POV: DannyFlashing lights. Strange sounds in my ears.I was conscious again.Air. I needed air.I gasped, bolting upright, my hands clutching the soft mattress beneath me. Mattress?My eyes adjusted to the gentle light—not the cruel glare of the exam room anymore, but an amber glow, almost cozy.I was in a cell.But what kind of cell had carpet?I looked around, my senses still muddled. The walls were made of matte white metal, no sharp corners, as if molded to keep me from hurting myself. A wide bed, a small bathroom behind a frosted glass panel, even a flat-screen TV built into the wall.And a camera. In the upper corner, a black lens watched me, unblinking.“Good morning, Daniel.”The voice came from a hidden speaker, neutral, professional.“Where the fuck am I?” I growled, rubbing my wrists. The marks from the restraints were still there—purple lines on my skin.The door on the opposite wall slid open with a soft click. A man walked in, wearing a gray NCEA uniform, no insignias.

POV: LenaI was pretending to be asleep.The doctors were murmuring about crystallization percentages and unrealistic deadlines. Words like "emergency extraction" and "terminal procedure" floated in the sterilized air. I kept my eyes shut, but each syllable carved a deeper hole in my chest.When they discharged me, my first destination wasn’t my room. I went straight to the Recovery Archive, the storage room where they kept the belongings of the base’s "guests."The soldier at the door hesitated. "Level 9 clearance or higher to—"I shoved my badge into his face."You really want to wake him up to confirm?""I’m sorry, ma’am, but you were demoted, so—""I’m carrying Kovac’s heir. You still dare question me? I’ll ask one more time. Do you want me to bring him here, soldier?"He seemed to swallow hard before deciding he didn’t want to see his own head roll, so he let me in. Smart kid.Three minutes later, I was holding Danny’s personal inventory:Item 047-B: 1 metal locket (photo of fema

POV: DannyOf course they wouldn't let me get away with what I'd done. Peace was definitely not an option.The harsh light of the spotlight woke me up even before the metal door creaked. There was no real sleep in this place, just brief fainting spells between pain sessions.My body was a map of bruises, cuts and electrical burns that no longer hurt like they used to. The Helium-3 was changing me, healing wounds that should have taken weeks in a matter of hours.Three figures entered the new cell, a damp concrete cubicle where even the chain holding me to the floor was rusting. In the center, like an ice queen in her rotten kingdom, was Odete Voss. Her impeccable gray dress contrasted grotesquely with the dried blood on the floor."Good morning, Daniel." His sharp-heeled shoes clicked against the concrete. "Or should that be good night? I've lost count of how many rounds of interrogation we've done."I ignored her, focusing on the two guards behind her. One carried the electric baton

POV: LenaThe music.It came and went like waves on a beach. It was as if I were outside myself, connected to the cosmos, the Earth, and my own soul all at once, yet unable to anchor to any single point.And then...My knees hit the cold metal of the hallway floor as another contraction bent me in half. The scream that tore from my throat echoed against the empty walls, mingling with the distant sounds of alarms and explosions.“Fuck... fuck... fuck!”My nails scraped the floor as I tried to drag myself forward. The scent of my own blood, mixed with the bluish amniotic fluid gushing between my legs, filled my nostrils. Every movement was a stab to my womb, but I had to reach them.Danny. Sofia. The traitors.The image of the Helium-3 launcher slipping from my hands still burned in my mind. I had them. I HAD THEM! And that bastard Danny with his sad, abandoned-dog eyes...How had that bitch infiltrated the complex? How had she gotten in so cleanly? Our security system had never failed.

POV: KovacThe bluish light of the preservation chamber hit me like a blow when the doors slid open for me.I didn’t hear Minerva’s welcome signals. Only silence.I had to steady a tremor in my hands as I crossed the threshold, each step echoing on the metallic floor like a hammer striking my coffin.The air was cold, cold as the space between stars. Cold as Piotr’s body when all the tests failed; when I saw that despite the blood in his eyes, he was irredeemably human. And weak.Lena was there.Dead. Lying on the surgical steel table, her hands crossed over her chest like in prayer.Someone had prepared her: combed her hair, closed her eyes, dressed her in a white linen gown that seemed to absorb the chamber’s bluish light. Her skin, despite the makeup, still showed signs of damage: bluish, thick veins that would’ve turned her into crystal if she’d survived a little longer.She looked asleep. Slowly, I touched her petrified face. There was no softness left in her cheek. No vitality l