They reached the safehouse just before dawn.
Hidden in the outskirts of Prague, the old monastery stood like a relic from a forgotten war — its thick stone walls pockmarked by time, vines climbing its weathered façade. No power lines, no digital signature. Just candlelight and silence.
Eris disappeared into the shadows first, clearing the perimeter.
Dominic held the door open for Amelia.
"You okay?" he asked.
She nodded, but the lie sat bitter on her tongue.
She wasn't okay.
Not after what Kestrel had shown her. Not after learning she might have been a prototype — or worse, a copy.
Inside, the air smelled of cold stone and lavender oil. Eris had clearly been here before. A hidden refuge she'd never trusted enough to share — until now.
Amelia collapsed onto the wooden bench near the fireplace. She didn't even flinch when Dominic sat beside her, brushing some dust off his jacket.
"You haven't said much since we left the compound," he said gently.
"There's too much to say," she murmured. "And not enough air to say it with."
Dominic waited.
He always waited — like he knew she needed the silence more than the words.
"I don't know what's real anymore," she whispered, staring into the cold fireplace.
"What parts of my memories are mine, what parts they built."
He reached out, slowly, like she might flinch.
But she didn't.
His hand rested over hers. Warm, solid. Real.
"This is real," he said. "Your fear, your fire, your choice to keep fighting. They couldn't fabricate that."
A beat.
Then she looked at him, eyes stormy and wet.
"Do you ever think," she asked, "we're just pieces of someone else's design? That we were never meant to escape it?"
Dominic exhaled. "Every day."
She turned her hand over, lacing her fingers into his.
"I need you to tell me everything now. No more edited truths."
He hesitated. But then nodded.
And so he told her — about his time in Kairox, before he defected. How they'd experimented with cloning and memory scaffolding. How they tried to make perfect agents from broken people.
How she was the only one who ever survived full neural reconstruction with no side effects.
Or so they thought.
"What about Kestrel?" she asked.
"Kestrel wasn't just a product. He was the architect behind a lot of the tech. He loved the game — the way he could break people, then remake them. But when they started using it to erase identities, he snapped. Went rogue."
Amelia's lips curled bitterly. "Snapped, or evolved?"
"Maybe both."
"And me?" she asked, voice low. "What was I before all this?"
Dominic looked away. "Your file was sealed, even from me. But there's a pattern in the genetic code they used on you. A cipher. You left it for yourself."
Her brows lifted. "I did what?"
"It's a failsafe. You embedded a neural code that only you could decrypt — in case Kairox tried to erase you again."
He pulled a small vial from his pocket.
"This was inside Kestrel's lab. It's encrypted, but I think it's part of your original identity. Or the key to unlocking it."
Amelia took the vial slowly. It shimmered with faint, blue particles.
A piece of herself. Waiting.
"Let me think," she whispered, her thumb brushing the glass.
A storm brewed inside her. Memories knocking, begging for entrance.
She needed time. And clarity.
But first, sleep.
Or something close to it.
That night, the wind howled against the monastery walls.
Dominic stayed by the fireplace, keeping watch, but his eyes often drifted toward the hallway — to where she slept, or tried to.
In her dreams, Amelia saw flashes.
A girl running barefoot through a burning hallway.
A man calling her name — not Dominic. Someone else.
And a voice in the dark whispering: Find the Phantom Code.
She woke with a start.
Not screaming, but breathless.
Sweat slicked her spine.
She slipped from the bed and padded down the corridor barefoot, drawn by the faint glow of the fire.
Dominic was there. Still awake. Eyes heavy but alert.
"You don't sleep much," she said.
"I sleep better knowing you're okay."
That pulled a faint smile from her.
"I had a dream," she murmured. "A memory, maybe. Someone said something about a Phantom Code."
Dominic stood, crossing to her.
"That's what the scientists called it," he said. "The strand of encrypted DNA they couldn't control. The one Kestrel was obsessed with unlocking."
"And it's inside me?"
He nodded. "Which is why they could never let you go. They weren't just trying to erase you. They were trying to copy you."
She leaned against the stone wall, heart pounding.
"What if I'm not the original?" she asked.
Dominic stepped closer. His hand touched her cheek, thumb brushing lightly against her skin.
"I don't care who came first," he said. "The version standing in front of me — the one who fights, who questions, who loves — that's the only one I want."
Her breath hitched.
And she kissed him.
Not desperate. Not explosive.
Just soft.
Slow.
Like she was finally allowing herself to feel something that hadn't been manufactured or stolen.
His hands slid around her waist, anchoring her.
For a moment, the ghosts went quiet.
Then a sound split the night — faint, metallic.
A ping.
Dominic drew back, eyes narrowing.
"What was that?"
Amelia's blood ran cold.
The signal had been dormant for weeks.
She sprinted to the back room, where she'd hidden the stolen Kairox comm.
It was glowing.
A new message:
WE KNOW YOU'RE AWAKE.
ECHO HAS BEEN ACTIVATED.
YOU HAVE 72 HOURS.
Amelia's fingers tightened around the device.
Dominic appeared behind her, face pale.
"What is ECHO?" she asked.
He hesitated.
Then: "It's their resurrection protocol."
Her eyes widened. "Kestrel?"
"No," Dominic said grimly. "Worse."
He turned the screen toward her.
A photo appeared.
Not Kestrel.
Not a clone.
But her.
An exact double — staring dead into the camera.