The first thing Ethan noticed was the taste—metallic, bitter, like iron bleeding into his mouth. It clung thick and sour in the back of his throat, dragging his senses up from whatever abyss had swallowed him whole.His eyelids fought gravity as he blinked, slow and raw, to a blur of streetlamp halos melting into midnight haze. The scent of rain-damp concrete and burnt ozone cut sharply through the damp night air.He was lying on his side in an alleyway, the cold wet grime biting through his thin jacket. The world spun lazy circles, warping into grotesque shapes: a flicker of neon signage, a clattering rat darting across cracked pavement, and the distant rumble of traffic swallowing the city’s endless hum.A sudden jolt ran through his arm — sharp pain flaring where a tattoo burned raw against his skin. His fingers trembled as they traced the crude pattern etched along his forearm: a series of coordinates, ink smudged and partially faded, like a map meant to be forgotten. The numbers

Ethan sat against the cold concrete wall inside the Resistance safehouse, his body aching in every fiber. The haze of pain dulled his senses but sharpened his resolve. The fragments of memory teased at the edges of his mind like ghosts refusing to be silenced. Across the room, Ayla tapped furiously at her tablet, her sharp eyes scanning streams of data flowing like a digital river. Detective Reese lit another cigarette, the smoke curling upward, adding to the room’s thick atmosphere of tension and determination. Ethan finally broke the silence. “If I’m the ghost they fear, why me? Why didn’t they kill me back there?” Ayla glanced at him, eyes unreadable. “Because you’re not just any ghost. You’re the prototype—the original Lazarus. They want you alive, broken enough to control but strong enough to be weaponized.” Reese exhaled slowly. “Rayburn sees you as the key to everything he’s built. And Marcus? He’s the perfect assassin designed to hunt you down.” Ayla projected a holograph

The city never ceased its restless murmur—a fractured symphony of sirens, whispers, and distant protests. Ethan leaned against the cracked windowpane of the safehouse, the cool glass a stark contrast to the fire burning inside him. Every revelation only tightened the noose around his neck.Ayla sat nearby, her fingers dancing across her tablet, piecing together the encrypted files. Reese was on a call, gruff voice low but intense. Lila was reviewing maps, her eyes sharp and focused.Ayla broke the silence. “I’ve found something — a location tied to the woman in the video.”Ethan’s heart quickened. “Where?”“In the city’s oldest district—Harbor Row. It’s a dangerous place, but it’s our best lead.”Reese slammed the phone down. “We move at first light.”The sun had barely kissed the horizon as they entered Harbor Row—a maze of crumbling warehouses, tangled docks, and shadowed alleyways. The air smelled of salt and decay.Ethan’s senses were on high alert. Every step echoed his past’s fr

The boat rocked as it sliced through the inky waters of the Gulf. Night had draped itself over the sea like a funeral veil. Clouds smothered the stars, and only the low hum of the engine dared disturb the silence.Ethan stood at the helm, hands clenched on the steel rail, eyes fixed on the black outline of Apex Island—a fortress of glass, stone, and nightmares rising from the ocean like the crown of a fallen god.“Five clicks to shore,” Reese called, checking the sonar. “Minimal patrols on the west dock. Either they’re underestimating us, or they’re herding us.”Ethan didn’t look back. “Either way, we hit hard. We get in. We find Aiden. We burn the place to the ground.”Ayla emerged from the hold with a cold gleam in her eyes and a combat rig slung over her shoulder. “You realize this is suicide, right?”“It’s justice,” Ethan replied.Inside the cabin, Mara sat cross-legged on the floor, hacking into the island’s deflector signals using a transmitter she salvaged from the safehouse.A

The cold air inside the tunnel clawed at Ethan’s skin as he descended deeper beneath the city’s underbelly. The ground sloped in spirals, walls slick with damp condensation, torchlight flickering from old lanterns Mara had stashed on their previous runs. Behind him, Mara’s footsteps were sharp and urgent, their echo bouncing off the ancient stone.They were heading toward a long-abandoned surveillance bunker—the last known place Ethan’s former identity, before Rayburn’s erasure, had left a trace.And Mara believed what they were looking for wasn’t just a clue to his past—but the blueprint of Rayburn’s end.When they reached the terminal chamber, a decaying steel door greeted them—chained shut but cracked enough to reveal a blinking red light within. Mara knelt beside the keypad embedded into the wall, brushing away decades of grime.“Help me with this,” she said, pulling a compact pulse-breaker from her satchel.Ethan steadied her tools, his hands moving instinctively. His body rememb