THE PROFESSOR'S DIRTY CLAIM
The building was crawling with hybrids.
They fought through the main entrance bullets, knives, desperate kicks. Alex’s pregnancy made him slower, but the child seemed to lend him strength, the kicks syncing with his shots, almost guiding his aim.
They reached the central server chamber.
The Core remnant was still there weakened, but pulsing.
Damian plugged in the kill codes.
The system resisted.
The Matriarch’s final backup protocols had activated.
A holographic version of her appeared above the console.
“You cannot stop what I began,” she said, voice calm. “The fleet is only the beginning. The child will be born. The bloodline will continue. Through me.”