Fated Love part 2

Lucía didn't sleep that night.

Nor did she try. She sat on the edge of her bed for hours, legs crossed and hands clasped together, staring at her closed bedroom door, as if she expected something-someone-to burst through at any moment.

The recycled air smelled of ozone and metal. That characteristic smell of sealed spaces, where even silence felt artificial. The clock read 2:58. Her tablet screen was still on, projecting an incomplete code onto her desktop. Nothing more than an excuse to distract herself, to feel like she still had control.

But she didn't. Not for weeks. Or maybe ever.

Bruno slept two modules away, probably oblivious to the decision she had silently made. She had promised him she would wait, that she would stick to the plan. That she wouldn't make any reckless moves. But deep down, she knew that was a lie. Or worse: a betrayal disguised as a strategy.

But this time, it wasn't about tactics.

It wasn't a mission.

It was personal.

Lucia stood up when the internal timer reached the ideal cycle. She knew the security cameras in the eastbound corridor had a micro-focus interruption during the 3:40 maintenance protocols. A technical detail that seemed irrelevant to anyone... except someone who'd been searching for cracks for weeks.

She moved quickly, as she'd trained for years: measured steps, neutral face, straight back. Functional clothing, unmarked. She pulled her hair back into a high braid and stuffed a microdevice into the inside pocket of her left boot, just below the ankle. Everything was measured. Everything except the irregular acceleration of her heart.

As she walked, she mentally reviewed the phrase she would repeat if she were intercepted: "Backup protocols review, code OR-17, area Omega." She had the proper clearance. One she'd forged days ago with temporary access. Clean enough to pass a cursory scan. Dirty enough to become incriminating if someone looked closely.

The elevator to Omega Level took eleven seconds to activate. Enough to make her regret it. Enough to escape.

But she didn't.

The data backup room was empty, as she expected. Low lighting, anodized steel walls, a secondary console on standby. The interface flickered pale blue. There was something unsettling about the silence in that room. As if the entire system was holding its breath.

Lucía plugged in the device and waited. The file began transferring: manipulated access patterns, internal traffic diversions, circumstantial evidence of a plot that still had no name... but did have a face.

Hers.

Bruno's.

The faces of everyone who had ever thought they could love without paying the price.

"Upload in progress: 34%," she read on the screen, softly, almost like a prayer.

She felt a pulse in her fingers. At the base of her neck. At her temples.

Breathe. Stay in control.

"It's for us," she thought. But at the same time, she knew that wasn't true anymore.

She was doing it for her.

For the Lucía who ceased to exist the day she agreed to be part of a system that promised stability in exchange for silence. For the young woman who once dreamed of making a difference. And for the woman who now understood that surviving wasn't the same as living.

"You know, if you do this, there's no going back."

The voice wasn't a gunshot. It was a thunderous roar. As if she'd been expecting to hear it.

Lucía turned slowly. She knew it before she saw him.

Julián Iriarte.

He was leaning against the doorframe, unarmed, without direct accusation. Just watching her with that almost clinical expression, as if she were a phenomenon to be studied. There was something in his posture that wasn't threatening, but neither was it comforting.

It was a warning.

"I crossed the line a long time ago," Lucía replied, with a serenity she didn't feel.

Julián didn't move.

"I thought he'd be the one to do it first."

Lucía said nothing.