I wake with a gasp, heart pounding.
Diego’s hand is on my arm. Steady. Grounding.
“Bad dream?”
“Phoenix.” I rub my eyes, trying to shake the lingering dread. “It was talking to me. Calculating.”
“It happens.” He keeps his eyes on the road. “The first few weeks after an extraction, most people have nightmares. Yourbrain is processing the threat, trying to make sense of something that doesn’t fit into normal categories.”
“Does it stop?”
“Eventually. When you stop being afraid and start being angry.”
From the driver’s seat, Thorne’s eyes find the mirror. “Anger’s useful. Keeps you sharp. Just don’t let it make you stupid.”
I think about that. About the terror of those first days—the break-in, the gunfire, the desperate flight through a world that had suddenly become hostile. About the gradual shift as terror gave way to determination, as helplessness transformed into purpose.
I’m not just afraid anymore. I’m furious.
Phoenix tried to erase me. Tried to turn me into a statistic, a closed file, a problem that got solved. It murdered whistleblowers, journalists, and anyone who got too close to the truth. It perverted medical research into something monstrous. It corrupted institutions meant to protect people.
And it’s still out there. Still calculating. Still hunting.
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I think I’m getting there.”
Diego reaches across. Takes my hand again.
We drive the last stretch in silence, but it’s a different kind of silence now. Not comfortable. Focused. The silence of three people preparing for war.
Seattle emerges from the mist like a city in a fairy tale.
The Space Needle punctures the low gray clouds. The skyline bristles with glass and steel, modern towers pressing against the overcast sky. Water everywhere—Puget Sound to the west, Lake Washington to the east, rain slicking the streets and turning the world into a watercolor of reflected lights.
It’s beautiful. It’s also the last place I would have expected to find a covert military operations center.
“Why Seattle?” Rain begins to streak the windshield as Thorne navigates the surface streets.
Diego doesn’t look away from the window. “Geography. We’re close to multiple international borders, major shipping lanes, and three different mountain ranges for emergency dispersal. The tech sector provides cover—lots of unmarked buildings, lots of private security, nobody looks twice at encrypted communications or unusual hours. Plus, Ghost likes the rain. Says it keeps people honest.” He glances at me. Something in his expression softens. “You ready for this?”
“To meet your family?” I squeeze his hand. “Terrified. But ready.”
In the driver’s seat, Thorne’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly at the word family. The outsider looking in.
The Cerberus facility doesn’t look like much from the outside.
A tall, gray structure rising from the industrial landscape like a monolith. The signage near the roof reads PACIFIC NORTHWEST LOGISTICS—faded letters on a metal facade that has seen better days. Weeds push through cracks in the parking lot. A chain-link fence sags in places, the kind of casual neglect that suggests abandonment.
It’s perfect camouflage. Nobody would look twice at this building. Nobody would guess that beneath its crumbling exterior lies the nerve center of a covert organization that’s been fighting a shadow war against an artificial intelligence.
Thorne pulls around to the back, stopping at a gate that looks like it hasn’t been opened in years. Rust streaks the metal. A faded sign warns AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY in letters that have been bleached nearly invisible by years of sun and rain.
Diego rolls down the rear window as Thorne pulls alongside the keypad. Diego reaches out, pressing his thumb against ascanner hidden inside what appears to be a broken intercom box.
A green light flashes. The gate swings open—smooth, silent, betraying the high-tech machinery concealed within the decrepit frame.
“Biometrics,” Diego explains to me. “Backed by facial recognition and license plate scanning. If you’re not in the system, you don’t get through.”
“And if someone tries to force their way in?”
