The air in the subterranean silo stopped moving.The violent, screeching destruction of the quantum servers abruptly halted, the overloading processors cooling with an unnatural, terrifying speed. The heat radiating from the abyss vanished, replaced by a profound, clinical silence that felt infinitely more dangerous than the explosions.Ethan slowly turned toward the dropped phone lying on the grated steel. The blood from his shattered shoulder was soaking his heavy coat, pooling at his feet next to his father’s lifeless body, but he didn't seem to feel it.He stared at the device, a psychological fault line cracking straight down the center of his mind.“Jessica,” Ethan rasped, his voice barely more than a jagged breath.“Not quite, my darling boy,” the voice whispered through the phone. It was elegant. It was precise. It possessed the chilling, aristocratic resonance of Cassandra Vale. But the cadence, the imperceptible hesitation before the vowels—it was identical to the woman who
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