The interrogation room was colder than Ayla remembered. A recycled chill whispered from the vents, carrying the sterile tang of metal and bleach. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting Raymond in sharp relief where he sat shackled to the table.He leaned back in his chair like a man visiting an old café, perfectly at ease, his chains an accessory rather than a restraint. Ayla stood on the other side of the glass, arms crossed, her reflection a faint double.Her heart hadn’t stopped thudding since the last name Raymond had given her the judge who supposedly ruled half the city from his chambers. That revelation had already ignited political firestorms in the media. Yet Raymond hadn’t even flinched.Now he claimed to have something bigger. “The root,” he had called it.“You’re pale,” murmured Agent Donovan beside her, voice low, paternal. “You don’t have to go in again. He’s winding you up”“I have to,” Ayla said. Her voice surprised even her, Steadier than she felt. “If he’s right

The sirens were still wailing when Ayla shoved through the double doors of the precinct’s underground garage. Fluorescent lights flickered above, bathing everything in a sickly yellow. The smell of gasoline, burnt rubber, and gun oil pressed into her lungs.Her hands trembled, slick with sweat, as she clutched the flash drive Raymond had slipped her. She hadn’t told anyone about it, not Davis, not Command no one.The flash drive was burning a hole in her palm, a digital Pandora’s box, and every instinct screamed that opening it might shatter what little control she had left.“Trent!” Davis’s voice cracked the air like a gunshot. He barreled down the ramp toward her, his suit jacket hanging open, tie loose, eyes bloodshot from a night without sleep. He looked like hell, He also looked like he wanted to tear her apart.“What the hell happened in there?” he demanded, stepping close enough that his breath hit her face. “A black-ops raid goes sideways, half the team’s dead, and you’re walk

The floodlights scorched the construction site into a false daylight, every beam sharp and unforgiving. Dust swirled under the heavy glare, settling on Ayla’s skin like a second layer of ash.The soldiers moved with clockwork precision, their rifles leveled, lasers stitching her body with unblinking red points. There was no shouting, no threats. Just silence. The kind of silence that came before a mass grave.Raymond stood beside her, unflinching, gun loose at his side, his gaze fixed on the figure approaching through the floodlight haze. Davis, His immaculate suit seemed obscene amid the rebar, mud, and half-built concrete walls.Every step he took was measured, deliberate, the heels of his shoes crunching softly on gravel. His face was calm, almost kind, the faint smile of a man who owned everything in sight including the lives before him.“Special Agent Trent,” Davis said, his voice carrying with unnerving clarity. “I expected more from you.”Ayla forced herself to stand taller, th

The first soldier lunged, metal joints hissing. Raymond met him mid-stride, pivoting low, driving two shots into the chest. Sparks spat from the impact, but the augmented soldier didn’t fall. It stumbled, recalibrated, then swung an arm like a hammer.Raymond ducked, shoved Ayla aside, and the blow slammed into the steel wall, denting it like soft tin. Ayla’s mind screamed to freeze, but her body betrayed instinct. She raised the Glock Raymond had forced into her hand, sighted, and fired.The recoil jolted her arms, but the bullet tore through one soldier’s faceplate. Wires sizzled, fluids sprayed. The thing staggered, twitching. They weren’t men, not anymore.“Headshots!” Raymond barked, firing again. “Or joints!”The chamber erupted in chaos. Ten soldiers surged forward in perfect synchronization, their movements too clean, too precise. Their glowing eyes cut through the fluorescent light, reflecting cold intelligence or the absence of it.Raymond dropped one with a round through t

The creature stood in the ruin of its prison, breathing light. It wasn’t just sight it was weight. The thing’s presence pressed into Ayla’s chest like gravity turned personal. The chamber bent around it, walls warping inward as if reality itself tried to shrink from its existence.She staggered back, but her boots stuck to the ground, fused with melted glass. Her lungs dragged smoke that burned all the way down. She raised the Glock with trembling hands, but she already knew it was useless.The pistol might as well have been a toy against whatever had just stepped free, Raymond didn’t move. He stood, battered, bleeding, every rib screaming, but he did not move. His eyes locked on the thing like he had seen it before or like some part of him had been waiting for it.The entity tilted its head, Its face was not flesh, not steel. It was a pattern, shifting fractals of bone and circuitry, rearranging each time she blinked. A grin unfolded, rows of teeth like glass knives, gleaming with re