Mag-log inWhite faded to gray.Then to pain.Dominic returned to himself in fragments. Sound came first, a high, keening whine like metal under strain. Then the light, too bright and wrong. Then the taste of copper flooding his mouth. He tried to sit up, and the room lurched violently.“No, don’t,” a voice said, sharp with urgency. “Stay still.”Hands pressed his shoulders back down. A woman’s face hovered into focus, Dr. Rowan, her expression tight, her professional calm stretched thin.“The partition destabilized,” she said. “You’re conscious too soon.”Dominic tried to speak. His tongue felt thick. “Eli.”Rowan’s eyes flicked past him. “He’s awake.”The word awake hit him like a reprieve.Dominic forced himself to turn his head. Across the room, Lila sat on the edge of a narrow cot, Eli propped against her chest, his small body tucked into the curve of her arms. His eyes were open, unfocused but present. She was murmuring to him in a low, rhythmic cadence, the kind of sound that steadied bre
Dominic drove without headlights.Not recklessly. Deliberately.The city thinned around them, concrete giving way to stretches of dark road and unmarked exits that didn’t appear on any public map. Lila watched the dashboard clock tick forward while Eli slept curled against her chest, exhausted tears drying on his cheeks. The red pinprick beneath his collar had gone dark minutes ago, masked by a signal scrambler Dominic had activated from memory he didn’t know he possessed.“That won’t last,” he’d said, jaw tight. “It never does.”She hadn’t asked how he knew. Some truths were louder when left alone.They turned off the highway and down a service road lined with dead streetlights. At the end of it, a low building crouched against the earth, half-swallowed by scrub and shadow. No sign. No windows. A door set flush into concrete.“This isn’t a hospital,” Lila said.“No,” Dominic replied. “It’s where they fixed problems they couldn’t admit existed.”He parked beneath an overhang and kille
The door opened an inch.A voice followed, calm and rehearsed, almost kind.“Mr. Hale. We’re here to assist with a protective transfer.”Lila felt the words before she understood them. Protective transfer. Like Eli was a document. Like he wasn’t clinging to her, small body rigid, breath quick and shallow.“No,” she said, stepping back instinctively. “You’re not taking him.”Dominic didn’t answer the voice. He didn’t look at the door.He looked at the wall to its left.A smooth panel. Flush with the surface. Invisible unless you knew exactly where to place your hand.His thumb pressed against it.Nothing happened.The handle turned further.“Sir,” the voice continued, still patient. “You’re obstructing a lawful…”The lights went out.Not all of them. Just enough.Emergency strips flared along the floor, painting the penthouse in sharp white lines and long shadows. Somewhere deep in the tower, a system stuttered, then began rerouting power in confused bursts.Dominic moved.“Now,” he sa
The words lingered on the screen long after the alert fell silent.SUBJECT: ELI MONROE-HALESTATUS: REQUIRED FOR COMPLIANCELila didn’t breathe.Her arms closed around Eli automatically, muscle memory taking over before fear could even find a shape. He pressed his face into her shoulder, sensing the sudden shift, small fingers gripping her shirt.“No,” she said, the word coming out low and absolute. “No. You don’t get to turn my son into a clause.”Dominic was already moving.He crossed the room in three long strides, fingers flying over the console, calling up layers of access he hadn’t had to think about in years. His jaw was locked, his expression sharpened into something lethal.“Article Seven,” he muttered. “They’ve rewritten it.”Lila’s heart hammered. “Rewritten how?”Dominic didn’t answer immediately. His eyes scanned the screen, the scrolling legal language reflected starkly in his pupils.“Quiet expansions,” he said finally. “Addendums buried in governance updates. Language
The first thing Dominic did was shut the system down, cutting visibility rather than power.Screens dimmed. External feeds severed. The penthouse went unnaturally quiet, a silence that felt like the pause before something broke.Lila stood very still, Eli tucked against her side, her hand pressed flat between his shoulder blades. He was watching Dominic with the solemn focus of a child who sensed danger but didn’t yet have the words for it.“They logged it,” Lila said. Her voice sounded steadier than she felt. “The file. They logged us watching it.”“Yes,” Dominic replied. “Which means they wanted us to.”Maya swallowed. “You’re saying this was… bait?”“I’m saying,” Dominic said slowly, fingers flying across the secondary console, “that someone has been waiting for my memory to destabilize.”He pulled up timelines, overlapping charts, security logs, and biometric spikes. The room filled with quiet data.Eli’s birth. The hospital exit. The memory wipe. The first override attempt. T
No one spoke.The penthouse felt smaller than it had moments ago, the walls closing in as the image on Maya’s phone burned itself into Lila’s mind. Dominic at the hospital. Awake. Watching.Not lost.Not erased.Lila took a step back, then another, as if distance could protect her from what she’d just seen. She didn’t accuse him. She didn’t cry. The restraint in her silence was worse than either.“I don’t remember that,” Dominic said at last. His voice was steady, but something underneath it had begun to fracture. “I swear to you, I don’t.”“I know,” Lila replied softly.The words should have reassured him. Instead, they landed like a verdict.Maya cleared her throat, hands twisting together. “There’s more,” she said. “I didn’t bring this just to scare you.”Dominic’s eyes flicked to her. “Then why bring it?”“Because I finally realized what it was.” She reached into her bag again, slower this time, as if afraid of what her fingers might close around. “Not surveillance. Not stalking.”







