The hum of the server room faded into a dull, throbbing roar in Alexander’s ears. He stood frozen, his gaze locked on Samuel’s face—the face of his protector, his most trusted guardian, now branded on the screen as the ultimate traitor. The “Sleeper.” The foundation of his entire new reality crumbled into dust, leaving him standing on a precipice of pure, icy betrayal.“Sir?” Anya’s voice was a distant buzz. “Should I… should I lock this down? Alert security?”“No.” The word came out strangled. Alexander forced a breath, his mind, trained for crisis, clawing its way back from the emotional abyss. Panic was a luxury he couldn’t afford. This was no longer a personal wound; it was a tactical catastrophe of the highest order. “No one knows about this. No one. Wipe your logs. Isolate this terminal. This conversation never happened.”Anya’s eyes widened, but she gave a sharp, professional nod. “Yes, sir.” Her fingers began flying across the keyboard, executing his commands with lethal effic

The name "Dr. Ishmael Patel" was a burning coal in Alexander's mind. He burst out of the library's hushed silence into the chaotic energy of the city, the scrap of paper with Sasha's handwriting clutched in his fist. A mysterious artist who knew about resonant frequencies and construction forums. It was too convenient. Too perfect. Was she a gift or a weapon?He had no time to find out. The sun was beginning to set. He had less than ten hours.He called Vincent from the burner phone, his voice a low, urgent command. "Vincent, I need you to find a Professor Ishmael Patel at Columbia. Acoustic engineering. Get me his home address, his schedule, his favorite brand of coffee. I need to see him tonight. Now.""Alexander? What is this about? The board is still—""This is about survival, Vincent! Just do it!" He hung up, the paranoia whispering that even Vincent's hesitation was suspect.While he waited, a different kind of dread surfaced. Sasha. He couldn't shake her. That direct, curious g

The silence in the server room was a physical weight. The green "all systems nominal" lights mocked him. He had won the battle but lost the war. Samuel had Sasha. The words echoed in his mind, a cold, brutal mantra. The real game begins.He stumbled out of the server room, back through the steam tunnel, and into the alley. The city was beginning to stir, the sky lightening to a grim gray. His phone buzzed—Joseph."Alex! The distraction worked, but security is going nuts. What happened? Is it over?""It's just starting," Alexander said, his voice hollow. "Samuel has Sasha.""Who? The artist girl? Man, what is going on?""He's using her as leverage. He said... he said this was a test. That I passed." The absurdity of it made him want to scream. All the pressure, the betrayal, the near-destruction of everything he'd built—it was all just a test."Okay, okay, don't panic," Joseph said, his own fear evident. "Where would he take her? We gotta call the cops.""No cops," Alexander snapped. "

“Come on,” he grunted, scrambling to his feet and pulling her up. They ran, not looking back, their footsteps echoing in the narrow alleyway. They didn’t stop until they were five blocks away, ducking into the recessed doorway of a closed butcher shop, the smell of old blood and bleach filling the air.They slumped against the metal grate, gasping for air. The adrenaline was receding, leaving Alexander trembling and sore. He looked over at Sasha. Her face was smudged with dirt and chemicals, her hair a wild mess. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.Suddenly, she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his. It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was desperate, full of fear, relief, and a raw, untamed gratitude. It was fire and life after the cold, clinical horror of the chemical plant.For a moment, Alexander was too stunned to react. Then, gently but firmly, he put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back, breaking the kiss.Sasha st

The black sedan’s silent departure was more unnerving than an attack. It was a message: We see you. We’re not worried. It left a cold void in the pit of Alexander’s stomach, but also a grim satisfaction. He had forced a reaction. He was no longer just prey.Leo Finch was a shaken man. He clutched the thumb drive like a holy relic and a live grenade. “They’ll kill me for this,” he whispered, his eyes wide.“Only if you’re careless,” Alexander said, his voice low and intense. “That drive is your insurance. The moment they touch you, your editor has instructions to publish everything. They’re predators. They understand mutually assured destruction. Now, what do you have for me?”Finch took a deep breath, his reporter’s instincts battling his survival instinct. “Not much. My source went dark after the ‘Sleeper’ warning. But before that, they mentioned a name. Not the Consortium. A project name. ‘Prometheus.’ They said it was the reason for all the tests. The endgame.”Prometheus. The Tita