The old, crickety elevator shudders to a stop, the doors creaking open with a groan. Standing in front of us, with an air of smug confidence, is Viper.
"Good morning to you two," he greets, not even bothering to look up from the sleek, high-end smartphone in his hand. Fancy. Even he has one now, huh? Looks like his new boss is treating him better than I expected.
Viper finally tucks the phone into his inner pocket with a practiced ease and glances at us. "Ready?"
"Yeah," Tristan replies, his voice steady.
"Great," Viper says, slinging an arm around Tristan's shoulders with a casual familiarity that feels out of place. "Unlike this guy here," he adds, jerking his chin toward me, "you're smart. We're leaving this dreadful place." His tone is almost jubilant, a stark contrast to the grim reality of Sector Z.
Then he turns to me, his expression shifting to something unreadable. "Daelan."
He holds out a small piece of paper.
"This is my number," he says, his tone almost casual. I want to refuse, every instinct screaming at me to not take anything from him, but my hand moves on its own, snatching the slip of paper before I can stop myself.
"And this," he continues, pulling out a small rolled parchment that fits neatly in the palm of his hand, "is a teleportation scroll. One-time use. It'll bring me to your location—dungeon or not. So think about it wisely. It's a last gift from my boss."
He presses the scroll into my hand, the weight of it far heavier than it should be.
"You can also send a message through Ambrose," Viper adds, stepping back. "They know about you."
He pauses, giving me one last unreadable look before he turns his attention back to Tristan. "Goodbye," he says simply, pulling Tristan into the bustling crowd with him.
I watch as they disappear, swallowed by the chaos of the streets. For a moment, the noise and movement around me fade, leaving me standing alone with the paper and scroll in my hand.
***
My heart is racing, pounding so hard in my chest it feels like it might break free. I can't believe it—I'm finally leaving Sector Z. Most people don't. They die there, or worse, waste away long before they reach adulthood. But here I am, in a sleek, comfortable car that's nothing like the rusted heaps that litter the streets of Sector Z.
I fidget with my fingers, unable to keep still. My nerves are shot, excitement and unease battling for dominance. My eyes drift to the front of the car, where Viper is talking animatedly with someone.
The woman beside him takes my breath away. She's beautiful—no, beyond beautiful. Even the highest-class escorts wouldn't hold a candle to her. Her presence commands attention, an aura of cold authority radiating from her. Her sharp, ice-blue eyes seem to pierce through everything she looks at, and her long black hair, tied in a sleek ponytail, glints under the sunlight. She's dressed in a pristine white outfit that's somewhere between a pantsuit and fancy attire, tailored to perfection. Her lips are painted a bold red, adding an edge to her otherwise frosty demeanor.
The air in the car feels colder, a chill brushing against my skin. Ice ability user. Has to be. I honestly thought someone with this much power and influence would be old—like really old. But I stand corrected.
Daelan really missed out. I can't help but think how different our lives would've been two months ago if he'd just met her. She's not just beautiful—she's powerful and rich. All Daelan has going for him is his looks, and let's be honest, looks don't go far in Sector Z most times but sometimes they do. Like now, he would have left sector Z thanks to that.
I turn my attention to the window, my fingers still fidgeting. The car glides smoothly through the massive iron gates, and I can't help but press my face closer to the glass. As we pass through, the shift is immediate. The air is cleaner, lighter, like I can finally take a proper breath. The buildings are taller, sturdier, and the streets aren't cracked and littered with debris.
This is Sector 8. I've dreamed about this moment for years, but now that it's here, it feels surreal. I've actually left Sector Z.
"So, Tristan," the woman's voice pulls me from my thoughts. It's cool, measured, but there's something sharp about it. "What are your plans?"
I blink, realizing she's looking at me. Her eyes, cold and calculating, rake over me like I'm something she's assessing—an object she's trying to assign value to.
"Uh…" My throat is dry, and I clear it quickly. "I haven't thought about it much. Probably work as a waiter or servant somewhere." I try to sound casual, but I can't help the edge of uncertainty in my voice. Honestly, I'd just be grateful to land somewhere safe—maybe Sector D, if I'm lucky, I've heard even servants there make minimum wage and can afford food and shelter. Amazing.
She shares a look with Viper, something silent but clear passing between them.
"That won't do," she says finally, her tone leaving no room for argument. "You're far too talented to waste away like that."
Her words hang in the air, heavy and loaded with meaning. I don't know what she sees in me, but it's clear she's already decided on something. My stomach twists, a mix of hope and fear churning inside me. Whatever she has planned, it's going to change my life—and there's no turning back.