Which means containment alone won’t save her.
That thought hits harder than I expect.
I check a narrow alley that shouldn’t matter and absolutely does. Nothing there. Yet.
My comm clicks again. “You’re going to hate this,” Ronan says.
“I usually do.”
“Someone just probed one of the dead accounts on the list. Not to access it. To see if it would respond.”
A chill goes through me.
“They’re testing for consciousness,” I say.
“They’re testing to see if she’s awake.”
I look back toward the building.
Toward Lark.
Brilliant. Stubborn. Principled.
And already thinking three moves ahead of me.
“Lock the digital surface,” I say. “Quietly. Don’t spook it.”
“Already doing it.”
I end the call and change direction.
I don’t run.
But I move faster.
Because something has changed.
Not outside.
Inside.
For the first time since Lisbon, I don’t just feel like I’m guarding a target.
I feel like I’m standing next to someone who is about to step onto the battlefield whether I want her to or not.
And the worst part?
Part of me knows she’s right.
Location:Unknown
The system breathes.
Not in data.
In response.
The probe was not meant to enter.
