Charles didn’t move immediately.

Don’s hand was right there—steady, extended, waiting.

For a fraction of a second, Charles just stared at it, breath uneven, body still recovering from the impact and the strain of the last exchange.

His wing twitched slightly, pain still lingering where it had taken the worst of it.

Then he grabbed it.

Firm.

Don pulled.

Charles rose in one motion, boots scraping briefly against the fractured floor—

SKRR—~

—and steadied himself.

The woman didn’t wait.

The moment she saw them upright—saw Don holding the child—something in her snapped.

Her eyes widened, body lurching forward as her voice broke apart completely.

"My child!!"

She tried to push past Charles, hands reaching, fingers trembling violently as she struggled to close the distance.

Charles caught her.

Held her.

Firm enough to stop her without throwing her off balance.

Don adjusted his hold on the child, bringing him closer to his chest, one arm supporting the small frame more securely.

His voice came out controlled, even if his breathing hadn’t fully settled.

"He’s fine," he said, eyes flicking toward her only briefly. "But we need to get to the roof and get him the help he needs."

Charles nodded, jaw tight as he kept the woman from breaking forward.

"I understand you’re scared," he said, voice steady despite the strain still in it as well, "but trust us on this. We need to keep moving, now."

He didn’t wait for agreement.

He lifted her again, securing her against him before turning toward the stairwell he had been heading for.

Don moved first.

"I’ll move ahead for now. Let’s go."

He stepped past Charles as he spoke, already shifting into motion.

The augmented overlay guided his path cleanly, directions updating in real time as he entered the stairwell and pushed upward.

His pace was fast—

But controlled.

Every step timed carefully.

Too much speed, and the child would take the impact.

Too much distance, and Charles would fall behind.

So he held it there.

Tight.

Balanced.

Behind him, Charles followed, wings partially tucked to navigate the confined space as he carried the woman.

Her sobs didn’t stop. They came in uneven bursts against his shoulder, hands clutching at his suit as if letting go meant losing everything.

"Don."

Winter’s voice cut in.

"You have decreased your pace by a considerable margin. Your time of arrival will change."

Don didn’t respond.

He already knew.

"The UPSDF draws near," Winter continued, tone unchanged. "Should they identify this tower as a concentrated threat zone, they may prioritize it for engagement. The weaponry deployed may be... unfavorable to your continued survival."

Elle followed immediately after.

"Don, there’s no need to save anyone else but yourself. You need to get out of there now—"

Don’s head turned.

Sharp.

Left.

Something—

A sound.

Low.

Barely there.

Not enough for normal hearing.

But enough.

The stairwell walls, polished and intact just seconds ago, carried it—a faint disturbance beneath the surface.

A scrape.

Thin.

Wrong in the very worst way.

SCRR—~

His eyes narrowed.

Then widened.

The wall—

Moved.

Not outward.

Inward.

Something pierced through.

Small at first.

Black.

Narrow.

A point.

The tip of it pushed through the material, cracking the surface around it as it forced its way in.

Don’s lips parted.

"...—"

He didn’t get the word out.

It didn’t stay small.

CRRRAAASH—!!

The wall gave.

Not just where he was looking— 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

Everywhere.

Multiple points burst through at once, the structure fracturing as the infected woman’s hair drove into the stairwell in violent, spiked formations.

The material didn’t just break—it was torn apart, chunks of reinforced paneling exploding inward as the strands forced their way through from multiple angles.

Behind him—

Beside him—

Between him and Charles—

The spikes erupted.

THK—! THK—! KRRRSH—!!

They punched through the narrow space with brutal force, carving through the stairwell and collapsing sections of the opposite wall as they drove across the confined area.

There was nowhere clean to move.

Don reacted.

Instinct.

His body shifted toward the far side, boots pushing off the steps as he tried to create even a fraction of space away from the initial breach.

It barely mattered.

The stairwell was too tight.

Too enclosed.

The spikes filled it.

He looked down—

Then back—

Just enough.

His eyes lit faintly at the edges—

Blue.

The air around the incoming spikes tightened instantly.

They stopped.

Not all.

Not even most.

Only the ones that mattered.

The ones aimed directly at him—

At Charles—

Those froze mid-motion, trembling under the force pushing against them.

The rest—

Didn’t stop.

They slammed through.

CRRRAASH—!!

The opposite wall shattered under the impact, debris blasting outward as the spikes punched through and embedded deep into the structure beyond.

The entire stairwell shook under the force, fragments raining down from above as dust filled the space rapidly.

FRRSH—~

The air thickened instantly.

Visibility dropped.

Charles’ voice cut through it.

"Don! Are you okay?!"

Don coughed once, irritation in the sound as he waved dust from his face.

"I’m alri—"

He stopped.

Mid-sentence.

His tone cut.

Gone.

Charles noticed immediately.

His grip on the woman tightened slightly as his gaze shifted forward, trying to see through the settling dust.

And then—

He did.

Don stood a few steps ahead.

Still.

Not looking at him.

Looking down.

At the child.

For a moment—

Nothing made sense.

Then it did.

A single strand.

Thin.

Precise.

It had slipped through.

Not toward Don.

Not toward Charles.

Toward the space between.

Toward the child.

The head—

Tilted slightly during the movement.

Just enough.

The spike had pierced clean through.

Through the small skull.

Through the wall behind.

THK—~

The body hung there for a second—

Then went slack.

Completely.

No movement.

No sound.

Don didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

His eyes stayed locked on it, something in them shifting—not outward, not explosive—just... stopping.

He had been sure.

Certain.

He had covered it.

But in that moment—

In that tight space—

With too many angles—

Too little time—

He hadn’t controlled everything.

And it only took one.

Behind him—

Charles didn’t speak.

Didn’t move.

Fragments of wall and concrete slid down broken edges, tapping against the steps below in uneven drops—

tik... tik... tik—~

Charles stood still.

His chest rose once, then again, slower this time as his eyes fixed forward—locked onto Don.

Then—

Shifted.

To the child.

His eyes widened again, but this time they didn’t recover.

Didn’t sharpen.

They stayed there.

Unsteady.

The small body hung for just a moment longer, pinned in place by that thin strand.

Blood traced a slow line downward from the wound, slipping along the curve of the boy’s face before dripping to the floor beneath—

...tap—

...tap—~

Each drop too loud in the confined space.

The woman—

Still in Charles’s hold—

Didn’t react immediately.

Her body trembled, breath breaking apart as a harsh cough tore out of her, her head bowed slightly as her eyes stayed shut tight.

Her fingers clutched weakly at Charles’s suit, knuckles pale, her voice caught somewhere between a sob and something that couldn’t fully form.

She hadn’t seen it.

Not yet.

Don didn’t look at her.

Didn’t look at Charles.

His gaze shifted.

Forward.

Toward the ruined wall.

Beyond it—

The female infected hovered.