As I continued to stare at Daniel, my mind reeled. His words hung in the air, surprising me more than I expected. I had never considered Callum’s actions from this perspective—never thought of him as someone who might actually feel threatened by Daniel. Callum had always been cold, distant, and professional, but hearing Daniel's take on it, I started to wonder if there was more behind his sudden interest. I’m being confused again.“Are you serious?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Daniel; it was just that the idea of Callum being jealous seemed so... out of place. Callum never seemed like someone who cared about anything beyond his work now. Yet, here was Daniel, suggesting that my former boss might actually be threatened by us.Daniel didn’t answer immediately. He simply gave me a knowing look, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and then he shifted the car into gear, pulling out onto the road. His expression, despite the underlying amus
The next morning, I walked into my office feeling sick to my stomach. A gnawing unease weighed on me as I settled behind my desk. The faint headache lingering at the base of my skull only added to the discomfort, and my mind refused to stop racing.The past few days had left me drained, but today felt different. Maybe it was the unresolved tension with Callum or the fact that my brother Ryan was still in the hospital. Either way, I had no energy to face anything.I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my eyes, hoping the fog would lift. It didn’t. My mind kept drifting to Callum. Why had he been so cold lately? Why did it feel like he was pulling away just when I needed him most? And yet, despite everything, I still thought about him—about the way he made me feel.My phone buzzed. Callum.I sighed, knowing what that meant. Even when he wasn’t around, he loomed over me. I didn’t want to answer, but as his employee, I had no choice.“Hello?” I said, keeping my voice neutral."You’re late,"
I frowned and told him that I didn't know him, so why would he say that? And then he uttered the words that made my stomach sink. "It’s an order from Mr. Callum Stone."I hated it.Why would Callum do this? I was perfectly capable of handling myself. I didn't need someone babysitting me, especially not at his command. My jaw tightened as I crossed my arms, glaring at the man. He seemed unaffected by my irritation, standing there with a quiet resolve."I don’t need a driver," I said, my tone firm. "I can get home on my own."The man exhaled, shifting slightly. "Ma’am, I don’t mean to intrude, but if I don’t follow this order, I’ll lose my job. I have a family to feed."Was he trying to make me pity him?I clenched my teeth, my mind spinning. This wasn’t about him—it was about Callum’s need for control. The way he making decisions without consulting me. He had no right."Look," I said, my voice tight, "I understand your situation, but this is my life. I never agreed to have a driver, an
CALLUM’S POVDaniel’s gaze remained steady as I stepped further into the room, my presence commanding the space between him and Athena.“Athena,” I said, my voice firm yet controlled. “I want to talk to Daniel.”Athena hesitated, her fingers twitching against the desk. She glanced at Daniel, then at me, concern flickering in her eyes. I could see the silent plea there—whatever she was worried about, she didn’t want this conversation to happen. But after a moment, she gave in, nodding slowly.“Daniel,” she said softly.To my surprise, Daniel agreed immediately. “Fine,” he said, straightening his posture. There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation in his voice, as if he had been expecting this moment. But Athena… Athena looked worried.That only fueled my irritation.I turned on my heel, leading the way out of the office, Daniel following closely behind. The moment we stepped outside, he broke the silence.“Let’s have a drink,” he offered, but I shook my head, rejecting the attempt at civility
I stepped in before Athena could finish. “Athena,” I said firmly, giving her a look that warned her to stop.She hesitated for a second before forcing a small smile. “Nothing, Ryan. I just wanted to say that Callum and I are working things out.”Ryan’s expression softened, relief washing over his face. “That’s great. I knew you two just needed time.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “You’re lucky to have my sister, bro. Don’t mess it up.”I gave a tight nod, feeling Athena’s gaze burning into me. I had no choice but to play along, keeping my expression neutral.Ryan smiled, satisfied, before excusing himself. The moment he was out of sight, Athena turned to me, her eyes flashing with anger.I saw the way Athena hesitated before speaking, and I knew exactly where this was going. I couldn’t let her say it—not in front of Ryan.“Athena,” I interrupted, my voice firm but calm. “Can we talk? Outside.”She arched a brow, clearly annoyed, but after a brief pause, she nodded. “Fine.”Ryan glanc
His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it that sent a shiver down my spine. “Just get here. We need to talk.”I felt my heart race, unsure of what was waiting for me when I arrived. The drive to Richard Rhodes' mansion felt like it lasted an eternity, the long, winding road only adding to the unease that had settled in my chest.I parked the car and slowly made my way to the front door, each step heavy with the weight of what was to come.As I stepped out of my car, my hands trembled slightly as I gripped the keys to the mansion. The estate before me, grand as it was, felt far more imposing tonight. The shadows stretching from the towering trees only added to the heavy feeling pressing down on my chest.I took a deep breath and made my way toward the front door, which swung open before I even reached it. He stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable. Without a word, he nodded toward the hallway and turned, expecting me to follow.He led me to the room, the familiar sound of
ATHENA'S POV“Do you think Daniel has a chance with you?” she asked, her tone casual, but her eyes betraying quiet desperation.I didn’t know how to respond. I wasn’t even sure if I had an answer. It was a simple question on the surface, but it carried so much weight. Daniel. His name lingered in the air, and I felt the tightness in my chest when I thought of him. Part of me wanted to say yes—he was kind, thoughtful, and made me feel safe in a way I hadn’t in a long time. But when my mother spoke again, all that calm vanished.“What about Callum?”The question hung in the air like a dark cloud. Callum.“Callum will always be there for you,” she’d told me countless times. And every time, my stomach churned with an emotion I couldn’t name—anger? Resentment? Confusion?“How can you even ask me about him?” I replied, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to stay calm. “You know what he did, Mom. You know how he betrayed me. How many times do i have to tell you?”Her face softened, bu
The sight of Ryan struggling to breathe sent a fresh wave of terror crashing over me. My heart pounded as I knelt beside him, my fingers trembling as I reached for his clammy hand."Ryan, stay with me, okay? Just hold on." My voice cracked, but I forced myself to stay steady for him.I heard my mother on the phone, her voice urgent, but all I could focus on was Ryan. His lips had turned a terrifying shade of blue, and each breath was labored, as if his lungs were failing him."Mom! He's getting worse!" My panic clawed at my throat. My mother turned to me, her face etched with worry as she tried to keep calm."The doctors are on their way," she assured me, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough until I saw Ryan safe, until I heard his voice again.Then, his body went still. Too still."Ryan? Ryan!" I shook him, my breath coming in gasps. "Please wake up! You can't do this to me, please!"I barely noticed Callum bursting into the room, his voice a blur in the background. He was
The safehouse in the Scottish Highlands didn’t look like much—half-buried in moss and stone, tucked beneath a crooked ridge. But after what we’d been through, it felt like the world’s last cathedral. Quiet. Empty. Untouched by programs and wires and memories that weren’t ours.Callum barely spoke the first day. He slept. For once, real sleep—not the restless, drug-induced recovery that followed every mission. I watched him from the armchair across the room, wrapped in the heavy plaid blanket someone had left behind, eyes tracking the rise and fall of his chest as if I still didn’t quite believe he was breathing freely.I wanted to reach for him. But after Reykjavik, after the screaming and seizures and crimson light inside that vault—I was afraid of shattering something fragile. Not him. Us.So I waited.On the third night, the fireplace crackled back to life, and so did he.“You should sleep,” Callum murmured from where he stood by the window, arms crossed loosely over his chest. “I
The corridors beneath Reykjavik were colder than death. The walls hummed faintly with latent energy — the kind that made your skin crawl, like the building itself remembered violence.We’d split into two groups. Julian and Will were planting the disruptor arrays across the upper levels. Sage was syncing the transport failsafe. I stayed with Callum.He was quiet beside me, moving slowly but steady, hand trailing lightly against the steel walls like he needed to touch something real. The tremors in his body had lessened, but I could still see the fatigue in his eyes.“Pain okay?” I asked, adjusting my grip on the rifle slung across my shoulder.He gave me a faint smile. “Manageable. I’ve had worse.”That much was true — but it wasn’t his body I worried about. It was what they had done to his mind. What they had put inside him.We reached a chamber lit only by our headlamps. The walls narrowed here, funnelling down into the main vault. The Eidolon core was just beyond.Callum paused at t
The chopper thumped across the burning skyline like a bleeding heartbeat, rhythmic and urgent. I sat beside Callum, cradling him against my side, his blood soaking through my sleeves. He was slipping in and out of consciousness, and every time his eyes fluttered open, I reminded him, “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”Julian sat across from us, checking a battered tablet that had somehow survived the inferno. The glow on his face was pale and grim.“We didn’t get it all,” he muttered. “Their central servers were offline before we reached the lab. Everything in Callum’s head may be the last uncorrupted copy.”Will glanced over his shoulder from the cockpit, voice tense. “And now they know that. Which means we’ve got a target painted on our backs the size of a continent.”I turned my head, looking back at the black column of smoke curling into the sky. Calidus wouldn’t mourn the loss. They didn’t grieve — they adapted. A fallen lab was just another lesson. A reminder to harden the next one.B
He looked at me like a dying man trying to remember sunlight.The flickering fluorescent light above cast shadows across his face, deepening the hollow beneath his cheekbones, making the bruises bloom darker on his skin. I reached out, but he flinched.“Callum,” I said again, gentler this time. “I know what they’ve done. I see it. But they don’t get to keep you.”He swallowed, and the sound felt deafening in the silence. “You don’t know what I’ve given them, Athena. What I had to give.”Julian appeared behind me, scanning the room with his weapon drawn, tense and ready. “We need to move. This place won’t stay quiet for long.”I looked back at Callum, still shackled to the cot. “We can’t leave him like this.”“There’s no time,” Will’s voice crackled through my comm. “Guards converging. Eastern hallway. You’ve got five minutes, max.”I turned to Julian. “Cut him loose.”Julian hesitated only a second before crossing the room. “He’ll slow us down.”“Then we’ll move slower,” I snapped.Ca
And he was trying to reach me.“I thought he died,” Will said, hands trembling as he decrypted the next packet.“He was supposed to,” I whispered. “He wanted us to believe it.”Julian joined us ten minutes later, still bruised but sharper than ever. He scanned the metadata twice before nodding.“This wasn’t sent from the convoy,” he said. “It came from inside the Calidus fallback grid. Probably rerouted through a relay station using a clean identity.”“So he’s behind enemy lines,” I said.“Or being kept alive by someone with an interest in not killing him.”“Leverage,” Will said. “Or… bait.”The thought made my stomach clench.“Either way,” Julian added, “he sent this for a reason. He’s telling you he made it. That he’s waiting.”I looked at the screen again.Echo. Down. Survived.Not help. Not run. Not goodbye.Just three words.A signal in the dark.We flew to Montenegro the next day.Julian tracked the signal’s bounce path to a portside comms hub buried in a crumbling Cold War-era
Three days had passed since Will told me Callum was dead.Three days since the convoy firestorm — since the smoke, the silence, and the sound of nothing on the other end of the line. We buried his name in an encrypted memorial on the darknet, posted beneath a single phrase: Some ghosts burn brighter than the living.The world kept moving.The children were safe — scattered across hidden sanctuaries with new identities and guardians who still believed in justice. Nora-3 was adapting faster than we thought possible. Her neural scans had begun to normalize, as if freedom was rewriting her brain.But me?I was static.Functioning. Breathing. Moving.But not feeling.Not really.Until the ping.It came through Will’s system at 2:17 a.m. — a ghost packet embedded in a relay node we’d used back in Prague, long since scrubbed and mothballed.I was the one who saw it.The days were a blur of comms and half-formed plans. Every hour that passed with Callum’s message sitting like a hot ember in m
There’s a kind of silence that doesn’t feel empty.The kind that wraps around you after a moment so sharp, so unforgiving, that your brain hasn’t caught up yet. Like the second after a gunshot, or the pause before someone says, “It’s not what you think.”I sat in that silence, staring at the message on Callum’s encrypted tablet.It had lit up when he stepped away to take a call — some logistics check-in with Will. He’d left it open. That alone should’ve been a red flag. Callum never left anything unsecured.But maybe… maybe part of him wanted me to see it.The message was from Lara.Lara: The flight from Riyadh is booked. If we do this, there’s no turning back.Below that, a location ping.Not Novus-related. Not a safehouse.A villa. Remote. Coastal. Private.There was a follow-up message, timestamped an hour earlier.Lara: Are you sure about her? You said she’d never find out.And then — the worst part — the reply.Callum: She’s distracted with the child protocols. Let’s finish this
I didn’t leave Berlin.Not really.I stayed close enough to watch Callum from a distance — to feel the gravity of him without getting pulled back into orbit. He didn’t chase me. That was worse than if he had. Because it meant he knew I wasn’t ready to hear anything that would make this less real, less raw.I stayed in an old Cold War-era substation the resistance had converted into a shelter for journalists and data couriers. The air smelled like copper and engine oil. The beds were steel slabs with thin foam. It was perfect. Unemotional. Unattached.I needed that right now.Because I couldn’t stop thinking about the messages.Not just the words Lara wrote — but the pauses. The silences in between. The way Callum had answered her, and more damning: the way he hadn’t.He hadn’t denied it meant something.He hadn’t told her to stop.He hadn’t told me the truth.I’d trusted him with my life. With my mind. With my body. And in the end, it was something so simple — a lie by omission — that
Berlin had gone quiet.After the virus launched, there was a lull — not peace, exactly, but the kind of stillness that follows a tectonic shift. Protestors were still in the streets, headlines still spun, and Novus Shield’s remnants were scrambling to erase their fingerprints. But for us, it was waiting time.Will was off-grid chasing down a suspected mole. Elena was silent again — not unusual, but it gnawed at me all the same. And Callum…Callum was perfect.Too perfect.He brewed my coffee exactly the way I liked it. He woke up before me, padded around barefoot, bare-chested, humming some song I didn’t recognize. He kissed me like we had all the time in the world. And when I had nightmares — and I still did — he held me until they stopped mattering.That’s what made it worse.The message came in through an old comms relay we hadn’t used since Prague — a secure terminal we’d buried beneath three encryption layers and a rotating cipher. It shouldn’t have been active.I found it by acc