Adonis stepped closer, urgency etched on his face.
“Tell me.”
I swallowed hard, my throat feeling parched.
“He didn’t merely raise me to be a weapon. He crafted me.”
The air felt charged with that admission. Noah’s gaze was fixed on me now—not with pity, but with shared pain. For me. With me.
“I uncovered files in his command center,” I continued. “Gene enhancements. Cognitive conditioning. Injections. Hormonal suppression during my childhood. I wasn’t just trained to be a soldier. I was engineered to be a bioweapon.”
Adonis’s mouth opened slightly, but no words emerged.
“Years of research,” I added, my heart heavy. “Years spent turning his daughter into a test subject—all in the name of ‘purity of purpose.’ He never fought for anyone but himself, for his twisted vision of power. He’s not just a rogue agent, Adonis.”
I held his gaze, icy and resolute.
“He’s a terrorist.”
Adonis finally found his voice, rough and strained. “Jesus Christ.”
“No,” I replied firmly. “He doesn’t get to hide behind God anymore.”
He exhaled slowly, grounding himself. “Alright. We’ll classify this as a black-level threat. I’ll ensure the intel is scrubbed and encrypted. I’ll reach out to Lillian—she’s already trying to contact you.”
My heart tightened at the mention of her name. I hadn’t spoken to her since before our departure.
“Tell her I’m okay,” I whispered. “Just… not quite ready yet.”
He nodded tightly. “She’ll understand.”
The transport back was quiet.
Noah sat next to me again, his shoulder brushing mine only once, like an accident. But I didn’t move away.
Outside, the world blurred past — trees, shadows, sky. But inside me, everything was painfully clear.
I had been built in a lab of lies. Crafted like a weapon, raised like a machine. Not a daughter.
A product.
And he still called it love.
But as I looked at Noah — the way he stared out the window, jaw clenched, fists resting gently on his knees — I realized something else:
If I was made to destroy,
somehow, I’d still found someone who made mewantto protect.
And maybe that was where the weapon ends…
and the human begins.
Noah
Adonis’ office was silent, except for the faint hum of the old light above us and the low buzz of the screens running recon footage behind his desk.
I stood against the far wall, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the floor. Liam sat half-slouched in one of the leather chairs, tapping his pen on a folder. Adonis was still behind his desk, elbows on the wood, hands laced under his chin.
