OP Absorption
Chapter 83: Signal

Chapter 83: Signal

The car moved with unnerving smoothness, the city lights outside blurring into meaningless streaks of colour through the tinted windows. Meg’s head throbbed, a dull counterpoint to the sharp, residual agony in her jaw and the sickening knowledge that her nose was definitely broken.

The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. She was wedged tightly between two of the suits in the back seat, their bulky shoulders pressing against hers, their silence as oppressive as their physical presence.

Her wrists were bound tightly behind her back with some kind of thin, flexible cord that dug painfully into her skin whenever she shifted.

She kept her eyes squeezed shut, partly against the throbbing pain, partly to block out the impassive faces of her captors. Fear was a cold knot in her stomach, tightening with every smooth mile the car devoured.

Association headquarters. Rowena. Fin. They’d taken her to get to him. What would they do to her? What would Fin do when he found out? The thought of his reaction, that cold fury she’d glimpsed before, was almost as terrifying as her current situation.

He’d told her not to worry. He’d promised. But she knew him. He wouldn’t just stand by. He’d come for her. And walking into the Association’s den... that was suicide, even for him, whatever he had become.

She subtly tested the restraints again, flexing her wrists against the unyielding cord. Nothing. It felt smooth, almost frictionless, but impossibly strong. Panic threatened to bubble up, hot and suffocating.

She forced it down, taking a slow, shallow breath that hitched painfully in her chest. Think. She needed to think.

Her eyes flickered open, scanning the interior of the car under lowered lashes. The suit driving, another in the passenger seat, the two flanking her. All silent. Watching the road, or staring straight ahead, faces like stone masks. Utterly professional. Utterly terrifying.

Her gaze drifted down to her left wrist, pressed painfully against the seatback by the binding. The watch. ’Press this if you’re ever in real trouble.’ His voice echoed faintly in her memory.

Real trouble. Yeah, this qualified.

Could she reach it? The button was small, on the side, hidden unless you knew it was there. Her hands were bound behind her. She shifted slightly, feigning discomfort from her injuries, trying to angle her left wrist against the firm edge of the seatback.

The suit beside her didn’t react, didn’t even glance her way. Good.

She tried again, arching her back slightly, pushing her bound hands downwards, straining to align the side of the watch with the seat edge. The movement sent a fresh wave of pain through her broken nose and jaw, making tears spring to her eyes. She bit back a whimper.

Just a little more. She needed to press it, hold it for a second. Was it even still working? Would Fin even get the signal? Was he even capable of receiving it anymore?

Doubt gnawed at her. But it was the only chance she had. The only way to warn him, to let him know, without giving these bastards the satisfaction of hearing her scream for him.

She took another shallow breath, gathering her strength, ignoring the throbbing pain, the fear, the despair. She focused on the feel of the watch case against the seat’s edge, visualizing the small button hidden there.

With a final, desperate surge of effort, ignoring the searing pain as the cords bit deeper, she pressed her wrist hard against the seatback.

There was no click, no beep, no confirmation that anything had happened. Just the grinding pain in her wrists and the sudden, sharp agony flaring behind her eyes as she pushed with everything she had.

For a heart-stopping moment, she thought it was useless, just another futile struggle against the inevitable. She slumped back against the seat, breath catching in a ragged sob, the effort leaving her trembling and dizzy.

The suit beside her shifted slightly, perhaps noticing her movement, but didn’t comment, his impassive gaze fixed forward.

---

The raw fury radiating from Fin was almost tangible, a physical weight pressing down on the immediate surroundings. Pedestrians instinctively gave him a wide berth, sensing the dangerous instability simmering beneath his unnervingly calm exterior, the shattered phone still clenched tight in his fist.

Shadows seemed to deepen around his feet, twisting like living things caught in the undertow of his rage. The air felt brittle, charged with unspoken violence.

Then, a subtle pulse against his skin. Not from the destroyed phone, but from the simple, unassuming watch on his left wrist – the twin to the one he’d given Meg. A specific pattern of faint light glowed beneath the scratched crystal face. Her distress signal.

He looked down, the swirling darkness in his eyes momentarily focusing. The watch face wasn’t blank; it displayed a miniature, glowing map, stark against the dark background. A single red dot pulsed on it, moving steadily along a major route leading out of Arclight, heading unmistakably towards Velerius. Towards the Association.

The unfocused, world-burning rage didn’t vanish, but it found a channel, coalescing instantly into something sharper, colder, infinitely more dangerous. The swirling vortexes in his eyes gained a terrifying clarity, locking onto the abstract representation of her location.

Saving her wasn’t just a priority; it was the only thing that mattered now. The bastards who took her... their reckoning could wait. A moment.

’Found you.’ The thought wasn’t verbalized, more a primal recognition, a predator sighting its quarry.

He didn’t waste a fraction of a second. No portal, no hesitation. He needed speed, raw and absolute. He glanced towards the city limits, towards the vector indicated on the watch map.

The ground beneath his feet didn’t just crack; it exploded outwards in a spray of pulverised concrete and displaced earth as dark energy erupted from him. He launched himself forward, a low-altitude missile clad in worn gear, becoming a black streak against the grey cityscape.

Buildings blurred into indistinct lines, traffic became stationary obstacles easily avoided, the sound barrier groaned and then shattered unnoticed behind him as he accelerated past physics, past reason, driven solely by the pulsing red dot on his wrist and the icy promise of what he would do to get her back.

Arclight dwindled behind him with impossible speed, the familiar urban sprawl giving way to the drab landscape beyond the walls. The watch display flickered, updating her position. Still moving. Still heading towards the Association’s den.

He pushed himself harder, faster, a shadow consuming the miles, a silent, vengeful comet hurtling towards an interception point known only to him.