All Chapters of wounded Heart : Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

The world resolved into painful clarity as Alex regained consciousness. Jagged metal. Shattered glass. The acrid scent of electrical fire. For the first time in years, he processed these stimuli without enhancement—raw, unfiltered reality striking his senses with brutal intensity. "Sonia?" His voice sounded strange to his unaugmented ears, vulnerable in ways he'd forgotten. Movement beside him—Sonia stirring, her hand still clasped in his despite the chaos. Blood trickled from a cut along her temple, vibrant crimson against her skin. Without enhancement, this simple injury seemed catastrophic. "I'm here," she whispered, fingers tightening around his. "Neural interface is completely offline. Enhancement disabled." Alex struggled to orient himself. The train compartment tilted at an unnatural angle, emergency lights flickering weakly. Outside, distant voices shouted commands—structured patterns of communication that could only be Rodriguez security. "They knew," Alex realized,

Twilight descended over the vineyard as Alex and Sonia approached the stone chapel. Ancient and weathered, it stood as a silent sentinel at the property's edge, its limestone walls tinged amber by the setting sun. For Alex, each step toward it felt like walking backward through time—to childhood summers before enhancement, before the weight of the Rodriguez legacy pressed upon him. "There," he whispered, pointing to a section of the east wall where ivy had been carefully cultivated to conceal what lay beneath. "My mother showed me once. I was seven, maybe eight." Sonia moved with cautious purpose, her breathing still shallow from her injury. Though she'd insisted it was superficial, Alex noticed how she guarded her left side, the fabric of her shirt still darkened with dried blood. "You need medical attention," he said, reaching for her instinctively. She caught his hand, her fingers fusing with his. "After we find what we came for." Her eyes met his, determination outweighing

The helicopter's silhouette grew against the morning sky, its rhythmic beating carrying across the countryside. Alex tightened his grip on the wheel while Sonia monitored their pursuit. "Rodriguez Special Operations," she confirmed. "Six operatives minimum, all enhanced." "How long?" Alex asked. "Seven minutes until targeting range. The vintage vehicle helps mask our electronic signature, but not against visual tracking." The Land Rover rumbled beneath them as Alex pushed it to capacity, navigating the rural French landscape. Marseille waited beyond the horizon, promising both sanctuary and danger. "We need to disappear," he said, scanning for opportunity in the rolling hills. Sonia's expression shifted—the micro-expression Alex recognized as strategic realization. "The tunnels. Early twentieth-century smuggling network, repurposed during the resistance." "Rodriguez Corp catalogued them during European expansion," Alex finished. "Father acquired the documentation." The

"A proposition?" James’s holographic image flickered. "I’m listening, brother." Alex felt Sonia’s presence beside him, steady and grounding. Outside, Carlos’s security team patrolled the perimeter of the warehouse—their prison for the next hour. "Mother’s empathy preservation protocol," Alex began. "We can implement it system-wide without triggering Prometheus or Erebus." James’s expression shifted. "You want to use Geneva’s original research to restore autonomy across the Rodriguez network?" "Not reverse," Sonia clarified. "Restore balance—free will without erasing cognitive enhancements." For a fleeting moment, Alex glimpsed the brother he had once known. "It requires simultaneous access to three locations," James noted. "Monaco, Marseille, and—" "Singapore," Alex finished. "We have Europe. You control headquarters." James smirked. "Then it’s fortunate I have allies in unexpected places." He glanced off-screen. "Diana, establish a secure link to Singapore." A famil

The safe house in Marseille's historic Panier district felt like a pressure cooker of unspoken tensions. Moonlight spilled through antique windows, casting shadows across weathered wooden floors that had witnessed centuries of secrets. The walls seemed to breathe with the weight of hidden narratives, each crack and crevice holding memories that predated the current occupants. Sonia's fingers traced the edge of a classified document, her profile illuminated by the soft glow of a single lamp. Its warm light created a stark contrast against the cool, calculated intensity of her expression. Alex watched her, memorizing every subtle movement—the way her brow furrowed when something didn't align, the almost subtle rhythm of her breathing that betrayed nothing of the storm brewing beneath her composed exterior. "We can't trust anyone," she whispered, not looking up. Her voice carried the weight of everything they'd survived—years of covert operations, near-death experiences, and a connec