rest against Jhoanna’s back—just for a second.

+

The safe house was hidden behind a rusted junkyard, tucked between stacks of scrap metal and old, forgotten machines. 

It was small, barely more than a converted storage unit, but it was well-hidden. Secure.

Jhoanna cut the engine and swung off the bike in one fluid motion. Aiah tried to follow, but the moment she moved—

Pain. Sharp and searing.

Her knees buckled.

Jhoanna cursed, catching her before she could hit the ground. “Shit—Aiah.”

Aiah gritted her teeth, frustration burning through the pain. “I’m fine.”

Jhoanna let out a short, unimpressed laugh. “Yeah? ‘Cause from where I’m standing, you look about three seconds away from passing out.”

Aiah forced herself to straighten. “I said, I’m—”

Jhoanna pulled her jacket aside—revealing the deep, still-bleeding gash along her ribs.

Aiah went still.

She hadn’t even noticed. With the adrenaline, the fight, the electricity still buzzing in her veins—she hadn’t felt it.

Jhoanna swore under her breath. “Stubborn idiot.”

Aiah scowled. “I liked it better when you were pretending not to care.”

Jhoanna scoffed. “Who said I was pretending?”

Before Aiah could snap back, Jhoanna hooked an arm around her waist and started half-dragging her toward the safe house.

“Inside. Now.”

+

The safe house was dimly lit, the glow of a single lamp casting long shadows over the small space. A makeshift table sat in the center, cluttered with stolen SIGMA files and old, faded maps. There were no windows, just reinforced steel walls and the faint hum of a backup generator.

Jhoanna guided Aiah to a chair before disappearing into another room. When she returned, she had a med kit in one hand and a half-empty bottle of liquor in the other.

Aiah raised an eyebrow. “Drinking on the job?”

Jhoanna smirked. “It’s for your wound, genius.”

Aiah barely had time to process that before Jhoanna unceremoniously poured the liquor straight over the gash.

Aiah swore violently, body jolting from the burn. “Holy—a little warning next time?!”

Jhoanna snorted, dabbing at the wound with a cloth. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Aiah glared, her breath still uneven. “You’re enjoying this.”

Jhoanna grinned. “A little.”

Aiah huffed, wincing as Jhoanna continued cleaning the wound. 

The air between them settled into something tense—charged, but not in the way it was before. 

Not with fists and electricity.

With something quieter.

Heavier.

Aiah swallowed, her voice quieter when she spoke again. “Why are you doing this?”

Jhoanna didn’t look up. “Because you needed an escape.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Jhoanna’s hands stilled.

Aiah expected her to brush it off, to throw out some sarcastic quip like she always did. 

Instead, Jhoanna sighed, pressing a little too hard against the wound—maybe on purpose, maybe not.

“I don’t leave people behind.”

Aiah’s breath hitched.

She should have argued. 

Should have pointed out that Jhoanna had spent years running, slipping through SIGMA’s fingers, leaving destruction in her wake.

But she didn’t.

Because, for the first time in a long time—

Aiah didn’t feel alone.

+

Aiah wasn’t used to staying still.

She had spent her whole life in motion—training, fighting, following orders. Even after learning the truth about SIGMA, she had been running, always looking over her shoulder, heart pounding with every second wasted. 

Now, for the first time, she had nowhere to go. 

No mission to follow. No enemy to chase.

She hated it.

“I can walk just fine,” Aiah grumbled, crossing her arms as Jhoanna blocked the doorway of the safe house’s tiny living room.

Jhoanna didn’t even blink. “Uh-huh. That’s why you nearly ate shit two hours ago just trying to stand up.”

Aiah scowled. “I miscalculated my footing.”

Jhoanna smirked. “Yeah? How about you miscalculate your ass back into that chair before I make you?”

Aiah met her gaze with a withering glare, jaw clenched. 

She had stared down SIGMA officers, faced life-or-death missions, and walked away without so much as a flinch. 

But Jhoanna? Jhoanna had a way of getting under her skin like no one else.

She refused to back down.

Unfortunately, her body had other plans. A sharp twinge shot through her side, the wound flaring in protest. 

Her knees wobbled before she could steady herself.

Jhoanna’s smirk deepened.

“I hate you,” Aiah gritted out, lowering herself into the chair with all the grace of a wounded animal.

Jhoanna winked. “I know.”

She didn’t gloat—which was suspicious. Instead, she grabbed a bag from the corner, rummaged through it, and tossed a protein bar in Aiah’s direction. 

“Eat.”

Aiah caught it out of instinct, narrowing her eyes. “Where do you even get all this stuff?”

Jhoanna perched herself on the edge of the table, unwrapping her own snack. “Black market. Stolen SIGMA rations. Occasionally, I charm a vendor or two.”

Aiah snorted. “Charm?”

Jhoanna grinned. “Don’t look so surprised. I can be very persuasive.”

Aiah rolled her eyes, biting into the protein bar. It tasted like cardboard and regret. 

“More like annoying.”

“Same thing, really.”

A brief silence settled between them—comfortable, surprisingly. 

The kind that didn’t demand words, just the quiet understanding of two people who had been through hell and made it out, somehow.

Jhoanna swung one leg idly, watching Aiah. “You gonna tell me how you got that wound?”

Aiah exhaled through her nose. “You already know.”

Jhoanna leaned back slightly. “I wanna hear you say it.”

Aiah hesitated. 

She could still hear her father’s voice through the facility’s speakers, the cold detachment in every syllable as he called for her neutralization.

She swallowed hard. “SIGMA found out I was digging.”

Jhoanna nodded, waiting for her to continue.

Aiah ran a hand through her hair, jaw tight. “I fought my way out. Didn’t realize I got hit in the process.”

Jhoanna clicked her tongue. “Classic rookie mistake.”

Aiah shot her a look. “Excuse me?”

Jhoanna smirked. “Losing track of injuries in the middle of a fight? Getting caught off guard by your own body?” She shook her head in mock disappointment. 

“Tsk, tsk, Agent Dela Cruz. I expected better.”

Aiah gritted her teeth. “I was—”

“Distracted?” Jhoanna teased. 

“Overwhelmed? Having an existential crisis about betraying your murderous overlords?”

Aiah exhaled sharply. “Remind me why I didn’t electrocute you the second I saw you?”

Jhoanna grinned. “Because deep down, you’d miss me.”

Aiah threw the protein bar wrapper at her face.

The next few days followed the same rhythm.

Aiah tried to push herself too soon.

Jhoanna made sure she didn’t.

And somehow, they fell into something that almost felt normal.

It was easy to pretend they weren’t fugitives when they were arguing over how much salt to put in instant noodles.

“You’re going to ruin it,” Aiah huffed, arms crossed as she watched Jhoanna dump half the packet into the pot.

Jhoanna scoffed. “Ruin what? It’s already trash.”

Aiah narrowed her eyes. “And yet, you’re still making it.”

“Yeah, well, beggars can’t be choosers.” Jhoanna stirred the pot, then shot Aiah a smirk. 

“Unless you wanna cook?”

Aiah grimaced. “Never mind.”

It was easy to forget about SIGMA when Jhoanna was rolling her eyes at Aiah’s inability to sleep past dawn.

“I swear, you’re worse than an old man,” Jhoanna grumbled one morning, burying her face into her pillow as Aiah rummaged through the small safe house kitchen. 

“The war’s not gonna end just ‘cause you wake up at five, Dela Cruz.”

“It’s a habit,” Aiah muttered, pouring coffee into a chipped mug.

“It’s annoying,” Jhoanna countered, voice muffled.

Aiah didn’t argue. 

Mostly because she knew Jhoanna wasn’t a morning person and picking a fight before she’d had breakfast was suicidal.

And it was too easy to feel something else when Jhoanna sat next to her, too close, hands brushing as she passed Aiah another stolen energy drink.

Aiah took the can, fingers tingling where they touched. It wasn’t like she’d never been around Jhoanna before. 

They had fought together, bled together, been through hell together.

But this was different.

Because now, she had the time to notice.

To notice the way Jhoanna always fidgeted with a lighter, even when she wasn’t lighting anything.

To notice the way her voice dropped slightly when she was being serious.

To notice the way the dim lighting of the safe house made the sharp angles of her face even sharper, her eyes catching every flicker of movement.

Too easy.

Aiah caught herself watching Jhoanna too often—when she was fixing something on her bike, when she was cleaning her weapons, when she was laughing.

But the worst was when Jhoanna stepped out of the tiny, barely functional bathroom one night, her damp hair sticking to her forehead, wearing nothing but a loose tank top and sweats.

Aiah’s brain short-circuited.

Because Jhoanna had no right to look like that.

The tank top clung to her in a way that shouldn’t have made Aiah stare. 

Her toned arms, the faint scars along her skin, the easy way she moved like she belonged anywhere she stood—it was all too much.

Jhoanna ran a towel through her hair and tossed it onto the back of a chair before flopping onto the couch, stretching her arms over her head with a content sigh.

Aiah forced herself to look away, clenching her jaw.

She had faced death.

She had betrayed SIGMA.

She had fought her own father.

But nothing, nothing, had ever made her feel as unsteady as this.

Jhoanna caught her staring once.

She didn’t call her out on it.

She just smirked, tilted her head slightly, and drawled, “See something you like, Dela Cruz?”

Aiah looked away, pretending her ears weren’t burning.

She wasn’t ready to answer that.

+

Aiah hated being out of commission.

The last few weeks had been an endless cycle of frustration. She wasn’t used to staying still. She had spent her whole life in motion—training, fighting, following orders. 

Even when she learned the truth about SIGMA, she had been running.

Running from them, running from the weight of betrayal, running from everything she used to believe in.

Now, she wasn’t running. 

She was waiting. Healing. 

And she hated it.

Jhoanna, of course, had enjoyed every second of her misery.

But today was different. 

Today, she was finally ready.

Or at least, she thought she was.

“You sure about this?” Jhoanna asked, arms crossed as she leaned against the doorway of the abandoned warehouse they were using as a training space. 

“Wouldn’t want you to ‘miscalculate your footing’ again.”

Aiah rolled her shoulders, cracking her neck. “I’m fine.”

Jhoanna smirked. “If you say so.” She stepped forward, cracking her knuckles. 

“Alright then, let’s see if SIGMA’s golden girl still has her edge.”

Aiah didn’t need the reminder. 

She knew she wasn’t at full capacity yet, but she wasn’t about to let Jhoanna have the satisfaction of babying her. 

She settled into her stance, electricity sparking at her fingertips. 

Controlled. Measured. 

She had spent the last week testing the limits of her power, making sure her injury hadn’t affected her precision.

Now, it was time to push further.

She moved first. Lightning-fast.

Jhoanna dodged—not a frantic, desperate dodge, but a smooth, calculated one. 

The kind that said I’ve done this before.

Aiah barely had time to react before Jhoanna disappeared.

A sharp kick swept Aiah’s legs out from under her before she even processed what was happening. She hit the ground hard, breath leaving her in a rush as Jhoanna crouched over her, grinning.

“Damn,” Jhoanna drawled. “Rusty already?”

Aiah scowled, gripping Jhoanna’s wrist and sending a sharp jolt of electricity through her.

Jhoanna yelped, jerking back. “Hey! No powers!”

Aiah flipped back onto her feet, smirking. “Should’ve said that before you knocked me down.”

Jhoanna grumbled something under her breath but didn’t protest. Instead, she wiped her hands on her pants and tilted her head. 

“Alright, no powers. Just skill.”

Aiah smirked. “You sure? Wouldn’t want you making excuses when you lose.”

Jhoanna barked out a laugh. “Big talk for someone who just ate dirt.”

And then she was moving again—fast.

Aiah barely blocked the first hit, deflected the second, and twisted away from the third. 

She countered with a sharp elbow to Jhoanna’s ribs, but Jhoanna rolled with the impact, using the momentum to spin and knock Aiah’s arm aside.

The fight became a dance—fast, fluid, the sound of fists meeting forearms, feet scraping against the concrete floor.

For the first time in weeks, Aiah felt alive.

Jhoanna was grinning. 

That wide, reckless grin she got when she was enjoying herself, when she was pushing limits.

“There she is,” Jhoanna said, voice light but pleased. 

“Thought you forgot how to fight.”

Aiah smirked, catching Jhoanna’s wrist mid-strike and twisting it behind her back. “And I thought you’d last longer.”

Jhoanna clicked her tongue. “Cocky.”

“Realistic.”

Jhoanna didn’t respond with words—just a sharp kick off the wall, flipping their positions.

Aiah barely registered the impact before she found herself pinned, Jhoanna’s weight pressing her down, holding her in place.

Aiah froze.

Jhoanna was too close.

The fight had left an electric charge in the air, something unspoken but undeniable. 

Aiah could feel the warmth of Jhoanna’s skin, the way her muscles tensed against her own. The rapid rise and fall of their breaths.

Jhoanna must’ve realized it too, because her smirk softened—just slightly. 

“Still sure you’re at a hundred percent?”

Aiah swallowed hard, her pulse jumping.

“Try me again,” she murmured.

Jhoanna’s lips curved, but instead of moving, she just leaned in a fraction closer. 

Not enough to touch. 

Just enough to drive Aiah insane.

She held it. Stretched the silence between them.

Then, just as easily, she pushed off, rolling to her feet and offering Aiah a hand.

Aiah hesitated.

For a split second, she thought about not taking it. About getting up on her own just to prove a point. 

But something about the way Jhoanna was watching her—waiting—made her reach up.

Jhoanna’s grip was firm as she pulled Aiah to her feet.

And just like that, the tension was gone.

Jhoanna clapped Aiah on the shoulder. “Not bad, Dela Cruz. You might actually survive after all.”

Aiah huffed, shaking her head. “You talk too much.”

Jhoanna grinned. “Yeah? You listen too much.”

Aiah should’ve walked away. 

Cooled off. 

Ignored whatever was building between them.

Instead, she shoved Jhoanna’s shoulder. Playfully.

Jhoanna shoved her back.

And just like that, they were laughing.

Aiah wasn’t sure what had changed, but something had. And she wasn’t sure if she was ready for it.

But she knew one thing for sure.

She didn’t want to run from it.

+

The night was still. Too still.

Aiah sat on the rooftop, absentmindedly spinning a spark of electricity between her fingertips. The soft hum of energy crackled in the silence, a rhythm she had grown used to. 

Jhoanna had gone to check the perimeter, leaving Aiah alone with the quiet—something she had started to hate.

Silence meant thinking. 

And thinking meant remembering.

Her father’s voice through the speakers.

Her name on the list.

The realization that everything she had believed in had been a lie.

SIGMA had been quiet. 

Too quiet. 

It had been weeks since Aiah went rogue, since she became the very thing she used to hunt. 

She knew they wouldn’t let that go.

But she didn’t expect them to move tonight.

A rapid knock shattered the quiet.

Aiah was already moving before Jhoanna swung open the door. Gwen. 

Disheveled. Breathless. Eyes wild with urgency.

Aiah’s stomach dropped.

“Aiah—” Gwen gasped, doubling over, hands on her knees. 

“They’re attacking.”

The world tilted.

Jhoanna grabbed Gwen’s shoulders. “Who?”

“SIGMA.” Gwen’s voice shook. 

“They hit Alon’s headquarters. They think Aiah’s there.”

Aiah’s blood ran cold.

Because of her. SIGMA had found them because of her.

Jhoanna swore under her breath. “How bad?”

Gwen inhaled sharply, still catching her breath. “We don’t know. Communications cut off after the first warning. We need to go—now.”

Jhoanna didn’t hesitate. “Then we move.”

Aiah was already grabbing her jacket, hands trembling—not with fear, but with energy, with power. 

Sparks danced along her fingertips, lighting up the dim room. Her pulse pounded against her ribs.

Jhoanna glanced at her. “You good?”

Aiah didn’t answer. 

Did it matter?

She wasn’t running this time.

She was going to end this.

The moment they reached the outskirts of the Alon hideout, the air reeked of smoke.

SIGMA had arrived in full force. 

Drones hovered in the sky, scanning for movement. Fires flickered in the distance. The sound of gunfire and shouting cut through the night.

Aiah clenched her fists. She felt the storm brewing in her chest.

Jhoanna crouched beside her, eyes locked on the carnage ahead. “We need to be smart about this.”

Aiah exhaled slowly. Control. Precision. 

No mistakes.

But then a scream tore through the night—a familiar voice.

Gwen.

Jhoanna’s head snapped toward the sound. “Shit—”

Aiah didn’t think.

Electricity erupted from her fingertips as she launched forward.

She was done hiding.

She moved like lightning—fast, precise, unstoppable. 

The first SIGMA soldier barely had time to react before Aiah’s electricity shot through his armor, making him seize and collapse.

A second soldier raised his rifle. Too slow.

Aiah surged forward, gripping his chest plate and sending a pulse of raw energy into him. He crumpled.

Jhoanna was at her side in an instant, using the opening Aiah made. 

She twisted behind another soldier, disarmed him with brutal efficiency, and slammed his head against the wall.

For the first time, they fought as one.

Jhoanna was a blur of movement, dodging, weaving, striking with ruthless precision. 

Aiah was the storm, electricity arcing through the air, incapacitating enemies before they could even fire.

Aiah turned just in time to see a SIGMA officer leveling a high-powered rifle at Jhoanna.

No.

Aiah reacted.

She raised a hand and let loose a crackling bolt of electricity, hitting the officer square in the chest. 

He collapsed instantly.

Jhoanna barely spared a glance, just grinned. “Not bad, Dela Cruz.”

Aiah exhaled sharply, adrenaline thrumming through her veins.

“We need to find Gwen and the others,” Jhoanna said, scanning the wreckage.

Aiah nodded, eyes burning. 

SIGMA thought they could take everything from her.

They were about to learn what happened when a storm fought back.

Smoke and dust clung to the air, thick and suffocating. 

The night was alive with chaos—gunfire, shouting, the metallic clang of weapons clashing. Fires raged in the distance, their glow casting jagged shadows over the battlefield.

Aiah and Jhoanna stood back to back, surrounded by SIGMA’s forces. 

Outnumbered. But not outmatched.

They had cut through wave after wave of soldiers, but more kept coming, moving in with precision, like vultures circling their prey. 

This was it.

Aiah’s hands crackled with electricity, the blue-white glow illuminating her narrowed eyes. Her muscles ached, lungs burning, but she pushed it down. 

She had one job. 

Win.

Jhoanna spun a stolen baton in her grip, the motion fluid, effortless. 

Her stance was steady despite the exhaustion in her limbs, despite the blood trailing down her temple from a wound she hadn't even bothered to acknowledge.

She smirked. “You tired yet?” Her voice was edged with adrenaline, fire.

Aiah exhaled, steadying her pulse. “You wish.”

Jhoanna’s grin sharpened. “Good. Because we’re not done.”

And then they moved.

Aiah struck first. 

Electricity snapped through the air, arcing toward the nearest soldier. He seized violently before collapsing, his armor short-circuiting under the sheer voltage.

Jhoanna followed, a blur of motion. 

She disarmed another soldier in a single swift motion, twisting the rifle from his grasp before slamming her baton against his visor with a sickening crack.

For the first time, Aiah wasn’t holding back.

For the first time, Jhoanna wasn’t running alone.

They fought in perfect sync—Aiah’s electricity sending enemies staggering, screaming, and Jhoanna finishing them off with sharp, decisive strikes. 

Jhoanna dodged, Aiah covered her blind spots. They anticipated each other’s moves like they had been fighting together for years.

Unstoppable.

A shout from the distance—Gwen. 

Injured, but still standing. Still fighting.

Aiah’s breath came fast. They were pushing back. Alon’s forces were fighting harder, refusing to break. 

But SIGMA wasn’t stopping either. Not yet.

Her gaze snapped to the commander in the distance, barking orders into his comms. 

He was calling for reinforcements.

Jhoanna must’ve seen it too, because she turned, eyes burning with something fierce, raw. 

“You ready to end this?”

Aiah met her gaze. No hesitation.

“Yes.”

Jhoanna stepped closer, their bodies almost touching. 

Aiah could feel her breath—warm, uneven, alive.

Jhoanna’s lips curled into something wild, reckless. 

A dare. 

“Then let’s make them regret ever coming after us.”

Jhoanna barely had time to react before Aiah grabbed her by the collar and kissed her.

It was desperate, urgent—a battle cry, a promise, a damnation.

Aiah’s fingers clenched in Jhoanna’s shirt, electricity sparking between them, but she didn’t pull away.

Not this time.

Jhoanna smirked against her lips, pressing their foreheads together. “Try to keep up, Dela Cruz.”

Aiah’s heart thundered.

Then, together, they charged.

They moved as one.

Aiah surged forward, lightning exploding from her palms. 

The electricity cut through the battlefield like a vengeful storm, arcing from soldier to soldier, frying their comms, overloading their visors, sending them crashing to the ground before they could react.

Jhoanna was a blur, slipping through the chaos with ruthless efficiency. She disarmed, dodged, struck, her movements fluid and merciless. 

A soldier aimed at her—Aiah saw it first, and without thinking, she whipped a bolt of electricity across the field. The soldier’s rifle exploded in his hands, and Jhoanna didn’t even flinch.

Instead, she turned her head slightly and smirked. “I knew you liked me.”

Aiah rolled her eyes, even as her heart pounded. “Shut up and fight.”

Jhoanna winked and flipped over a SIGMA soldier, her baton slamming into his neck before he even realized she was there.

The battlefield was a storm of movement, gunfire, and smoke, but they didn’t stop.

They couldn’t.

Across the wreckage, Gwen was helping an injured fighter move toward cover, shouting something Aiah barely registered. 

Behind her, more SIGMA soldiers were closing in. Too many.

Aiah’s stomach twisted.

They needed to end this. Now.

Her gaze locked onto the commander—the one giving orders, calling for reinforcements. He was the key.

Jhoanna must’ve seen it too because she gripped her wrist, tugging her behind cover. 

“We take him out, we take out their command structure.”

Aiah nodded, breath coming fast. “I’ll clear a path.”

Jhoanna grinned, eyes gleaming. “I’ll finish it.”

Aiah inhaled sharply. The air crackled around her as she pushed her power to the limit. 

Electricity raced down her arms, coiling around her fingers like a living thing.

Then she unleashed it.

A massive shockwave erupted from her hands, surging toward SIGMA’s forces. 

It ripped through their defenses, short-circuited weapons, sent operatives reeling as their armor malfunctioned.

Chaos.

Jhoanna darted through the openings, fast, precise, lethal. 

The commander barely had time to turn before she was on him, baton slamming into his ribs, knocking the rifle from his hands.

Aiah closed the distance, electricity buzzing between her fingertips.

The commander spat blood, sneering. “You think you’ve won?” His gaze flickered to Aiah. Cold. Calculated. 

“You’re one of us. No matter what you do.”

Aiah froze.

Then a voice cut through the chaos.

“Aiah.”

She stiffened. Her breath caught in her throat.

She knew that voice.

Through the smoke and flickering lights, he emerged—General Elias Dela Cruz. 

Her father.

His uniform was pristine despite the battlefield, his expression unreadable. 

His eyes, however, held something sharp. 

Disappointment. Judgment. A soldier’s gaze locking onto his target.

Her.

Jhoanna tensed beside her. “Aiah—”

Aiah stepped forward. “Get to the commander,” she said quietly. 

“This is my fight.”

Jhoanna hesitated, then nodded, slipping into the shadows.

Aiah faced her father.

“I should’ve known you’d turn on us,” he said, voice steady. 

“You had the potential to be great, Aiah. To do something meaningful. But you chose this.” He gestured to the battlefield. To Alon. 

“Fighting for a losing side.”

Aiah clenched her fists. “You think SIGMA is justice? You hunt people like me.”

She moved first. Lightning surged from her fingertips, striking toward him like a storm unleashed.

He was ready.

Elias dodged, rolling to the side with a soldier’s precision. 

He countered with a baton strike, forcing her to duck. 

He was fast—too fast. 

Years of training, years of command, made him an opponent unlike any she had faced before.

But Aiah had something he didn’t.

She let the storm take over.

Electricity crackled through the ground, making his armor flicker with energy interference. 

He stumbled—only for a second, but it was enough. 

Aiah lunged, dodging his swing and slamming her charged palm against his chestplate.

The shockwave sent him flying.

He hit the ground hard, smoke rising from his uniform. 

But he still got up.

Blood dripped from his temple. He exhaled slowly. 

“You’re stronger than I thought.”

Aiah clenched her fists. “And I’m done being afraid of you.”

For the first time, something shifted in his expression. 

The flicker of a man who had once been a father. Then it was gone.

“We’ll see.”

Aiah didn’t give him the chance to strike again.

She unleashed everything. 

The battlefield lit up as her power roared, arcs of electricity splitting the ground, the air, everything in between.

Elias tried to counter, but the storm swallowed him whole.

When the smoke cleared, he was on his knees, defeated.

Aiah stood over him, chest heaving, sparks flickering from her fingertips. He looked up at her, his breathing ragged, but still, he did not beg.

She could end it. Right here. Right now.

Her hands shook.

Then—

Jhoanna’s voice. “Aiah!”

She turned, pulse racing. Jhoanna stood where the commander had fallen, SIGMA retreating.

The fight was over.

Aiah exhaled shakily. She looked down at her father one last time.

Then she turned and walked away.

Elias did not call after her.

The battlefield had fallen silent. SIGMA was in full retreat.

Jhoanna let out a breathless laugh. “Holy shit.”

Aiah turned, eyes meeting hers. Jhoanna was grinning. 

Beaten, bruised, and grinning like they hadn’t just fought for their lives.

Aiah swallowed. “You’re insane.”

Jhoanna raised a brow, still breathless. “And you love it.”

Aiah didn’t answer.

She didn’t have to.

Because she grabbed Jhoanna by the collar and kissed her again.

This time, it wasn’t a battle cry.

It was a victory.

The city lay in ruins, but SIGMA had fallen.

Smoke still curled from the remnants of their headquarters, the once-imposing structure now reduced to rubble. 

The battle had been won, but the war wasn’t over. 

Not for them.

Aiah stood at the edge of the wreckage, watching as the first light of dawn crept over the horizon. 

She should’ve felt relief. Victory. 

Something. 

But all she felt was the weight of what came next.

“They’ll come for us,” Jhoanna said, stepping beside her. 

She was bruised, cut, but there was still fire in her eyes. 

“We took down SIGMA’s command, but the world isn’t going to suddenly see us as heroes.”

Aiah scoffed. “Yeah. I figured.”

They were fugitives now. 

The moment they had struck the final blow, they had sealed their fates. 

No home. No safety. 

No certainty about what came next. 

Just the road, the chase, and the new kind of war they had to fight—one where the enemy could be anyone.

Jhoanna studied her, eyes sharp but unreadable. “Regrets?”

Aiah turned to face her fully. 

The past few weeks had been nothing but impossible choices, but this—standing here with Jhoanna, still alive, still breathing—this wasn’t one of them.

She shook her head. “No.”

Jhoanna smirked. “Good.”

Tension still lingered between them, the old wariness refusing to fade overnight. 

They had spent years on opposite sides—Aiah as the hunter, Jhoanna as the one always running. 

Trust didn’t come easy. 

But something had shifted in the wreckage of battle, in stolen glances and desperate touches, in the way they had fought not just for survival but for each other.

Aiah exhaled, stretching her arms, shaking out the last remnants of exhaustion. “We should get moving.”

Jhoanna raised a brow. “You in a hurry?”

Aiah smirked. “Nah.” A spark of electricity danced between her fingertips. “Just thought I’d give you a head start.”

Jhoanna chuckled, rolling her shoulders. “You’re hilarious, Dela Cruz.”

Aiah took a step forward, eyes gleaming. “Race me.”

Jhoanna blinked, then grinned. “You’re on.”

Aiah barely had time to brace before Jhoanna grabbed her by the collar and crashed their lips together. 

The kiss was fire and electricity, desperate and consuming, a release of everything they had held back. 

Aiah gasped against Jhoanna’s lips, and Jhoanna took full advantage, deepening the kiss, pulling her closer, fingers tangling in Aiah’s shirt as if letting go wasn’t an option.

When they finally broke apart, both breathless, Jhoanna rested her forehead against Aiah’s.

A slow, satisfied smirk tugged at her lips. “Try to keep up.”

Aiah’s heart pounded, but her grin was sharp as she took off.

Side by side. Running not away, but forward.