Morning came with snowfall. Thick and silent.
Aria found an old desk in the back of the inn—inside it, a locked drawer. She picked the lock with a bobby pin, the way Amara had once taught her when they were kids.
Inside?
Letters.
Dozens.
All addressed to her.
All in her father's handwriting.
Hands shaking, she opened the first.
Dearest Aria,If you're reading this, it means I've failed to keep the world from you. From what we did. From what we were trying to protect.
She read another.
The serum wasn't for power. It was for survival. Your mother—she was the first to carry the gene. You were the second.
And another.
You're the key. And if they find you, they'll twist you into something you were never meant to be.
Aria dropped the letter, heart thundering.
She wasn't just a pawn.
She was the reason the game existed.
When she turned, Xander was there.
"I wanted to tell you," he said softly.
Aria didn't speak.
She couldn't.
He stepped closer. "Your mother died trying to destroy the serum. But they brought it back. Rebuilt the lab. And now they want you to finish what she started—or die trying."
Aria stared at him.
"Why me?" she whispered.
"Because you're not just a survivor, Aria," he said. "You're the weapon they couldn't build. And the only one who can burn them to the ground."