The soft murmur of rain against the windows filled the room, a rhythmic lull that did little to ease the storm brewing within. Aurora stood by the glass, her fingers tracing the faint condensation on the pane. The dim light of the early morning cast long shadows across the room, and despite the softness of the moment, a sense of foreboding lingered in the air. The storm outside mirrored the one inside her heartâa quiet tempest, powerful in its restraint.Damien stood just a few feet away, his gaze fixed on something unseen, his expression distant. The weight of what they had discovered weighed heavily on him, as it did on her. But it wasnât just the revelation of the clones, or Monroeâs twisted experiments. It was the fearâthe uncertainty of what this meant for them. For their future. How much had Damien been changed by everything he had learned? And how much of that change had already begun to stretch its dark tendrils into their relationship?She knew he was struggling. His silence
The quiet hum of the city beyond the windows was a constant reminder of how much had changed. Once, the world outside had seemed like a distant, almost irrelevant force to Damien. His focus had been on survival, on the missionâwhatever that had meant at any given moment. But now, the hum of normal life felt like a harsh contrast to the chaos still simmering in the corners of his life.Damien stood by the window in the quiet of the early morning, his fingers lightly tracing the cool glass. His mind was far from the world outside. No, his thoughts were consumed with the girl he loved, the twisted legacy of Monroe, and the road that still stretched ahead.Aurora slept in the other room, the soft rise and fall of her chest a reminder that, for the first time in a long while, there was something worth fighting for. His gaze flickered over the city below, but he could barely make out the distant streets. The world beyond felt blurry, like everything was veiled in a haze. Maybe it was just h
The sound of the helicopter blades sliced through the heavy silence that had settled over them. The cold mountain air rushed in through the cracked windows as Damien stared out at the darkening sky. His thoughts were a jumble, every instinct screaming that something was off. There was too much at stake nowâtoo much to lose.Aurora sat beside him, her body tense, eyes scanning the rapidly approaching mountainside below. She hadnât spoken much since they left the apartment, and Damien could feel the weight of her silence pressing on him. It wasnât the quiet of contemplation. It was the silence of someone holding something back. He could see it in the set of her jaw, the way her fingers gripped the seat.For a moment, the only sound in the helicopter was the hum of the engine, and then Julianâs voice broke the stillness. âWeâre fifteen minutes out. Keep your eyes peeled. This place is off the gridâcompletely untraceable unless you have the right tools.âDamien nodded, his eyes never leav
The room fell into a deafening silence as the flickering screen bathed Damienâs face in a sickly green glow. The image of his motherâEveâstared back at him from the monitor, her features carefully reconstructed from footage and records. It wasnât a live feed. It wasnât really her. But the expression, the voiceâit struck him with the force of a bullet.Aurora took a step closer, her hand brushing against Damienâs arm. He flinched at the contact, his eyes locked on the screen. She didnât pull away.âDamienâĶâ she said softly, uncertain if she should say more.But the screen spoke again, overriding her. âYouâve become everything I feared you would. Everything Monroe promised yo
The makeshift war room inside the crumbling facility buzzed with quiet tension. Terminals flickered as Julian and Kira coordinated with their external networks. A map of the world lit up before them, glowing red dots pulsing across continents—every point marking an active Monroe site, every pulse a countdown.Forty-eight hours.Forty-eight hours until all of Monroe’s sleeper facilities would trigger whatever version of the clone protocol he’d perfected.Forty-eight hours until everything Damien had fought to bury would claw its way back into the light.He sat on the edge of a rusted cot near the far wall, away from the noise, elbows resting on his knees, head low. His mind replayed the voice from earlier—his mo
The night sky stretched above them like a living thing—vast, starless, and full of tension. A bitter wind howled through the mountain pass as the convoy moved in near silence. Snow crunched under the tires of the armored vehicle Damien rode in, his eyes fixed ahead through the windshield.The coordinates they’d extracted led them to the Carpathians—a remote and treacherous range in Romania. Fitting, Damien thought. Monroe’s obsession with rebirth and myth had always leaned into the theatrical.And now they were heading straight into the heart of it.Inside the vehicle, the only sounds were the low hum of the engine and the rustle of gear. Julian sat beside Kira, reviewing surveillance feeds on his tablet. Behind them, Aurora sat opposite Damien, her gaze fixed o
The sound of the gunshot cracked through the cavern like thunder.Monroe’s body jerked back, blood blooming across his chest as he crumpled to the floor beside the pod. Silence followed, not triumphant—but taut, like the moment before a storm breaks.Damien didn’t lower his weapon.The others froze, waiting—watching. But Monroe didn’t move. His eyes were wide open, the smug smile finally erased from his face. The man who had haunted Damien’s entire life, who had orchestrated pain with the precision of a surgeon, now lay motionless in a widening pool of crimson.And yet, the hum of the chamber didn’t stop.Aurora stepped forward, her voice low.
The wind whispered through the ruins.Ash floated like snowflakes across the mountaintop, softening the jagged scars left by the Vault’s collapse. Where once a hidden stronghold pulsed with synthetic power, there was now only silence and smoke. The earth had reclaimed what had been stolen.Damien sat at the edge of the cliff, a blanket draped over his shoulders. His wounds were mostly bandaged, but the tremors in his hands hadn’t stopped since the Vault fell. The neural link had left its imprint—somewhere deeper than skin.Behind him, Aurora stood quietly, arms crossed against the mountain cold. She didn’t speak, didn’t try to console. She just stayed, close enough to be an anchor, far enough to give him space.
Silence pressed against their ears as they approached the lowest chamber. The air was heavier hereâthick with ozone and dread, as if the facility itself exhaled the weight of its own malice. Damienâs flashlight beam danced across the walls, revealing veins of circuitry pulsing beneath steel plates. Each step echoed like a verdict.Auroraâs grip on her rifle tightened. âThis corridor leads straight to the core. Seraph must be close.âAsher flanked Damienâs other side, unblinking in the dim light. Though forged in Monroeâs broken crucible, the boyâs courage was pureâa reminder that hope could grow from ashes.Nullâs voice crackled in their earpieces. âIâm seeing systems coming back online. Ten minutes before full lockdown. We need to move.âElias checked his watch. âUnderstood.âThey rounded the final corner and stopped.A vaulted chamber yawned before them. In its center, illuminated by a ring of harsh white light, stood Seraph. Taller than a child but smaller than an adult, she was fr
The silence grew heavier the deeper they went.Nullâs map guided them through a maze of subterranean hallsâsome cold and sterile, others torn by time and disuse. The smooth hum of generators still echoed in places, interspersed by flickering emergency lights that bathed the world in sickly red pulses.Damien led the way with Aurora and Asher close at his heels. The boy in the containment pod had given them everythingâcoordinates, access routes, and warnings. Seraph wasnât like Daemon or Omega.He was worse.âBio-signature locked,â Null murmured, eyes on the scanner as they reached another sealed door. âThereâs something down there. No readable vitals, but movementâĶ constant. Pacing, almost.ââHeâs waiting,â Aurora said.Asherâs small voice cut in, soft but certain. âHe doesnât think. He reacts. He was made to becomeâĶ everything they wanted me to be.âDamien knelt beside him. âYou donât have to face this.âAsher looked up. âI do. If we donât stop him, heâll come for us. For others.âAu
The elevator doors closed with a reluctant groan, sealing them in.Inside the narrow shaft, the only light came from their tactical gearâsoft glows against skin and metal. Aurora stood beside Damien, her hand brushing against his, an anchor in the silence. Asher stood between them, staring straight ahead, lips pressed into a thin, focused line.The descent felt longer than it should have. As if the very walls were stretching around themâpreparing to swallow them whole.Then the lift jolted to a stop.A hiss of depressurization followed. The doors slid open with a groan, revealing a corridor bathed in cold white light. Clean. Too clean. The sterile scent of disinfectant and ozone clung to the air like a ghost.âThis is it,â Null said quietly. âThe Core Lab.âThey stepped out as one.Unlike the upper floors, this level was pristine. Not abandoned. Not even neglected. Lights functioned. Doors responded to biometric scans. Cameras followed their every move, some still tracking with soft c
The sun dipped low, setting fire to the horizon in hues of crimson and ash. From the ridge above the temporary camp, Damien stood alone, watching shadows stretch over the forest like fingers reaching for something they could never quite hold.Below him, the others prepared in near silence. The kind of silence that didnât come from fearâbut from knowing. From understanding just how close they were to the end.The wind curled around him, carrying the scent of pine and steel and something colder. A storm was coming. Not of weatherâbut of reckoning.âYou always find the highest place when you need to think.âHe didnât turn. He didnât need to.Auroraâs voice always settled beneath his skin like a familiar humâgentle and steady.She stepped up beside him, hands tucked into the sleeves of her jacket, her gaze following his to the horizon.âYou used to be quieter,â he said. âBefore all this.ââI used to have more to be afraid of,â she replied, half-smiling. âNow I just have more to lose.âHe
The boy didn’t speak of the dream again.But something in him shifted after that night. His steps were a little steadier. His gaze no longer darted to the exits first. He stayed near Damien, yes, but not like a shadow clinging to light. Now, it felt like a tether, an anchor—not dependence, but choice.Damien noticed it when they trained in the clearing behind the safehouse. The boy followed directions without flinching, without looking over his shoulder every five seconds like he expected Monroe to appear from behind the trees. And when Kai handed him a blade—not sharp, just a practice knife—he held it with the curiosity of someone discovering a piece of themselves.“What do we call him?” Eli
The morning sunlight felt wrong.Too bright. Too open.After days in the Hollow’s synthetic twilight, Damien squinted at the skyline like it was some forgotten relic. The world outside was still broken, scarred by everything Monroe had built, but out here—beneath real sky—it felt like breathing for the first time in weeks.They moved through the forest trail in silence, Aurora walking beside Damien, the child—now clothed in a borrowed jacket and boots too large—staying close to Damien’s side like a shadow tethered to light.No name.No past.
The air inside the chamber thickened as the hum of the cryopod deepened, soft lights tracing across its surface like veins awakening after a long slumber. Damien stood with his hand hovering just above the control panel, eyes locked on the boy within. A-00.The child who shouldn’t exist.The child who had been discarded—forgotten—yet had outlived the project meant to replace him.Aurora touched Damien’s arm gently. “Are you ready?”He didn’t answer right away. His gaze was still fixed on the boy’s face. So young, so still. Yet somehow, it felt like staring into a mirror that refused to reflect.
The helicopter blades sliced through the Ural sky like a warning.Beneath them, the forest spread like a sea of frozen pine and fractured stone, untouched and unwelcoming. The coordinates Null had provided pointed to a narrow canyon—its jagged sides veined with ice and shadow—where no human path should've ever led.Damien sat beside Aurora, eyes locked on the narrowing terrain below. The cold had begun to seep in through the insulated layers, but it wasn’t the temperature that clenched his gut.It was the silence.Even at this altitude, the absence of wildlife was unnerving.As if nature itself refused to brea
The wind had changed by morning.Geneva’s neutral calm felt different now—like something sacred had been disturbed beneath its manicured stillness. The team gathered in the briefing room of the underground complex, still shaken from what they’d uncovered the night before: Damien’s prototype—Subject A-01-D—and the fractured remnants of Monroe’s last vault of secrets.No one spoke for a long while.Elias was the first to break the silence. “So what now? We’ve seen the start of it. That clone—your prototype—it changes everything. Doesn’t it?”Null nodded slowly, pacing. “It suggests Monroe’s e