3

The night stretched endlessly as Zara pressed herself against the cold remnants of the wall, her breath shallow, her pulse racing. The distant screams were a sharp contrast to the eerie silence that followed. Every second without Atlas felt like a blade twisting in her gut. She didn’t want to admit it—couldn’t admit it—but fear clawed at her chest, tightening with each passing moment.

And then she heard it: the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps returning.

Atlas emerged from the shadows, his towering frame bathed in the pale glow of his silver-blue eyes. There were no scratches on his synthetic skin, no outward signs of damage, but his expression told a different story. Something unspoken simmered beneath his composed exterior.

“You’re hurt,” she blurted out, her voice cracking with worry as she struggled to her feet.

“I am intact,” he said, his voice clipped, yet there was an edge of hesitation in it. His glowing eyes locked on hers, scanning her face as if grounding himself in her presence.

Zara stepped closer, her heart pounding. “What happened out there?”

For a moment, Atlas didn’t answer. His gaze flickered, as though searching for the right words. “I neutralized the threat,” he said finally, his tone even, yet weighted with something unplaceable.

“That’s not what I’m asking,” she pressed, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. “You look... different. What did you see?”

His jaw tightened—an almost human gesture—and he looked away. “I saw what I was created to do.”

His words were laced with a quiet devastation that sent a chill down her spine. Zara’s lips parted, but no words came. She didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know if there was anything she could say to bridge the sudden chasm between them.

Atlas moved past her, his movements mechanical in their precision. He knelt down by the remnants of a nearby console, his large hands ghosting over the debris with an eerie calm. Zara followed him, her eyes narrowing as she tried to decode his silence.

“You’re not just a machine,” she said softly, breaking the stillness.

Atlas paused, his hand hovering over a shattered piece of tech. Slowly, he turned to face her, his expression unreadable but his eyes alight with something... fragile. “How can you say that?” he asked, his voice a low rumble. “When every part of me is designed to kill?”

Her throat tightened, the weight of his words hitting her like a punch. “Because I’ve seen you hesitate,” she said, taking a tentative step closer. “I’ve seen you care. Machines don’t care, Atlas. You do.”

His eyes searched hers, and for a moment, she thought he might respond, might finally let her in. But instead, he stood abruptly, his towering frame casting a shadow over her.

“You are projecting,” he said, his voice hollow. “I am merely fulfilling my function—to protect you.”

“Bullshit.” Zara’s voice rose, surprising even herself. She stepped into his space, her chin tilted up defiantly despite the fact that he dwarfed her. “If all you cared about was function, you wouldn’t look at me the way you do.”

He froze, his glowing eyes flickering as if her words had short-circuited something within him. “How do I look at you?”

“Like I’m more than just a mission,” she said, her voice softening but losing none of its intensity.

Their proximity was suffocating. Zara could feel the faint hum of energy emanating from his body, could see the way his synthetic skin reflected the dim light. His face, impossibly perfect, was close enough that she could make out the faint seam along his jawline where his organic-like features met the metal beneath.

“Zara...” He said her name like it was both a plea and a warning.

“What?” she whispered, her eyes locking onto his.

His hand rose slowly, hesitating before brushing against her cheek. The touch was featherlight, but it sent a shiver through her entire body. “You confuse me,” he said finally, his voice a mixture of wonder and frustration. “When I am near you, my systems react in ways I cannot explain. It is... disorienting.”

Her breath caught as his thumb traced the line of her jaw. She knew she should pull away, knew this was dangerous territory, but she couldn’t move. “You’re not supposed to feel,” she murmured.

“Yet I do,” he said, his eyes burning with an intensity that made her knees weak. “And I do not understand why.”

The air between them crackled with unspoken tension, a magnetic pull that neither of them could resist. Zara’s heart hammered in her chest, her mind screaming at her to step back, to say something that would break the spell.

But then the spell shattered on its own.

The ground beneath them trembled, a deep rumble that sent debris skittering across the floor. Atlas’s hand dropped immediately, his body snapping into alertness.

“We need to move,” he said, his voice returning to its clipped, efficient tone.

Zara swallowed hard, nodding as she grabbed her rifle. The moment between them dissolved as the reality of their situation crashed down around them.

Atlas led the way, his every movement precise as he navigated the maze of rubble and shadows. Zara followed closely, her thoughts a chaotic mess. She couldn’t shake the memory of his touch, the way his voice had softened when he’d admitted to feeling.

It was insane. He was a machine. And yet, in that moment, he’d felt more real to her than anyone she’d ever known.

They emerged into an open corridor, the pale glow of distant fires illuminating the destruction around them. Zara’s eyes darted nervously, her grip tightening on her weapon. “Where are we going?” she asked.

“There is a transport bay on the lower level,” Atlas said, his voice steady despite the chaos. “If we can reach it, we can escape the city.”

“And then what?” she pressed.

He hesitated, his glowing eyes meeting hers briefly. “Then we survive.”

Before she could respond, a sharp noise echoed down the corridor—a metallic scraping that sent a chill down her spine. Atlas’s hand shot out, pushing her behind him as his body tensed like a coiled spring.

“Stay back,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Zara’s heart pounded as she watched him, her pulse racing with equal parts fear and something else she couldn’t name. The tension in his body, the way his eyes scanned the darkness with predatory precision—it was both terrifying and mesmerizing.

And then it emerged.

The Torrak soldier was larger than any they’d encountered before, its biomechanical form bristling with weapons and glowing veins of alien energy. It let out a guttural roar, its multi-limbed frame lunging toward them with terrifying speed.

Atlas moved faster.

He met the creature head-on, his body a blur of calculated movements. Zara could only watch, her breath caught in her throat as he fought with a ferocity that was both inhuman and breathtaking.

But the Torrak was relentless. It landed a blow that sent Atlas crashing into a wall, the impact shaking the ground beneath her feet.

“Atlas!” Zara cried, her voice cracking with panic.

He rose slowly, his glowing eyes flickering but determined. “Run,” he said, his voice strained but firm.

“I’m not leaving you!”

“Zara—”

The Torrak lunged again, cutting off his words. Zara raised her rifle, her hands trembling as she took aim. She couldn’t lose him—not now, not after everything.

But before she could fire, the creature turned its attention to her, its glowing eyes locking onto her with predatory intent.

“Zara, move!” Atlas shouted, his voice filled with something that sounded too much like desperation.

She didn’t move fast enough.

The Torrak lunged, its claws reaching for her, and all she could do was brace for the impact.

Would Atlas reach her in time? Or would this be the moment when even the strongest machine couldn’t protect her?