Rain streaked the train windows as Amy and Kou sat across from each other, the silence between them heavier than the gray sky outside. Kou’s eyes stayed fixed on the table, avoiding Amy’s gaze. Ever since she returned from the meadow, something had shifted. The warmth she’d shown him yesterday was gone, replaced by a strange, uncomfortable distance—like a thin sheet of ice had formed between them.

  Amy’s voice broke the silence.

  “Are you thirsty, son?”

  Kou glanced at her, his expression hesitant, before giving a small nod. Amy handed him a thermos of warm water. Kou took it, his fingers brushing hers for just a second before he pulled away and took a sip. He wanted to say something—anything—but the words stuck in his throat. Whatever had changed in Amy wasn’t something he could explain, but he felt it.

  At the same time, Kou knew this train was taking him to the place Amy promised would be safe—a sanctuary where the people hunting him couldn’t reach.

  Even so, the reality of it was sinking in. This wasn’t just any kidnapping. It was something much bigger. Powerful people wanted him—to experiment on him, to use him.

  For the first time, he missed home. His boring, simple life. His grandfather, who had been his quiet anchor ever since his mother’s death. Waves of uncertainty and fear rolled through him as he braced for whatever came next. Whether it was safety or something worse, Kou had no choice but to accept it.

  “Mom,” Kou asked quietly, “what’s going to happen to me once we get there?”

  Amy smiled, but it wasn’t the smile from yesterday. This one was polished, practiced—a perfect, fake smile.

  “Of course, you’ll be taken good care of,” she said smoothly. “The people there are kind, and they’ll keep you safe. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  “Okay, mom…” Kou answered, but the heaviness in his voice made it clear he didn’t believe her.

  Across from him, Amy held a book open in her hands, its pages filled with neatly folded papers—secret codes, agent names, safehouse locations scattered across Birmingham. Her eyes flicked from page to page behind her dark umber-tinted glasses. The book was a cover, just like her smile.

  Kou turned his face to the window. Rain dripped down the glass, blending into the blur of the passing landscape. The steady rhythm of the train tracks and the patter of rain filled the silence between them. Sad, but somehow soothing. Rain had always been Kou’s favorite weather—it made him feel safe, like the world was slowing down to match his own quiet heart.

  “I’m going to the bathroom, mom,” Kou said suddenly, standing up.

  Amy’s hand shot out, gently catching his shoulder.

  “I’ll go with you. It’s safer that way. I’ll wait outside the door.”

  “No, mom. I can go by myself.”

  Kou gently pulled free from her grip and walked down the aisle. Amy’s eyes followed him the whole way, her concern flickering just briefly before she buried it beneath her mask. She turned back to her papers, reading the words without really seeing them.

  Both of them knew—today was the day. There was no turning back.

  The train slowed as it pulled into the station under a sky still heavy with rain. Amy and Kou stepped onto the platform, the air thick with dampness and the scent of wet pavement. The station felt similar to King’s Cross, but there was something off about it—something colder, emptier. To Kou, the whole place felt alien, like a world that didn’t want him there.

  Maybe it was because this wasn’t a vacation anymore. This was about survival.

  Amy led the way, holding a folded map in one hand as part of her cover while her other hand held tightly to Kou’s.

  She scanned her surroundings, her mind already several steps ahead. The first priority was to secure a safe place to lie low until nightfall. There was an abandoned warehouse on her map—not perfect, but secluded enough.

  For Kou’s sake, she thought, I’ll choose the least unpleasant place I can.

  The station was busy, but less chaotic than London. Restaurants and souvenir shops lined the halls, and clusters of tourists wandered past with bright smiles and careless chatter. Kou stared at them, his heart sinking with quiet envy. For them, it was another day of fun trip. For him, this was a one-way ticket into the unknown.

  Amy hailed a cab, and they rode in silence, the rain blurring the windows. When they arrived, they stepped into a narrow alleyway—the kind of place no one would bother to look. A rusty metal door stood beneath a graffiti mural, pink and blue paint forming the number 96 across its surface.

  “This is it,” Amy said softly. “We’ll stay here until nightfall. It’ll keep you safe.”

  She yanked the door open with a sharp creak, the sound splitting through the silence. The inside was dim and dusty, but not completely ruined. The lights still worked, flickering slightly but holding steady.

  Kou hesitated at the threshold. He felt nothing—no fear, no relief, just a hollow emptiness swallowing him whole. Shutting down his senses felt easier than feeling anything at all.

  He followed Amy inside, his footsteps dragging behind hers.

  The room itself was plain—old, dusty, but functional. Amy swept her hand across the surfaces, wiping away the worst of the grime. She made up a simple bed for Kou, her motions quick and efficient, like muscle memory.

  “I need to head out for a bit,” she said. “Please, stay here and don’t leave this room. It’s one of the safest places we have right now. The bathroom’s through that door—I cleaned it, so it’s fine to use. I won’t be gone long.”

  She turned, reaching for the door—but something soft and warm collided with her back.

  Kou.

  His arms wrapped tightly around her, his face buried into her waist. His body trembled, and when he spoke, his voice cracked like broken glass.

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  “Please… don’t leave me again, Amy. I—I don’t know what’s happening anymore, but every time you leave, it feels like the real you disappears too. I’m scared… I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to be abandoned again…”

  Tears poured from him, his fragile heart laid bare, his pain raw and unfiltered.

  Amy froze, her hand hovering above the door handle. For just a moment, the void inside her faltered—the cold wall she had built crumble under the weight of his words.

  She wanted to comfort him. She wanted to hold him back. But she couldn’t.

  Not if she wanted to stay strong enough to protect him.

  “I can’t take you with me, Kou,” she said softly, her voice as gentle as she could make it.

  “It’s too dangerous from here on. I need to make sure this place is safe first. I want you to be safe.”

  She turned to him one last time, offering a smile. This one was thin, fragile, stretched over the cracks forming beneath. It was a farewell smile.

  Before Kou could say anything, Amy turned back and pulled the door shut, locking it from the outside.

  Her palm rested against the metal for a second longer than necessary.

  I am a spy. I am the Void. I will do whatever it takes to deliver the piece to Sanctuary.

  She whispered the words like a mantra, trying to convince herself that it was still true.

  Then, without looking back, she walked into the rain.

  Amy listened to the crackle of her earpiece. On the other end, the voice was cold but familiar—Rex, codename: Falcon.

  “Amy Silver reporting. What’s the situation in London?”

  Rex’s reply was grim.

  “Bad. Jack—that bastard must’ve leaked everything. Every base in London is compromised. Safehouses, railway routes—all burned. We’ve lost contact with multiple agents. Most are captured, and if Omni’s standards haven’t changed, they’re already being tortured for intel.”

  Amy’s voice stayed flat. “Orders?”

  “You’re the only active agent left in Birmingham. I need you to confirm the status of the main base. We’ve lost all comms—completely dark. Omni’s either jamming everything or they’ve breached our internal systems. Worst case, the base is already taken.”

  There was a pause, then Rex added, “Be careful, Void. You’re on your own out there.”

  “Understood.”

  Amy secured her sniper rifle inside its case, holstered twin pistols on either side of her suit, checked her grappler and her knife. Everything was accounted for. Without another word, she stepped onto the window ledge and fired the grappler into the rain-soaked night.

  The weather was on her side—umbrellas shielded civilians below from spotting her. In the storm, the Void becomes a ghost.

  Rooftop to rooftop, she moved without hesitation. At the final building, she stopped and raised her binoculars toward the skyscraper—Sanctuary’s Birmingham base.

  Every window was covered. Curtains drawn tight. No movement. No signal.

  That’s bad.

  The sniper rifle was useless now. Amy dropped the case into a ventilation shaft and drew her assault rifle instead. This was close-quarters work now.

  Anyone who isn’t Sanctuary is already dead to me.

  The front entrance was no good, so she grappled directly to the roof. There, a rusted access door led to the stairwell. Amy knelt, slipping a tension wrench and pick from her sleeve. Her fingers worked on instinct — a click, then the door creaked open.

  She switched on her rifle flashlight, sweeping the narrow stairwell with precision. The beam landed on a corpse sprawled face-down—a Sanctuary agent, shot in the back while trying to run.

  Amy paused just for a second. Harry. She recognized the lighter beside him, his favourite. They’d worked a smuggling raid together at the Port of Felixstowe, shutting down a drug pipeline from Europe. He was a witty man.

  She stepped over him. There would be time to grieve later—if there ever was a later.

  More bodies filled the next corridor. Blood smeared the floor and walls. A slaughter. They’d run, but no one escaped.

  Amy’s heart turned to ice. The Void inside her had fully awakened.

  At the stairwell’s corner, she glanced up at a camera mounted overhead—and stared directly into it.

  Come find me. If you can.

  She raised her wrist, fired a silent EMP dart, and the camera died.

  The alarm screamed seconds later—but Amy didn’t care. This wasn’t about stealth anymore.

  Her boots hit the stairs at full speed. The first two intruders barely had time to react—her rifle dropped the man with a clean chest shot, then her foot snapped into his jaw as he fell. The woman next to him took a bullet between the eyes before she could aim.

  Another burst of footsteps above—backup closing in. Amy flicked her wrist, sending a bouncing distraction device clattering down the stairwell. The agents flinched at the sound, giving Amy the half-second she needed to drop between floors, twin pistols drawn.

  Two shots. Two heads. One heartbeat.

  She reloaded on the move, reaching the control floor. Ten armed intruders filled the hallway, panic flickering behind their eyes when they realized who they were facing.

  They opened fire, but Amy was already behind cover. Her mask slid down over her face.

  A sleep grenade rolled into their formation, hissing out gas. One by one, they collapsed, weapons clattering to the floor.

  Amy stepped over the bodies, pushing open the door to the control center. Every screen flickered static—Omni had already buried their claws into the system.

  Another corpse slumped against the panel—this time, Nay, the agent she’d once trained with. They weren’t friends—spies rarely were, but they’d been comrades, and that meant something in Sanctuary.

  She brushed her fingers briefly across her shoulder. No words.

  Then, a flash replaced with a boy’s smile. Kou.

  Is he safe? Is he still breathing? If Birmingham is already gone…

  Amy’s heart hammered once, hard enough to hurt. She shoved the thought down—but it was too late.

  Amy’s stomach twisted. If Birmingham is compromised… then Kou’s safety is already in danger.

  She immediately pressed her palm against the control panel, unlocking the lower levels.

  Then, bolted for the lower levels, pistols drawn, her mind already planning how to extract Kou before the enemy could find him.

  One thought pulsed in her head, louder than the gunfire.

  This is Jack’s fault. Every corpse I step over is Jack’s doing.

  The Void desired revenge.

  But Amy just wanted to get back to Kou.

  She holstered her pistols, fingers trembling just slightly.

  Why am I thinking about Kou so much? He’s just a piece—a target to keep out of Omni’s hands. Nothing more.

  She shook her head hard, forcing the thought away. There was no room for hesitation. The Void had a job to finish.

  -

  Meanwhile, inside the warehouse, Kou sat alone on the narrow bed. A blanket draped over his shoulders, but it didn’t warm him. His hands hung limp at his sides, and his eyes—once soft and bright—had dimmed into lifeless glass.

  He stared at the floor without seeing it. His spirit was dead, now a living corpse.

  “…”

  There was no sound, no voice, no warmth. The room was as silent as the void inside his chest.

  If this was a spy movie, and he was the brave hero facing a powerful enemy, Kou knew what would happen. He’d collapse on the floor, waiting to be shot—or worse, begging to be shot. That’s how it would end.

  Everyone he knew left him.

  Everyone he trusted betrayed him.

  Everyone he once loved rejected him.

  There was no hope left to cling to.

  It was over.

  It was over.

  He tried to cry, but nothing came. Tears required willpower, and willpower required a reason to live—he had none left.

  Slowly, his feet carried him around the room, but he wasn’t searching for a way out. He was looking for something else. An exit from this world.

  If he could just find the right object, maybe when he woke up next, he’d wake somewhere else—a brighter world, a kinder one. A fantasy world, full of adventure and magic, where people would love him for who he was. A world where no one would ever leave.

  But the room was empty. There was nothing here to take him away.

  He stepped to the wall, resting his forehead against the cold surface. For a moment, he stood there, just breathing.

  Then he slammed his head back against the wall.

  Crack.

  Ouch.

  The sharp crack echoed, but pain meant nothing. Pain was proof he still existed, and that felt almost wrong.

  Again.

  And again.

  And again.

  The repeated impacts blurred his vision, but his body kept moving like a broken machine, obeying no logic, only instinct. His forehead reddened, then split open, a thin trickle of blood running down between his eyes.

  But he didn’t stop.

  Ten minutes passed. A zombie with a bleeding forehead, smashing against the wall like it was the only way to break through reality itself.

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