Damien’s POVThe echoes of Daemon’s fall still rang in my mind, though the blood had long since dried. The confrontation, the final confrontation, had felt both inevitable and surreal. My hand still trembled slightly as I gripped the railing of the balcony, staring out into the vast, darkened expanse of the estate grounds below. The night had grown still, but the air felt thick with anticipation—like a storm was still gathering on the horizon, despite Daemon’s death.I had faced him. Faced the part of me I’d never known, the monster bred from my very blood and bones. I had watched him die, felt his last breath rattle through the air. It should have been a victory, a triumph over my past—a cleansing fire. But now, in the aftermath, I felt none of that.Instead, all I could hear was the ringing silence left in his wake.I glanced down at my hand, watching the faint tremors as I flexed my fingers. The blood on them, still fresh from the struggle, was only a reminder of what had been lost
Aurora’s POVThe silence after war was the loudest thing I’d ever heard.It seeped into the walls of the estate, into the creaking floorboards and the chilled morning air. I could hear my own breath too clearly as I sat alone in the conservatory, legs curled beneath me, the early sunlight filtering through the glass like shattered gold.I hadn’t seen Damien since last night. Since Daemon. Since the bullet.It was over. But something inside me still buzzed like static.My fingers trembled around the teacup I hadn’t touched. I wasn’t sure if I was cold or just empty. We had survived, but surviving came with a cost. I didn’t know how to name it yet.Damien’s clone. His mirror. His shadow.Daemon had looked like him. Moved like him. Smirked like him. And yet, the moment I saw them side by side, I’d known. The real Damien wasn’t a reflection of violence. He was shaped by pain, yes—but he chose to feel, even if it broke him.I wasn’t sure if he saw that.The door creaked behind me.I didn’t
Damien’s POVMorning arrived as a pale whisper through the frost-kissed windows of the estate. I sat on the edge of the bed, shirtless, elbows on knees, the world outside still veiled in shadow. The silence felt too complete—like the house was holding its breath.Aurora lay behind me, still wrapped in sleep, her breathing steady, the curve of her body half-shrouded by the blanket. The only thing anchoring me to this moment was the knowledge that she was there—safe, close, real.But everything else in me felt frayed.Daemon’s face lingered in my mind like a ghost refusing to leave. Not just his face—mine. His voice—my voice. Each time I blinked, I could see him again, the final look in his eyes before he fell. Not rage. Not defiance. Acceptance.And that terrified me more than anything.Because what if I had been just one breath, one misstep, one trauma away from becoming him?I ran a hand over my face, feeling the rough stubble against my palm. The adrenaline had long since burned out
The day was cold, the kind of cold that crept into bones and wrapped itself around the heart. Damien stood on the balcony of the estate, overlooking the mist-shrouded forest, a cup of coffee untouched in his hand. The conversation from the night before lingered in his mind. Three simple words—ones he never thought he could say, let alone mean."I love you, too."Aurora’s voice was still etched in his memory, and the feeling of her lips against his was a brand he couldn't shake. But now, in the clarity of morning, the world returned in pieces—and with it, the war that hadn’t ended. The flash drive had only opened one door. What lay behind it was something far more dangerous.Inside, the team gathered in the war room. Lucien, Quinn, Zara, and Jace were already deep in debate when Damien entered. The moment he stepped in, all eyes turned toward him. No one asked how he was. They didn’t need to. His presence alone was answer enough."We decrypted the rest of the files," Quinn said, sliding
Aurora’s POVThe rain whispered against the windows, a soft, ceaseless rhythm that mirrored the storm churning inside me. I stood in the war room beside Damien, watching the digital map shift with red markers and lines of data streaming across the monitors. It felt surreal, how the world outside could remain untouched—silent and calm—while ours spiraled toward something that felt inevitable.We hadn’t spoken much since Romania. Since Daemon.Damien hadn’t slept. Not really. He paced at night, murmured Monroe’s name in his sleep, and carried shadows under his eyes that even sunlight couldn’t erase. There was a hollowness in him now. A silence that didn’t come from fear—but from knowing what had to come next.“What do you see when you look at that map?” I asked him quietly.Damien’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t look away from the screen. “I see the end. One way or another.”I moved closer, feeling the tension roll off him in waves. “You’re not alone in this.”His gaze shifted to me, the
Damien's POVThe shattering of glass was the catalyst. My bullet tore through the reinforced window, followed by the eruption of chaos. Monroe vanished behind a wall of smoke and shrapnel as alarms blared and red lights flooded the corridor. The sound of gunfire echoed like thunder in a metal tomb. Xavier and the others split into formation behind me, weapons drawn, eyes scanning every shadow."Move!"Aurora was already ahead, navigating through the thick smoke like a ghost. I followed her into the heart of Monroe's kingdom.The air was thick with heat and static. Something deeper stirred beneath the surface, a low thrumming like a living heartbeat within the asylum's bones. As we pushed forward, the walls pulsed with faint light—not fluorescent. Bioluminescent. Artificial veins wired through the structure like it was alive."He's turned the entire place into a machine," Xavier muttered."No," I replied, stepping into the main corridor. "A womb. He's birthing something here."We found
Aurora's POVThe early dawn crept over the horizon, casting a silver light across the war-torn estate. I stood at the window of the master bedroom, watching the sun struggle to rise through a veil of gray clouds. The air was still, eerily quiet, as if the earth itself was holding its breath.Damien was asleep, finally. The lines of exhaustion carved into his face had softened in the quiet. He looked younger when he slept—less burdened, less tormented. As if the weight of the world he carried had momentarily slipped from his shoulders.But peace, I knew, was fleeting. We were standing on the edge of something greater, something darker. Monroe wasn’t finished. Daemon’s death had only revealed the first layer of the nightmare. And in the hours since, our intel had painted a more harrowing picture.I turned from the window as Damien stirred. He blinked up at me, his expression clouded with sleep and something else—fear? Worry? He sat up slowly, rubbing a hand over his face."You didn’t sl
The hum of the helicopter blades faded into the distance, leaving behind an unsettling silence that settled over the hidden compound. Damien stood on the edge of the scorched grass, his eyes fixed on the treeline where the battle had erupted only hours earlier. The clone child’s face still haunted him—those eyes, wide with recognition, staring at him not with fear, but familiarity.He had barely spoken on the flight back. Aurora had watched him, her gaze quiet and filled with unspoken questions, but she hadn't pressed. She understood his silence, respected it. Now, as the team disbanded to tend to wounds and assess the stolen data, Damien remained frozen in place, a ghost rooted to the ground."You should get inside," Aurora said gently, approaching him. Her voice was a balm, but it didn’t reach the storm inside him.Damien didn’t move. "He looked at me like he knew me. Not as a stranger. As something… familiar."Aurora hesitated. "Maybe because he was designed to.""No," Damien murmu
Silence pressed against their ears as they approached the lowest chamber. The air was heavier here—thick with ozone and dread, as if the facility itself exhaled the weight of its own malice. Damien’s flashlight beam danced across the walls, revealing veins of circuitry pulsing beneath steel plates. Each step echoed like a verdict.Aurora’s grip on her rifle tightened. “This corridor leads straight to the core. Seraph must be close.”Asher flanked Damien’s other side, unblinking in the dim light. Though forged in Monroe’s broken crucible, the boy’s courage was pure—a reminder that hope could grow from ashes.Null’s voice crackled in their earpieces. “I’m seeing systems coming back online. Ten minutes before full lockdown. We need to move.”Elias checked his watch. “Understood.”They 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.Null’s map guided them through a maze of subterranean halls—some 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 everything—coordinates, access routes, and warnings. Seraph wasn’t like Daemon or Omega.He was worse.“Bio-signature locked,” Null murmured, eyes on the scanner as they reached another sealed door. “There’s something down there. No readable vitals, but movement… constant. Pacing, almost.”“He’s waiting,” Aurora said.Asher’s small voice cut in, soft but certain. “He doesn’t think. He reacts. He was made to become… everything they wanted me to be.”Damien knelt beside him. “You don’t have to face this.”Asher looked up. “I do. If we don’t stop him, he’ll come for us. For others.”Au
The elevator doors closed with a reluctant groan, sealing them in.Inside the narrow shaft, the only light came from their tactical gear—soft 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 them—preparing 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.“This is it,” Null said quietly. “The Core Lab.”They 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 didn’t come from fear—but 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 weather—but of reckoning.“You always find the highest place when you need to think.”He didn’t turn. He didn’t need to.Aurora’s voice always settled beneath his skin like a familiar hum—gentle and steady.She stepped up beside him, hands tucked into the sleeves of her jacket, her gaze following his to the horizon.“You used to be quieter,” he said. “Before all this.”“I used to have more to be afraid of,” she replied, half-smiling. “Now I just have more to lose.”He
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