"Shut the hell up!" Phyna’s roar cut through the cold air of the interrogation room like a whip, instantly snapping the last thread of Nancy’s composure. Phyna stepped into the harsh circle of light, her eyes burning with pure, unadulterated venom. She leaned forward, placing both of her gloved hands on the metal table, getting so close that Nancy could smell the gunpowder and rain lingering on her uniform. "Look at me, girl!" Phyna demanded, her voice dropping into a harsh, raspy whisper. "This is the absolute truth, whether your little teenage brain wants to accept it or not! Your mother is not who she says she is! She is a dangerous, cold-blooded criminal! A monster who has killed dozens of people, erased entire lives, and left a trail of bodies across this country!" Nancy shrank back into the hard metal chair, her chin trembling as tears pooled in her eyes. "N-No... she's my mom..." "She is a killer!" Phyna barked, slamming her fist onto the table. The sharp BANG echoed off

The heavy silence inside the concrete room hung like thick smoke. Nancy stared up at the woman in uniform, her lower lip trembling as the words slowly sank into her mind, heavy and real. "So..." Nancy asked slowly, her small voice cracking under the weight of the realization, "my mom... she really is a criminal?" "The best of the best," Phyna answered, her voice dropping into a low, sharp tone that cut straight to the bone. "A ghost. A nightmare. But you..." Phyna stepped closer, her shadowy figure blocking out the harsh red emergency light, "...you are going to help me take her down." Before Nancy could digest the horrifying thought, the heavy steel door of the interrogation room burst open with a loud, echoey clang! Phyna spun around on her heel, her dark eyes flashing with immediate anger. "What the hell is your problem?!" Phyna retorted, her voice echoing off the concrete walls. "Can't you see I am busy in here?!" The young tactical officer standing at the door looked terrifie

"I am deeply sorry, sir," Phyna said simply, her tone completely flat, masking every single emotion trying to claw its way out of her throat. "I had no idea the operation would cause such a high-level disturbance.""YOU HAD NO IDEA?!" the Director bellowed, his voice cracking with disbelief. "You're a Commander! It is your job to know! It looks to me like you are very eager to lose your badge, your rank, and your freedom! Where is the girl, Phyna?!"The Director stepped even closer, his shadow falling over her desk."Take me to where she is right now!" he demanded, his voice dropping into a strict, terrifying threat. "I want to see her with my own eyes unless all hell breaks loose!"Phyna’s mind raced as the Director’s heavy breathing filled the oppressive air of her office. The red emergency lights cast long, bloody shadows across the walls.If she gave in right now, if she opened that hidden holding cell, marched Nancy out, and placed her in the Director's corrupt hands, she knew ex

Dorian boosted Nancy upward, helping her small, bruised frame slip into the narrow metal opening of the air duct. He hoisted his own heavy body up right behind her, carefully pulling the metal grate back into position to cover their tracks. The vent was cramped, smelling of dust, cold metal, and stale air. Nancy crawled on her knees ahead of him, but her movements were sluggish and heavy. She looked deathly pale. It wasn't just the sheer physical exhaustion from the meat locker, the rain, or the terror of Gerald Colton’s syringe; it was the crushing weight of the words Phyna had just poured into her soul. All her life, Nancy had known her mother as a quiet, ordinary woman. A plain, gentle banker who spent long, exhausting hours at a desk, barely earning enough money to keep their small family afloat. Clara was the woman who packed her school lunch, who worried over her grades, who cried over sad television shows. How could she be a criminal? Nancy thought, her mind spinning in

Dorian and Nancy moved silently through the cramped ventilation shaft, the cold metal scraping against their knees with every slow step. Below, wailing emergency sirens bounced off the concrete walls, drowning out the soft rustle of their movements. Finally, they reached an open metal grate overlooking a narrow, dimly lit rear staircase. Dorian peered through the slats, sweeping his eyes across the empty steps below before using his tactical knife to pop the latch. He swung the grate open, turned his body around, and effortlessly lowered his large frame through the opening. He dropped silently onto the concrete landing, landing in a low, stable crouch. He looked up at the ceiling vent and extended his broad arms toward the opening. "Come on, Nancy," Dorian whispered, keeping his voice low and steady. "Jump. I’ve got you." Nancy looked down at the drop, hesitation flickering in her eyes for a split second. But looking at the massive, calm man standing below, she drew a sharp b