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The warehouse on I-70 stood hollow and humming, wrapped in rust and dead air. Midnight had swallowed the city whole. And still, Hayamei stood waiting in the dark like she belonged to it.
Ghost was already inside.
She could feel him—heart steady, breath slow, the kind of calm that only killers and survivors learn to live inside.
The metal door behind her slammed shut.
Zora stepped through the smoke like a wound dressed in black.
"You wanted my attention," Zora said, her voice low. "You got it."
Hayamei didn't flinch.
"Where's Na'Nami?"
Zora smirked. "Safe. For now."
Hayamei reached into her jacket and tossed a flash drive onto the floor.
"Every name you've sold to our father. Every drop of blood you helped him spill. Every time you smiled after."
Zora's jaw clenched. "You think this is justice?"
"No," Hayamei whispered. "This is balance."
⸻
From the shadows above, Ghost watched, sniper trained on Zora's shoulder—not her heart. Not yet.
But his finger hovered.
Because the second Zora reached for her gun—
He'd shoot.
He wasn't doing this for Hayamei. Not for their past. Not even for Na'Nami.
He was doing this for himself.
⸻
Zora tilted her head, almost impressed. "You think people like us get clean endings?"
"I don't believe in clean," Hayamei said. "I believe in done."
Zora's hand inched toward her belt. Hayamei didn't move. Ghost's breath caught.
Then—
A second gun cocked.
Not Zora's.
Not Ghost's.
Behind Zora, another figure stepped out of the dark.
Aiyana.
And her gun was pointed straight at Zora's back.
⸻
"Don't," Aiyana said, voice shaking. "She's right. This ends now."
Zora froze.
"You're gonna betray me?" she hissed. "For her?"
Aiyana's eyes glistened. "No. I'm doing this for me."
She tossed a burner at Hayamei's feet.
"Everything our father did. The labs. The bodies. The surveillance. He used all of us."
