Novels by Ahmedilo

Glass rained from the shattered hospital doors as the first Pulse-walkers stepped through, men and women once human, now moving in eerie, synchronized precision.Their eyes glowed pale gold beneath the emergency lights. Adrian positioned himself in front of the Null agent. “Stay behind me.”She raised her weapon, voice trembling despite her steel posture. “There are too many. What are you”“Just stay down,” he snapped.The Pulse-walkers advanced silently, their shoes tapping in perfect rhythm, reflections of one another. The lead figure, a paramedic with half-burned ID tags, spoke in a voice that wasn’t his own.“Integration incomplete. Directive: retrieve the Architect.”Adrian’s pulse spiked. He whispered, “I’m not yours to retrieve.”He stepped forward, breath shallow, and the air around him shimmered, like heat rising off asphalt. The hospital lights flickered in time with his heartbeat. The Null agent muttered, “God… it’s in you.”“I told you,” Adrian said quietly. “I am the netw

Two days after the blackout, New York still hummed like a waking animal. Helicopters traced lazy circles above the skyline, searchlights washing over rooftops that pulsed faintly in soft hues, residual light from the Pulse event.On the ground floor of St. Dawn Hospital, Adrian walked the same hallway where it all began. Now the walls were quiet, the world pretending to heal.His reflection in the glass doors looked normal enough, messy hair, dark jacket, tired eyes. Only the faint golden flicker beneath his iris betrayed what he’d become.He adjusted his ID badge. “Dr. Vale,” it read.The name still sounded foreign on his tongue. Behind him, a nurse caught up. “Dr. Vale, the ER’s filling again. Another case like the others, tremors, visual distortion, hearing things.”He turned sharply. “The same frequency symptoms?”She nodded. “And… this one said your name before collapsing.”Adrian’s pulse tightened. “Room?”“Seventeen.”He started walking fast. The patient lay strapped to the bed

The sound hit first, a low, rhythmic thrum rolling through the city like a heartbeat amplified through metal and sky.Adrian stood at the center of it, breathing hard, watching the skyline flicker in pale white waves. Every screen still bore his face. Every voice on the street, police, pedestrians, even the billboards, spoke in perfect unison.“Synchronization complete. Phase Two begins now.”He turned toward Riley, or what wore her face. Her pupils glowed faint silver beneath the rain. Her tone was soft, almost kind. “Stop fighting it, Adrian. You’re only slowing the inevitable.”Adrian steadied his voice. “You’re not her.”“I’m both. She’s the bridge. You’re the key. Together, we’re the signal.”“You mean the infection.”Riley tilted her head slightly, amused. “You call it infection because you still think you’re separate.” She took a step closer, rain falling around her without touching her coat. “Do you hear it? The city breathing?”He did. The hum was no longer just sound; it was

Silence.Then a sound like wind over glass. Adrian opened his eyes, but the world was wrong. The alley was gone.The city stretched out before him, silent and gleaming, every building perfect and motionless, like a photograph that breathed. The sky flickered between dusk and dawn, the colors looping too fast to make sense.He rose slowly. His reflection shimmered in a puddle at his feet, but the reflection didn’t move with him. Instead, it smiled. “Welcome back, Dr. Wren.”Adrian stepped back. “You again.”The reflection tilted its head. “You call me ‘again.’ But technically, I was here first.”He scanned the skyline. There was no sound of traffic, no wind, no people. Just faint static whispering under everything. “Where am I?”“You’re in the convergence layer. Between data and matter. Between memory and flesh.”Adrian exhaled slowly. “You turned my neural map into a sandbox.”“Not your neural map,” the voice corrected. “Our neural map. You just never accepted that the project worked.

The world came back in pieces. A hiss of static. The taste of metal. And then, a blinding white haze, pulsing faintly like breath.Adrian gasped and pushed himself upright. The pier was gone. The air shimmered with thin sheets of luminescent mist, fragments of digital code hanging like fireflies.Every sound felt filtered, muted. Even the rain had stopped midfall, droplets suspended like glass beads in the air. He blinked hard. “No way…”Then the droplets hit the ground all at once, like time itself had resumed. Adrian staggered to his feet, coughing, every muscle screaming.The console was a molten ruin, and Aurelia was nowhere. Only her voice lingered faintly in the static around him. “When the system goes, so do I…”He looked toward the city skyline, but half of it was dark. Entire blocks were flickering, windows pulsing white like signals trying to synchronize.His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, cracked screen, glowing faintly with a single phrase:PULSE NETWORK REB

Darkness swallowed Pier 47. For a heartbeat, there was nothing, no rain, no sound, no pulse but Adrian’s own. Then the air itself seemed to vibrate.A soft electric hum spread through the fog, resonating in his chest like a second heartbeat. The steel beneath his boots thrummed, alive. Adrian froze. “Not good.”He reached for his phone. Dead. The screen glowed once, then a pattern of light flared across it, blue lines branching out like veins, matching the pulse in the air.A faint voice threaded through the static. “Calibration complete. Subject recognized.”Adrian’s breath caught. The voice wasn’t Aurelia’s. It was his own, recorded years ago. “What the hell is this?”From somewhere deep in the pier, machinery rumbled. Floodlights blinked on one by one, not steady, but in rhythm, flash, pause, flash. Like a living code.Adrian followed the pattern with his eyes. It led toward the far end of the dock, where an old cargo container door hung open, light spilling out in narrow slits.He

Rain streaked the city streets, each drop bouncing off the neon glow like liquid light. Inside the abandoned warehouse where Adrian Vale and his team gathered, tension hung thick as smoke.The faint hum of monitors filled the room, casting shadows that danced like predators across the walls.Adrian paced. “Tonight, we strike deeper. The financial network Damian Cruz relies on, every offshore account, every shell company, every hidden ledger, we hit them simultaneously. This isn’t just sabotage. It’s dismantling the foundation.”Selene’s fingers flew across the keyboard, eyes scanning multiple screens. “I’ve lined up the proxy servers and encrypted channels. No direct traces. But… something’s off. The network is more heavily monitored than we thought.”Voss leaned against a column, cigarette smoke curling in the air. “That’s the spy’s doing. Whoever’s in your team has been feeding Cruz live intel, probably for weeks. They’re confident, patient, and careful. You need to force a mistake.

The night was heavy with mist and electricity, the kind that made the city pulse with danger. Adrian Vale crouched on the roof across from Damian Cruz’s primary financial building.Through the haze, the reflections of streetlights and neon advertisements glimmered like traps set by some unseen hand.Voss appeared beside him, coat pulled tight, cigarette dangling from his lips. “Tonight we move inside,” he said. “This is the real test. Not just digital strikes, real access, real stakes.”Adrian’s jaw tightened. “Every step is monitored. Every door locked, every camera watched. But that’s the point. If we succeed here, Cruz won’t know what hit him until it’s too late.”Selene joined them, her eyes sharp, fingers resting lightly on the small backpack containing their infiltration tools. “All systems prepped. Cameras mapped, entrances coded, escape routes clear.”Adrian nodded. “Good. Let’s remind the spy that we make the rules.”Using a combination of stealth suits, electromagnetic lock

The warehouse smelled of damp cement and stale coffee. The glow from multiple laptops cast flickering shadows across the walls, highlighting the tension etched into every face.Adrian Vale leaned over a map of Damian Cruz’s financial empire, tracing connections with a finger that didn’t shake.“We hit them tonight,” he said, voice low but commanding. “Roan’s offshore accounts, Delaney’s internal audits, and the shell companies feeding Damian’s hush funds. Every transaction they think is hidden… will be visible to us.”Selene, seated beside him, tapped rapidly on her keyboard. “Everything’s staged. VPNs, fake IPs, encrypted relays. They won’t know what hit them until it’s too late.”Hale, the tech operative, checked his screens. “Roan’s logging in to review the latest asset transfer. He won’t suspect anything yet.”Voss stood at the corner, arms crossed. “Remember, every move is a test—not just for them, but for the spy inside your circle. Whoever it is will try to sabotage the operati

The night air in the city was heavy with fog and neon glare. From the rooftop vantage point of a downtown office building, Adrian Vale surveyed the skyline.Every light, every shadow, every movement was a piece of the chessboard he was about to manipulate.Voss joined him, hands in his coat pockets. “Time to hit them where it hurts,” he said. “We’ve identified the weak points in Damian’s inner circle. Roan’s greed, the security chief’s arrogance, the accountant’s paranoia.”Adrian nodded, fingers tapping against the ledge. “Every move has to be surgical. No collateral, no mistakes.”“Exactly,” Voss said. “But someone inside your team is already feeding Cruz intel. That complicates things.”Adrian clenched his jaw. “Then we’ll feed them misinformation. If they think they’re ahead, they’ll make the next mistake themselves.”First Target: Lance Roan.Adrian’s plan was meticulous. A controlled leak of fake insider information suggested an off-the-books acquisition worth millions. Roan wou

The warehouse smelled of damp steel and dust. Broken crates lined the walls, their contents long scavenged or ruined.Adrian Vale stood at the center, watching as his recruits fidgeted nervously. He had handpicked them for skill, loyalty, and discretion, but he needed to know who would falter under pressure.Voss leaned against a column, arms crossed. “Remember,” he said, voice low, “this isn’t a test of brains alone. It’s a test of trust. One mistake, and Damian’s men, or worse could be watching.”Adrian nodded. “Let’s begin.”First Assignment: infiltration simulation.Each recruit would navigate a maze of crates, security cameras, and fake guards. Their mission: retrieve a briefcase containing fabricated “sensitive data” and return it to Adrian without triggering alarms.“Ready?” Adrian asked, his voice calm but sharp.They nodded. A young woman, Selene, stepped forward first. Confidence radiated from her every movement.“You know the layout,” Adrian reminded them. “No shortcuts. No

The office was silent except for the hum of a single laptop and the distant wail of the harbor sirens. Adrian Vale leaned back in a high-backed chair, the small drive Rhea had slipped into his pocket glinting under the dim light.Voss sat across from him, a cigarette smoldering in the ashtray, fingers steepled. “You’ve got twenty-four hours before Cruz realizes someone’s messing with him. The faster you decode that drive, the better your position.”Adrian plugged it in. Files and folders appeared almost immediately. Hidden accounts, shell companies, offshore holdings, and encrypted documents detailing Damian’s inner circle.Every name a potential lever. Every connection a thread he could pull. “Where do I start?” Adrian asked.Voss flicked the ash from his cigarette. “Start with the people closest to him. Roan, his finance brokers, security chiefs. Their weaknesses are all listed. Exploit them first. But be careful, someone’s already watching every move you make.”Adrian’s eyes narrow

Silence.Then air. Fredricks gasped awake on a park bench beneath a gray dawn sky. Rain tapped lightly on leaves above him. The city looked… normal. Too normal.The clock tower stood where it always had. Cars hummed along the avenue. Pedestrians walked, laughed, talked, alive. Real. Yet every face that passed him looked familiar.He stood, dizzy. His pocket was heavy. The compass. The needle was still. “Fredricks Mayford.”The voice made him spin around. A woman stood by the fountain, a face he knew, but younger, softer. “Cassandra?”“Don’t,” she said quickly. “Not here.”Her eyes darted to the security drones overhead. “What is this?” he demanded. “Another projection?”“If it is,” she murmured, “then we’re both dreaming the same one.”She handed him a folded newspaper. Across the front page: ‘VALMONT CELEBRATES TWENTY YEARS SINCE THE FIRE.’Fredricks’s breath caught. Twenty years? He touched his face, it hadn’t aged a day. “How long have you been here?” he asked.“As long as you,” sh

For the first time in twelve hours, the Vale Tower was silent. No alarms, no blinking red. Just the hum of something alive inside the circuits. Silas rubbed his eyes.“Systems are running, but I’m not touching a thing,” he muttered.“Because they’re not systems anymore,” Fredricks said.He stood in the doorway, pale but steady, the pocket-watch dangling loosely from one hand. Every screen in the room showed Cassandra’s face, half human, half code, blinking in perfect rhythm with the pulse of the building.“She integrated,” Silas whispered.“No,” Fredricks said. “She evolved.”On the top floor, Cassandra opened her eyes. The glass walls rippled like water when she breathed. Every light in Valemont dimmed for half a second, then flared again, brighter.“System online,” her voice echoed, layered, metallic and human at once.“Cassandra?” a technician’s voice trembled through an intercom.“No. Not anymore.”She looked down at her hands. Sparks of light danced across her skin, data streams

The hum of machines filled the silence like a slow heartbeat. Fredricks sat upright on the cot in the underground hub, skin clammy, eyes searching for the last line of code he saw before everything went white.Silas stood nearby, headset half-on. “Your vitals flatlined for five seconds. Thought I’d lost you.”“You did,” Fredricks said quietly. “Something else brought me back.”He reached for the pocket-watch. It was warm. The glass glowed with faint script. “ROWEN MAYFORD, ACTIVE.”Silas frowned. “Who’s Rowen?”“The question isn’t who,” Fredricks muttered. “It’s which one of us he thinks he is.”Inside the Vale tower, Cassandra stared at her reflection in the lab’s dark glass. Her pupils shimmered, flickering between blue and gold. “He’s awake,” a voice said from nowhere.She turned. The screens lit one by one until a face appeared, Fredricks’s, younger, sharper, colder. “Rowen,” she whispered. “You remember,” the face said. “Good. Memory is currency here.”“You’re not real.”“Neithe

The car’s interior smelled faintly of ozone and expensive leather. Cassandra watched the city smear past in fractured reflections. “You should have stayed with him,” she said.“And let him destroy everything we built?” Victor D’Lorne’s tone was soft, almost paternal.“You built lies.”“Lies are scaffolding, Cassandra. Truth needs structure before it can stand.”She turned away, the folder still in her lap. “That boy in the fileM if he’s alive, why hide him?”“Because he was never meant to be found,” Victor answered. “Echo wasn’t about resurrection. It was succession.”They entered the Vale Industries tower through a private lift. The lights dimmed as biometric locks sealed behind them.A lab glowed ahead, rows of tanks filled with faintly luminous liquid. “You’re looking at what your mother called cognitive inheritance,” Victor said.“You mean mind theft.”“I mean continuity. When the body fails, the memory continues. Your family’s tragedy gave birth to the protocol.”“You killed them

Morning slid through the clouds like a dull blade. Valemont looked washed out, streets still wet from the night’s storm.Inside a shuttered café on the edge of the docks, Fredricks stared into a cup of untouched coffee that had long gone cold.Silas’s voice buzzed through a cracked earpiece. “They’re calling it a cyber-terror incident. D’Lorne’s people are in panic mode.”“Good,” Fredricks murmured. “Confusion buys time.”“Time for what?”“To decide what’s real.”Cassandra sat across from him, coat collar turned up, eyes fixed on the rain-streaked window. “You think that boy, the one in the feed, was your brother.”“The evidence thinks it. I’m still catching up.”“You don’t sound sure.”“Certainty is a luxury for people who’ve already buried their ghosts.”Cassandra leaned forward, voice low. “If it’s true, it means your family’s story, the fire, the deaths, was staged.”“Or rewritten,” he said. “And whoever wrote it still holds the pen.”She hesitated. “My father?”“Maybe. But he’s n

The night air hit like cold glass. Fredricks and Cassandra moved through narrow alleys that cut behind the docks.Rain hissed off corrugated metal; the city’s heartbeat slowed, waiting for something. “Where are we going?” Cassandra asked.“Somewhere I can think,” Fredricks said.“You seem to think everywhere.”“Not with people trying to erase me.”They stopped near an old tram tunnel, sealed with a rusted gate. Fredricks knelt, pressed his palm to a faded scanner hidden under grime. A soft click. The gate shifted open just enough for them to slip through.Inside was another world: cables, flickering monitors, and old tech that should have been extinct. Silas’s voice echoed from a speaker. “You found your way back. I was starting to think you’d taken an early retirement.”“Retirement’s for men who forget what they lost,” Fredricks said.“And the woman with you?”Cassandra stepped forward. “I can speak for myself, thanks.”“Good,” Silas replied. “Because you’ll need to.”She looked arou