POV: Mia (Zero)
The morning routine went unchanged.
Lights up at 0700. Cold protein rations delivered through a slot in the wall. Guard rotation every two hours. I ate half my portion, chewed the rest and tucked it under my cot—out of sight. Everything had to look normal.
Because if they suspected me, the Broker would lock me down.
And I wouldn’t get another chance.
By 1000 hours, the hallways quieted. The next system recycle wouldn’t hit until 1140. That gave me ninety minutes to plan.
To move.
To burn.
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I found the vent panel again by pretending to clean up the water I’d “spilled.” My eyes tracked every camera. I knew how they worked. I used to study them on my first training runs, plotting angles and blind spots. Some things your body never forgets.
I cracked the panel open
