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The underground safe-zone, "Haven-9," wasn't much more than repurposed steel bunkers and flickering lights. But for Elara, it was the closest thing to home she'd had in months.

She stood silently in the decontamination chamber, stripped of her gear, arms folded across her chest. The stale steam hissed around her, yet it was the silence that weighed heavier than the heat. Her eyes were empty, not with hopelessness—but calculation. Every face she saw might be a ghost tomorrow.

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