Rogue's pulse was racing as she waited under the console, her heart beating so loudly in her ears that she almost didn't hear the chime of the door. It took all of her years of meditative practice to keep her breathing calm and quiet so she could hear what was finally said after the door opened.

It didn't sound like a soldier, the voice too upbeat for someone to have noticed her presence and already be on the hunt for her, but she still didn't trust it. Even in the silence that followed the short exchange, she stayed right where she was, body tensed and ready to lash out if a threat appeared. It could be a trap, after all. Years of hiding from the soldiers and running from the sentinels had turned her into a soldier herself, and even after three years of being held prisoner in her own home, those instincts hadn't faded.