LOGINI don’t move. I don’t even breathe.
He’s still standing there across the street, leaning casually against the lamppost like he has nowhere else to be. His black suit absorbs the weak light, but his eyes don’t. They lock on me like he can see through the thin curtain, through the walls, straight into my skull. He lifts the phone to his ear again. My phone buzzes on the nightstand. I glance at Evan. He’s still asleep, his arm draped carelessly over the sheets. Oblivious. I grab my phone, hands shaking a little. The screen lights up with a new message. Come outside. My throat tightens. No name, no number, just those two words. My first instinct is to ignore it. But then another message arrives before I can even put the phone down. Before he wakes up. I look at Evan again. His chest rises and falls, steady and calm. The man who killed me sleeps like he’s never done anything wrong. This is insane. I should call the police. I should scream. I should do anything except go outside. But something deep in my gut whispers that this man isn’t random. He’s connected to all of this. I slide out of bed quietly, careful not to wake Evan. The floor creaks under my bare feet, and I freeze, watching him. Nothing. He doesn’t move. I grab my sweater from the chair, slip it on, and tiptoe to the door. Every sound seems louder in the dark. The click of the lock. The soft hiss of the hinges. The cool night air hits me the moment I step outside. He hasn’t moved. Still leaning there like he’s been waiting for me all along. For a second, we just stare at each other. He looks real. Too real. Tall, broad shoulders, crisp suit, black tie. There’s no way I’d forget a face like that. I finally cross the street. My heartbeat pounds in my ears with each step. “Who are you?” I demand. My voice is low but steady. I hate that my hands are cold. He lowers the phone, slipping it into his pocket. “Took you long enough.” “Answer me,” I say. He tilts his head slightly. His voice is smooth, deep, and calm, like someone who never raises it because they don’t have to. “You’re asking the wrong question.” I fold my arms. “Then what’s the right one?” He steps forward, slow and deliberate, closing the distance between us. My breath catches before I can stop it. He’s close now, close enough that I can see the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw. “How are you here?” he says softly. “That’s the question.” I take a step back. “I live here.” A corner of his mouth lifts. “Not anymore". A shiver runs down my spine. “How do you know that?” His eyes meet mine, steady and sharp. “Because I saw you die.” My blood goes cold. “What did you just say?” “I was there,” he says. “At the ballroom. I watched him put that knife in you.” For a second, I can’t breathe. The sound of the ballroom floods back into my head—the music, the laughter, the feeling of the knife sliding between my ribs. “How?” My voice cracks. He doesn’t look away. “Because I’ve been watching you, Aria.” I hate the way my heart jumps at the sound of my name in his mouth. Like it belongs there. “Why?” “Because you’re not supposed to be here.” I laugh, but it comes out sharp. “Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I am.” “Not for long, if you keep walking around without a clue.” The wind picks up, pushing my hair into my face. I take a shaky breath and square my shoulders. “If you know so much, then tell me what’s happening to me.” His expression doesn’t change. “You already know.” “No, I don’t,” I snap. “I woke up ten years in the past after being murdered by the man I loved. I can hear people’s thoughts. And now some stranger in a suit is stalking me in the middle of the night. So no, I don’t know what the hell is going on.” Something flickers in his eyes- amusement, maybe. “Good. That means you’re not completely lost. “Are you going to give me a straight answer, or should I just call the police?” “You can,” he says calmly. “But it won’t matter.” I stare at him, waiting for something more. He doesn’t explain. He just watches me like I’m some puzzle he already knows how to solve. “What do you want from me?” I finally ask. “Nothing you’re not already willing to give.” The way he says it makes my pulse jump again. I hate that it does. He steps closer, close enough that I can smell the faint scent of his cologne. Clean, sharp, expensive. “This second chance isn’t a gift, Aria. It’s a deal. You just haven’t figured out the terms yet.” “What deal?” “You’ll find out. I want to scream. I want to shake him until he tells me everything. Instead, I take a step back and glare at him. “You’re enjoying this.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. I smiled a little.” My fingers curl into fists. “You show up at my house in the middle of the night, tell me you saw me die, and act like this is some kind of game.” “It is a game,” he says. “You just haven’t learned the rules yet.” I swallow hard. “Who are you?” He leans in slightly, lowering his voice. “Someone who doesn’t like being ignored.” I meet his gaze, refusing to back down. “I don’t even know your name.” “Damian,” he says. “But you’ll remember it eventually.” “Eventually? A slow smile spreads across his face. “We’ve done this before.” The words land heavy, like a punch to the gut. “What are you talking about?” “You’ll figure it out,” he says again as if time is his favorite toy. I want to yell at him, but then a thought hits me like a slap. I can hear everyone’s thoughts. Everyone’s except his. The silence around him isn’t normal. It’s deliberate. Controlled. “Why can’t I hear you?” I whisper. His smile fades a little. “Because I don’t let you.” That shouldn’t be possible. I don’t even understand how I got this power, but whatever it is, he’s immune to it. That alone makes him dangerous. I take another step back. “I don’t trust you". “You shouldn’t,” he replies easily. “But you’ll need me.” My breath catches. “Why?” He tilts his head. “Because the clock’s already ticking. You think this is about Evan. It’s not. He’s just the beginning.” The sound of a car passing breaks the silence between us. I stare at him, trying to read the unreadable. His face gives nothing away. “What happens if I don’t listen to you?” I ask. His eyes flick down to my wrist, where the faint mark from the knife should be but isn’t. “Then you die again. And maybe next time, you don’t get to wake up.” A chill slides down my spine. Damian straightens his suit like he hasn’t just said the scariest thing I’ve ever heard. “Go back inside, Aria. Try to sleep. Pretend things are still normal. Tomorrow, play nice with your monster. Let him believe he owns you.” I stiffen. “Don’t tell me what to do.” He looks at me like he already knows I will anyway. “We’ll talk again soon.” I open my mouth to ask how he even found me, but he’s already walking away. Not fast, not slow. Just like someone who’s never in a rush. “Wait,” I call out. He doesn’t stop. I run after him, but when I reach the corner, he’s gone. The street’s empty. Silent. Like he was never there. I stand there for a long time, breathing hard. My hands are cold, my mind spinning. I should feel safer knowing someone else understands what’s happening to me. Instead, I feel like I’ve just stepped into a game where I don’t even know the rules. When I finally go back inside, Evan hasn’t moved. He’s still asleep, the same fake softness on his face. I crawl into bed beside him, staring at the ceiling, Damian’s words echoing in my head. The clock’s already ticking. I don’t sleep. Not even a second. Morning light creeps across the floor. Evan groans and turns over throwing an arm around me. My body stiffens at his touch. He doesn’t notice. “Morning,” he mumbles into my hair. “You’re up early.” I don’t answer. My mind’s still stuck on Damian. Evan pulls back, squinting at me. “Why are you staring at the ceiling like it owes you money? I blink and force a smile. “Just thinking.” “About what?” “Life,” I say. His thoughts slide into my head easily. She’s clingy when she gets like this. Maybe I should distract her later. If only he knew I could hear every disgusting little thing. “Big day?” I ask lightly. He grins. “Always.” Liar. I push the blanket off and sit up. “I have plans later.” He raises a brow. “With who?” “Lena.” He shrugs. “Fine. Just be back early I almost laugh. He’s already acting like my owner. He has no idea the leash snapped the second I opened my eyes ten years earlier. The rest of the day passes slowly. I keep seeing Damian’s face in my mind, hearing his voice. The way he said “We’ve done this before” sticks to my ribs like a splinter I can’t get out. I walk to the park in the late afternoon, hoping the fresh air will help. It doesn’t. The same bench. The same breeze. A single text arrives on my phone Tick tock. My pulse spikes. I spin around, scanning the crowd. Parents. Joggers. A couple on a picnic blanket. No Damian. No black suit but I feel him. Like the air shifted when he looked at me, even if I can’t see him. The wind picks up again, carrying a whisper I can’t quite catch. Then the phone buzzes again. Behind you. I whirl around. Someone is standing at the edge of the path. Not Damian. Not Evan. A woman and she’s smiling at me like she’s been waiting."Three days. Barely enough time to prepare but they're moving fast because of the accelerated timeline intelligence." The news hit like physical impact. Three days until Damian deployed to Europe, leaving me and Elara home while he walked into Geneva's complex. First major separation since our reconciliation years ago. "This changes the infiltration plan," I said, trying to think tactically rather than emotionally. "If you're going officially as Guardian consultant, you can't participate in covert documentation operation. You'll be under surveillance, your movements monitored." "I won't be infiltrating," Damian confirmed. "I'll be providing legitimate oversight consultation while gathering intelligence that supports the actual infiltration team. Different role but complementary to the mission." "So you're bait. Official Guardian presence that distracts Geneva's attention while the real operation happens covertly." "Partially. But also legitimate intelligence gathering. Guar
"Promise." She seemed satisfied for the moment but that night I heard her crying softly in her room, processing emotions about Damian's deployment that she hadn't wanted to express directly. I sat with her in the darkness. "Daddy will come back. This is temporary." "I know but I can feel how dangerous it is. The place he's going, it's full of people who hurt children by trying to help them. What if they hurt him?" "Guardian training means he can protect himself and he's not going to do anything risky. Just observation and intelligence gathering." "Everything about Geneva is risky. Even the observation part. Because they don't want to be observed honestly. They'll try to show him fake things while hiding real things. And if he sees too much real stuff, they might not let him leave." Her perception was uncomfortably accurate. Geneva wouldn't permit thorough observation of controversial research. Damian would be navigating between official access and operational securit
By evening I was exhausted and more uncertain than ever about my qualifications. Everyone else seemed confident in their capabilities. I felt like an academic pretending to be operative. Damian found me reviewing Geneva facility layouts, trying to memorize routes and identify potential psychological assessment opportunities. "You're spiraling," he observed. "I'm preparing inadequately for situations that exceeds my expertise." "You're overthinking because you're scared. That's normal before dangerous operation but it doesn't mean you're actually inadequate." "Everyone else has supernatural abilities or tactical training. I have theoretical knowledge about psychological development that might not apply to consciousness network manipulation." "Everyone else also has blind spots you don't have. Enhanced individuals perceive consciousness but sometimes miss behavioral indicators. Tactical operatives focus on security but overlook psychological impacts. You see what they miss beca
"You're overthinking it," Damian said, finding me at two a.m. surrounded by papers and incomprehension."I'm underprepared for it," I corrected. "Everyone else on the infiltration team has consciousness abilities. Enhanced perception that lets them sense threats I'll miss. I'm going to be a liability rather than an asset.""You're going to be the only person who understands what we're seeing from a psychological perspective. Consciousness specialists will document technical capabilities. You'll document human impact.""If I can even understand what I'm seeing. These protocols describe consciousness manipulation at levels I can't perceive anymore. How do I assess psychological harm from processes I can't directly observe?""The same way you've been doing it for two years. Through behavioral analysis, emotional assessment, therapeutic expertise. You don't need to perceive consciousness directly to identify when people are being damaged psychologically."He was right theoretically. Bu
The argument was compelling despite my resistance. I did know Elara's psychological development intimately. Her attachment patterns, her emotional regulation strategies, her responses to stress. A clone might replicate behaviors but would struggle to replicate the underlying psychological architecture that generated those behaviors. "I'll do the assessment," I agreed. "But I need complete access to all verification data. Consciousness scans, biometric readings, behavioral analysis, everything. I can't work with partial information." Guardian specialists began comprehensive testing while I reviewed Elara's developmental history. Medical records, therapeutic notes, school assessments, every documented interaction that revealed her psychological patterns. Elara submitted to testing with remarkable patience for a five year old. Consciousness mapping, memory verification questions, emotional response tasks. She sensed my terror but didn't ask about it directly. Just held my hand bet
"I sent preliminary analysis," she said. "But there's something else. Something I couldn't put in a written document because it's too sensitive. Can we talk privately?" I put her on speaker with just Damian and Marcus present. "Go ahead." "Geneva isn't working alone on consciousness evolution project. They're coordinating with other facilities globally. Shanghai, Mumbai, Sydney, São Paulo. All conducting synchronized research toward same evolutionary objectives. Together they're creating distributed consciousness manipulation network that can't be stopped by eliminating any single facility." "How many facilities total?" I asked. "At least twelve major sites. Probably more smaller operations. All sharing research, all implementing Geneva's methodologies, all contributing to systematic consciousness cultivation on global scale." "That's the real scope," I realized. "Not just Geneva. Not just Chrysalis. Entire international network directing human consciousness evolution through







