“What did you say?”
Did I speak?
“Obsidian Protocol.” I swivel the laptop toward him. “Referenced seventeen times across different files. I can’t find any description, just the name. I wonder what it is?”
He’s silent long enough for dread to creep under my skin. His jaw flexes once, muscle ticking. Eyes hinting at something—memory, caution, maybe fear.
“Phoenix,” he says at last, quiet enough that I almost miss it.
“Like the city?” I frown, trying to follow. “Or the bird?”
He exhales slowly, eyes still on the screen. “No. Phoenix isn’t a place. It’s—complicated. And dangerous.”
I blink. “You’ve heard of it.”
He hesitates—just a flicker, but it’s there. “Cerberus came across the name. A self-protecting system.”
“And you think it’s connected to this?” I tap the phrase glowing in the code.
The cursor blinks between us, waiting. The hum of the laptop fills the silence. Somewhere outside, a siren wails, distant and fading.
Jackson’s jaw tightens again, eyes narrowing as he watches the data scroll. “If Obsidian is tied to Phoenix,” he says quietly, “then you just tripped something that doesn’t want to be found.”
I swallow, pulse hammering. “Something—like an AI?”
He exhales slowly, gaze still locked on the code. “Something smarter than that. Self-aware. Self-protecting.” His voice drops lower, a thread of steel beneath the calm. “And I think we just discovered why multiple kill squads have been sent after you and your lead, Victor.”
The words hang in the air, heavy and irreversible, as the screen flickers—just once—like it’s listening.
“What can you tell me about Phoenix?”
“Military AI. Autonomous targeting system.” His voice is carefully controlled. “Officially terminated. Unofficially?—”
“Still operational.” The pieces click together. My brain lights up, connecting disparate nodes. The black SUV. The precise timing of the hit. The coordinated assault. “That’s why Morrison gave me your number? He knew this connected to Phoenix?”
“Morrison didn’t know about Phoenix. He was just our FBI contact.” Jackson’s tone darkens, every word deliberate. “But whatever your source dug up—Phoenix is cleaning up.”
I freeze. “How does a pharmaceutical company access military AI?”
“Same way they get everything,” he says grimly. “Money. Power. Connections. Someone high up is involved.”
“And this Phoenix killed Victor?”
Jackson’s jaw flexes. “We need more data, but it’s suspicious. If Phoenix is involved, it not only tracked and killed Victor—it’s hunting you now.”
The chill that rolls through me is almost physical. I turn back to the laptop, fingers flying across keys. Focus. The data is safe. The data makes sense.
I pull up Victor’s research logs. Cross-reference his last communications. My screen fills with names—researchers who collaborated on the Meridian trials. I run quick searches, pulling public records, obituaries, anything.
“Lydia Crawford,” I read aloud. A news clipping loads, cheerful photo, tragic headline. “Dead a month ago. Car accident.”
Another search. “Marcus Thornton. Suicide. Two weeks ago.”
I keep going, scrolling faster now. Every click is another jolt of disbelief. Another obituary. Another end.
“They’re all dead,” I whisper. “Every researcher who questioned the trials. Car accidents. Suicides. Heart attacks.” I pull up a spreadsheet, start building a timeline, my pulse syncing to the rhythmic tapping of keys. “But the timing—it’s not random.”
Jackson leans closer, the warmth of his presence grounding and terrifying all at once.
