Masuk
“Where the fuck have you been?”
Jason leaned against the doorframe, arms folded tight over his chest, blocking her way in. Samantha’s bones ached as the weight of the bookbag on her shoulders. She felt so tired that her legs shook, and her stomach hurt with hunger. She’d been awake since before dawn, first a shift at the coffee shop, then back-to-back geology labs for six hours, before sprinting across town to her tutoring gig, all to keep her scholarship safe and to chip away at the mountain of medical bills waiting back home. All she wanted to do was collapse on her mattress and sleep like the dead for a few hours before dragging herself to her night shift, but it looked like Jason wanted to ruin any chances of that, just like he ruined everything else. Samantha froze in the doorway, the strap of her bag sliding off her shoulder. “Don’t start,” she muttered. “I can’t do this right now.” “You can’t do this right now? Samantha, it’s the fifth night in a row you’ve barely set foot in this apartment. You don’t come home, you don’t answer my calls, and when you do show up, you look like you’ve been anywhere but at work. What the hell am I supposed to think?” Her pulse spiked as she set her bag down with a heavy thud and closed the door behind her. “You’re supposed to think I’m busy, Jason. Because I am. Between classes, work, and the scholarship, I barely have time to breathe. I’m not out there having fun.” He stepped closer, his jaw tightening. “Busy, huh? Is that what you call it? Or is there someone else?” Samantha shoved past him, “Nobody. There’s nobody. Move.” “DON’T LIE TO ME, SAM!” He shouted at the top of his voice. She blinked, stunned, then barked out a laugh so sharp it made her throat hurt. “Are you kidding me? You think I have time to cheat? I can barely scrape enough hours together to sleep most days!” “Well, what do you expect me to think?!” he continued, his voice rising even more. “All I know is that the girl I’m living with, my girlfriend of 3 years, doesn’t give a damn about me anymore. You’re always gone, Samantha. Always.” “I asked you to come to dinner with my parents, but you blew it off. I asked you to show up for my game, but you didn’t even text me back. You can’t even keep one date. Do you know how pathetic it feels to sit there alone while everyone asks where my girlfriend is?” Her muscles stiffened as she got angrier and angrier while he spoke. “Pathetic? You want to talk about pathetic? Try juggling two jobs, a full course load, and scholarship requirements while drowning in debt and sending half your paycheck back home to keep bill collectors off your mother’s back. Try that, Jason, and then come tell me about pathetic.” Somewhere in the wall behind them, a fist pounded hard. A muffled, furious voice roared: “Shut the fuck up! It’s midnight, must you two fight every damn night?” Another neighbour chimed in as her baby started crying out. “Apartment 14! You people woke my baby up again with your arguing! Now I have to spend forever rocking her back to sleep!” “Shut up and mind your business!” Jason roared towards the neighbours, then turned back on her, moving in closer, his eyes blazing as he leaned down to get eye-level with her. “This isn’t about your bills, it's not about your stupid rocks. This is about us. Or don’t we matter anymore?” “Don’t call them stupid!” Samantha yelled, taking offence as he mocked her passion. “They’re fucking stupid, Samantha. Stupid rocks. I don’t give a fuck what you geologist students choose to call them instead.” “How dare you?” Samantha’s voice sharpened. She took off her hoodie in one sharp motion, heat rising in her chest. “Those rocks are the reason I even have a future. They’re the reason I got out of the mess I grew up in, and the only thing standing between me and poverty, Jason. If you can’t understand that, then maybe you don’t understand me at all.” Another voice came muffled through the thin wall: “For Christ’s sake, get a divorce already!” followed by mocking laughter. Jason grabbed at her arm, this time desperate. “I’m not the enemy, Samantha. I’m your boyfriend. All I want is some damn attention. I want to feel like I matter more than… than some fucking moon rocks!” She yanked her arm free, already unbuttoning her jeans with jerky, angry movements. “Don’t touch me. You aren’t entitled to me every second of the day just because we happen to be dating!” She stripped out of her jeans, standing in her underwear as she tore open a drawer for fresh clothes. “What are you doing?” Jason demanded. “Getting ready for my shift, since one of us actually has to pay the rent around here!” she retorted, lifting one shirt, sniffing it, then discarding it on the overflowing pile of dirty laundry. His tone shifted; this time, he tried pleading with her instead. “What about Friday? You promised we would have dinner. Just the two of us, like old times.” “I’ll go,” she snapped, pulling on new pants and tugging a clean shirt over her head. Her voice was harsh. “There. Happy? Friday. I’ll go.” “You said that last time. And the time before that.” His voice cracked; it sounded softer now but still laced with resentment. “You never show up, Samantha. You always find some excuse.” “Because I’m busy!” She shoved her arms through the sleeves of her work apron, tying it with trembling fingers. “What the hell do you want from me? Huh?! Do you want me to quit school? Drop my scholarship? Watch my parents rot under hospital bills while I serve lattes for the rest of my life?!” “Of course, I’ll lose everything I’ve been working for and have to go home empty-handed! But at least I’ll be following you around all day, talking about your game. That’s what you want, huh?!” “Of course not! All I’m asking for is---" She grabbed her beat-up, old sneakers, shoving her feet in without untying the laces, hands trembling with fury. “I don’t care what you want, Jason. It was a rhetorical question.” Jason’s fists slammed against the wall, rattling a cheap picture frame. The old lady upstairs stomped on the floorboards, “Some of us work in the morning, you animals! Shut the hell up!” “See? Even they know how toxic you are,” Jason growled, his chest heaving. He stepped in front of the door, blocking her path. “I’m not your enemy. Moon rocks won’t keep you warm at night. I’m the one who loves you. And if you keep treating me like I’m nothing, Samantha, one day I’ll walk away. I swear to God I will!” Her laugh was bitter and hollow as she slung her bag over her shoulder. “Promise?” His eyes widened, as if she’d struck him. “Wow,” he whispered. “Wow?” She lifted her chin, fire pouring out of every tired muscle in her body. “You don’t get to play the victim when you corner me, accuse me of cheating, and act like I’m some prize you’re entitled to. You’re a selfish, clingy bastard, Jason. And I don’t have time for this.” She shoved past him, yanked the door open, and spun to face him one last time. Her voice cut through the paper-thin walls, sharp enough to silence the muffled chuckles and curses from the neighbours for one sweet moment. “Maybe there was a time when we used to be happy, but it looks like that time passed a long time ago. You’ll never be anything but a distraction, Jason, and I don’t do distractions. Not anymore.” She slammed the door so hard the frame shook. Jason’s curses echoed on the other side, but Samantha was already stomping down the hall, her heart hammering with fury. “Fuck you, Jason. Fuck this apartment. Fuck everything!” She pulled out her coffee shop cap from her bag, stuffed it over her greasy hair, and, without looking, marched straight into a moving car.Silas Hale did not mind the smell of bleach or the scratchy texture of the thin, white sheets in the prison infirmary. To a man who had spent forty years living in the shadows, a prison cell was just another room. It was a space with walls, a floor, and a ceiling. It was a controlled environment, and Silas Hale had always been at his best when the boundaries were clearly defined. He lay back against the stiff pillow, his eyes closed, listening to the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor attached to his finger. He knew the doctors were watching that monitor in the other room. He knew they saw a frail, elderly man whose heart was struggling under the stress of a federal arrest.He had faked the chest pains the moment the handcuffs had touched his wrists. It was a simple, logical move. A man in a high-security cell is a prisoner, but a man in a hospital bed is a patient. A patient has rights. A patient has visitors. A patient is allowed a level of privacy that a common criminal is denied.
The first thing I felt was the warmth of the sun on my face. It was a strange sensation, one I hadn't truly felt in what felt like years. It wasn't the cold, artificial blue light of the bunker or the strobe-like flashes of the police sirens. It was just a quiet, Tuesday morning sun, filtering through the thick glass of a hospital window. The air smelled of lemon-scented floor cleaner and the faint, sweet scent of a new life.I didn't open my eyes right away. I wanted to stay in that moment of peace for just a few seconds longer. My body felt heavy and hollow, a strange combination of total exhaustion and the physical relief of no longer carrying the weight of another human being inside me. I felt the soft texture of the hospital gown and the rhythmic, steady beep of a heart monitor that wasn't mine.Then, I heard it. A small, soft sound. It was somewhere between a sigh and a whistle.I opened my eyes and turned my head slowly. In a small, clear plastic bassinet next to my bed, wrappe
The stairs felt like they were miles long. Every step was a battle against the weight of my own body and the thick, white gas that still clung to the fabric of my clothes. Nora was under my arm, her shoulder acting as a crutch, her breathing coming in ragged, terrified gasps. We were climbing out of the belly of the beast, leaving the blinking red lights and the melting servers behind, but the air above didn't feel any safer. It felt like we were trading one cage for another, one made of rain and concrete and the prying eyes of a thousand strangers.Then, the first real contraction hit.It wasn't a kick. It wasn't the dull ache I had been carrying for weeks. It was a white-hot ring of fire that tightened around my waist and pulled everything inward. I stopped dead on the concrete landing, my fingers digging into Nora’s arm so hard I knew I would leave bruises. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. The world narrowed down to the sensation of my own muscles betraying me, forcing the fut
Silas Hale did not cough as the white gas began to swirl around his knees. He stood perfectly still, even as the woman in the lab coat fled toward the emergency stairs and the red emergency lights turned his skin the color of a fresh wound. To Silas, the gas was just a chemical reaction: a mixture of nitrogen and carbon dioxide meant to suppress a fire that didn't exist. It was a logical response from a machine that had been lied to. But what mattered was the lie itself.He looked at the rolling monitor where Adrian’s face had just vanished. The screen was now a wall of scrolling green text, a language Silas had helped invent, now being used to scream in his face. For the first time in nearly half a century, Silas felt the cold touch of a variable he could not control.He turned away from the broken medical scanner and walked toward the server room at the back of the suite. He did not run; Silas believed that running was for those who feared the future, and he was the man who designed
The elevator ride down into the heart of the bunker felt like it would never end. The air grew colder, and the faint, sweet smell of recycled oxygen filled my lungs. I leaned against the back wall of the small metal box; my hand automatically went to my stomach.I hadn't spoken about the child in days. In the middle of the gunshots, the high-speed chases, and the digital wars, I had tried to push the reality of my pregnancy into a quiet corner of my mind. I had treated the baby like a secret I had to protect, even from myself. But now, in the silence of the elevator, the baby moved. It was a small, sharp kick: a reminder that while I was fighting for my life, I was also a vessel for a life that Silas Hale already claimed to own.The doors slid open. We weren't in a dusty basement or a rough tunnel anymore. We were in a space that looked like it belonged in a high-end hospital. The floors were white, the walls were glass, and the lights were soft and blue."This way, Samantha," Silas s
Silas Hale sat in the back of the black SUV, his gloved hands resting perfectly still on the silver head of his cane. To anyone watching, he looked like a man carved out of old, dark wood. He didn't blink as the rain lashed against the bulletproof glass. He didn't flinch as the driver took the corners of the Mission District with a sharp, violent speed.For forty years, Silas had lived in the spaces between the seconds. He had been a ghost, a name whispered in boardrooms, a shadow that moved money and lives across the globe. He had survived the death of his own era—the world of paper, ink, and secret handshakes—and moved into the world of light and speed. He had watched from his hidden estates as his family grew soft. He had watched as Eleanor turned his empire into a shield for her own fears. He had watched as Jason turned it into a playground for his own ego.He was not angry. Anger was a waste of energy. He was simply disappointed. He viewed his family like a watchmaker views a bro







