Florence breathed with the weight of old gods and new sins.
Dominic knew every corner of the city — the dead drop alleys, the surveillance shadows, the way sound bounced off ancient stone when you were being followed. But tonight, it all felt wrong.
Because Amelia hadn't called.
Not once.
She'd gone quiet. And when she went quiet, people usually ended up dead.
He reached the rooftop of the decoy safehouse, heart pounding louder than the rain on the tiles. Something prickled at the back of his mind — instinct, sharpened from years of hunting people who were trained to vanish.
Below, the old monastery doors creaked open. No resistance.
Too easy.
He pulled his gun, silencer already mounted. Room by room, he moved like smoke — until he reached the central chamber.
There was no one.
Only a tape recorder, sitting on the floor.
He recognized the model instantly — a Kairox relay. Discontinued tech. Illegal in every country with a human rights council. Meant for messages… or psychological traps.
He crouched and hit play.
A distorted voice buzzed through:
"She remembered everything. But not because of you. You lied to her, Dominic."
His stomach dropped.
"You said she volunteered for the project. But I was there when she screamed, when they strapped her down. You chose not to tell her the truth."
Kestrel's voice. Calm. Controlled.
"The moment she finds out, she won't run back to you. She'll burn for me."
Dominic stood still for a beat, heart frozen mid-thump. Then—
Boom.
The side of the monastery exploded inward in a rain of fire and stone. Dominic hit the floor, rolling under the altar as concrete shards burst across the space like bullets.
He reached for his communicator, choking through the smoke.
"Amelia! Do not trust Kestrel—"
Static.
Then another voice came through — this time clear, female, mechanical.
"Subject 04: Compromised. Agent D: Expired."
Dominic's blood chilled.
Expired?
The label wasn't accidental.
Someone had just put a bounty on him.
He stumbled into the street, half-blind, ears ringing. The café where Amelia met Kael had vanished — its terrace crumbled, windows blown in. An unmarked van screamed past him.
Inside, he caught a glimpse: two figures. One slumped forward. The other... watching him.
Kestrel.
Their eyes locked for a brief second.
And Kestrel smiled.
Elsewhere. Unknown Location.
Amelia came to, disoriented, wrists bound in padded steel cuffs. A sterile white room. Her mind sluggish, fogged.
Kestrel stood across from her, arms folded.
No smile now. Only calculation.
"Where am I?" she rasped.
"Someplace safe," he said. "Until the memory stabilizes."
She yanked at the cuffs. "You lied to me."
"I protected you."
"You drugged me."
Kestrel approached slowly. "You were slipping. The truth was fracturing you. I couldn't risk you running again — not when we're so close."
Her voice cracked. "Close to what?"
"To taking Kairox down."
He pressed a remote. A panel on the wall slid open, revealing a dozen live feeds.
Surveillance. Politicians. Soldiers. Ordinary people in train stations. Each one with a code.
"Replicas?" she whispered.
Kestrel nodded. "You were their seed. The first viable synthetic with independent emotion. They wiped you when you became unstable. I was supposed to oversee the replacement. But I couldn't do it."
He moved closer, his voice lower now, intimate. "Because I loved you. Before they rewrote us. And I still do."
Her eyes filled, but she looked away.
"I don't know what's real anymore."
Kael reached into his jacket — pulled out a necklace. Silver. Worn. Her mother's locket.
"I kept it," he said quietly. "They tried to burn everything. But I saved this."
Tears slipped down her cheeks before she could stop them.
He cupped her face. "They'll come for us. But this time, we're ready."
Meanwhile.
Dominic stood before a wall of bodies in a Kairox facility — people half-formed, twitching under red lights, wires digging into skulls.
"Jesus," he whispered.
A technician groaned on the floor behind him, clutching a shattered knee.
Dominic grabbed him by the collar. "How many?"
"Fifty-two in rotation," the man sobbed.
"Three high-profile infiltrations in place. Phase Echo begins in forty-eight hours."
Dominic's heart stopped.
Phase Echo meant global deployment.
He dropped the man, turned to leave — but froze.
On the screen above: AMELIA.
A live feed.
Strapped to a gurney. Kestrel whispering something to her. Her face unreadable.
And then… she looked directly into the camera.
Eyes wide. Lips parted.
And mouthed one word:
"Run."