While waiting, Amira downloaded a custom software program from the dark web.
Connecting her phone to the laptop, she initiated a complex secure setup to mask the call's origin.
"Can't afford any slip-ups now," she muttered under her breath as the software loaded.
With the setup complete, she dialed a number she hadn't called in months. It rang twice before a familiar voice, soft yet commanding, picked up.
"Hello?"
"Be her life jacket," Amira said quietly, delivering the code phrase.
There was a moment of silence, as if the other person was processing her words. Then the voice sharpened, filled with a mix of relief and surprise.
"Line secured. Did they seriously let you make a call from detention?"
Amira let out a dry laugh. "No. I broke out."
The reaction was instant—a flurry of questions, disbelief, and anger.
"Are you out of your mind? Do you know how much effort we put into building your legal defense? We were gathering evidence, negotiating—"
It stopped abruptly, followed by a pause.
When the voice spoke again, it was more controlled, "What happened that made you do this?"
Amira's tone turned icy, "Let's just say nothing you could've done would've worked. Once the Federation sends someone there, it's a one-way ticket."
A frustrated sigh came through the line.
"You never change, do you? Straight to business, no room for explanations. Fine. What do you need?"
"Where are you?" Amira asked bluntly.
"Home. But you already knew that, didn't you?" The voice had a hint of a smirk.
Ignoring the sarcasm, Amira pressed on, "Can you leave without raising suspicion?"
"Yes, but I've only got a three-day window before people start asking questions."
"That's enough," Amira said, "I'll send you a list of supplies. Get them by tonight and store them in your jet. Make sure nothing is traceable."
"You're still the same stubborn woman I remember. What's your endgame?"
Amira paused, not willing to reveal everything just yet, "Is Bella with you?" she asked instead.
"Ducking my questions again, huh?" the voice grumbled, "No, but she'll be back tonight."
Amira nodded to herself.
"Good. Don't call me. Just bring Bella to Safe House-15 with the supplies. She'll know the location."
There was a moment of hesitation on the other end, "Bella's absence might raise some flags. She's still under surveillance, you know."
"She can handle a few days off the grid. You know how good she is," Amira replied confidently.
The voice softened, the hard edge melting away,"Just… be careful, okay?"
"You too," Amira said, then ended the call.
As the line disconnected, she felt a wave of relief.
She hadn't realized how tense she'd been. She took a deep breath, steadying herself.
The pieces were slowly coming together, but there was still a lot left to do.
Glancing back at the laptop, she noticed several replies from her unit members—loyal soldiers who had responded with the code: "Never missed."
A faint smile tugged at her lips. They were still out there, ready to fight.
Counting her last few bills, letting out a dry chuckle.
"Well, that's not much," she muttered to herself, folding the money into her pocket.
It wasn't enough for a proper meal, but it would have to do for now.
She pulled her hood up, hiding her face in its shadow, and stepped into the crowded street.
Her stomach growled, reminding her just how tight things had gotten.
Spotting a small clothing shop, she made her way inside. The window display showed cheap, basic clothing just what she needed.
After some spirited haggling, she left with a simple hoodie, a cap, and a plain dress for her meeting the next day.
As she pocketed the few remaining coins, the reality of her dwindling funds hit her hard.
Her next stop was a rundown clock repair shop she'd noticed earlier. From the outside, it looked like a relic from another era, its wooden sign faded and peeling.
The door creaked as she stepped inside, her footsteps muffled by layers of dust. The air was thick with the scent of rust and old metal.
She approached the counter and leaned in.
"I need a fake ID, some disguise gear, and a few specific herbs," she said quietly but firmly.
The clerk, a slouching man with droopy eyes, gave a slight nod before disappearing into the back.
Her gaze wandered around the shop, taking in the sight of mismatched clocks ticking out of sync; a strange, offbeat rhythm that was somehow both unsettling and soothing.
The clerk returned and motioned her toward a back door.
As she stepped through, she was surprised by what she saw—a sleek, modern room with polished floors and bright lights that felt worlds apart from the shabby front.
An older man with sharp eyes approached, flashing a sly grin.
"What can we do for you, miss?" he asked.
"Everything I mentioned," she replied bluntly, "The ID, disguise gear, and the herbs."
He nodded and jotted down some notes.
"ID will take a few hours. We can deliver it wherever you want. You can try on the disguise now for the photo, and the herbs will be ready in about half an hour. But they'll cost you."
"Money's not an issue," she said, her voice firm, "Just make sure it's done right."
The old man led her to a small changing area, where a young woman with a disinterested expression helped her pick a new look.
After trying a few options, and settling on a short black wig, glasses, and some light makeup just enough to alter her appearance.
The photo was taken quickly, and the man returned with a few high-tech gadgets: a voice modulator, a face mask, and a compact stun baton.
Satisfied, she made the payment online and asked for the remaining balance in cash.
"Deliver the ID here," she said, handing over a scrap of paper with a hastily scribbled address.
Making it back to her hotel just before dusk, tossing the bundle of cash onto the small table by the window.
It wasn't much, but it would get her by for a few more days.
Her whole body ached from the day's work, and the relentless stress of the past week was starting to catch up with her.
She moved toward the bathroom, setting the water to run hot.
Steam began to rise, clouding the mirror and offering a brief, welcome moment of solitude.
She carefully unpacked a bundle of herbs and pulled out a small vial of beast blood, her hand steady despite the anticipation building inside her.
Alex's voice echoed in her mind:
"Add the herbs in the right order, and pour in exactly one-third of the blood, slowly."
With a deep breath, she followed the instructions, watching as the water turned a murky red.
The air filled with a thick, earthy scent mixed with the sharp metallic tang of the blood.
She winced it wasn't pleasant, but she knew it was necessary if she wanted to regain her strength.
She stripped off her clothes, catching her reflection in the foggy mirror lean, strong, and marked by faint scars from countless battles.
She stepped into the tub, letting the hot water engulf her body.
At first, the mixture was uncomfortable, but within moments, the discomfort turned into a sharp, burning pain, like her skin was being flayed inch by inch.
Her muscles began to spasm, and a shudder ran through her body. Instinct urged her to get out, to escape the agony.
"If you want the full benefits, you have to endure for at least 30 minutes," Alex had warned.
She gritted her teeth, refusing to let the pain win.
Her knuckles went white as she gripped the edge of the tub, her breath coming in ragged, strained gasps.
Sweat dripped from her forehead, mixing with the darkening water below.
"Damn you, Alex," she muttered, voice tight with pain.
Her vision blurred at the edges as the pain grew fiercer, the water now a pitch-black, reeking as impurities were drawn from her body.
At 25 minutes, her skin had shifted from red to a deep, alarming purple. Her consciousness flickered, threatening to slip away.
But She was stubborn, if nothing else. Through sheer willpower, she forced herself to stay focused, counting down the last few seconds in her head.
Finally, the searing pain began to fade, replaced by a strange, heavy numbness.
At exactly the 30-minute mark, she stood, legs shaky but spirit unbroken.
"Finally," she exhaled, her voice raspy.
She stepped out of the tub, turning the shower on to wash away the dark residue that clung to her skin.
The water swirled down the drain in inky streaks.
As she dried off and faced the mirror, she noticed her skin looked smoother, paler, and some of the lighter scars had completely vanished.
Only a few of the deeper ones remained, but she knew another treatment or two would take care of them.
She flexed her muscles, feeling a new density in her arms and legs, a raw strength coursing through her veins.
With a wry grin, she muttered to herself,
"Well, that wasn't so bad," though she knew it had been pure hell.
Dressed in clean clothes, she stretched again, savoring the strength that surged within her.
For the first time in days, she felt a flicker of hope.
The path ahead was still treacherous, but she was better equipped to face it now.
"One step closer," she whispered, her voice a mix of determination and exhaustion.