Before the darkness of the clinic room fully swallowed him, something in Alex’s mind cracked open, and the world shifted. Suddenly he wasn’t lying on a cart with nurses shouting over him. He was nineteen. He was sitting cross-legged on the cold floor of his college dorm room, surrounded by half-empty energy drinks, toppled notebooks, and glowing screens.Outside the window, traffic hummed in a steady rhythm. The campus lights flickered like distant stars. And there he was, young Alex Vale, thin and restless, tapping furiously on his keyboard as if he could outrun sleep itself.Older Alex watched the memory unfold from somewhere just behind his younger self, like a ghost tethered to a past he never truly left.“Dude, you’re gonna fry your brain.”Jonah Reyes’s voice drifted in from the doorway. He stood with a hoodie half-zipped, a bag of chips tucked under his arm, and the familiar mix of irritation and concern written across his face. Young Alex didn’t look up. “My brain’s fine.” Yo

The afternoon sunlight slanted through the rehab common room, turning the dust in the air into floating gold specks. The place always smelled faintly of old books and lemon cleaner. A few patients sat scattered around the room, some reading, some staring at nothing, some lost in their own storms.Alex sat on the couch near the window, a worn paperback open on his lap. He had been staring at the same paragraph for five minutes. The words drifted in and out, refusing to stay still. His mind kept wandering back to the conversation with Caleb that morning, the honesty of it, the fragile hope he had felt afterward. He shouldn’t feel hopeful. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Still, the feeling had been real. He rubbed his tired eyes and closed the book. Outside, a few leaves scraped along the pavement. The wind was picking up. Winter was creeping closer.“Still pretending you’re reading those?” a voice said behind him.Alex turned.A man leaned against the doorway, half-smiling. Late thirties, shar

Alex barely slept. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the blueprint on his screen, the interface he once built, twisted into something colder. More dangerous. Voices from his past echoed in his mind. Investors. Engineers. Board meetings. Jonah. The sound of servers. The way Erevos used to whisper results in patterns he swore he didn’t design.He kept hearing Kenton’s voice.Last chance.By the time the sun rose, he felt like an exposed nerve.He sat up in bed, rubbing his face. His hands shook again. He was back in a world he didn’t want, a world he had escaped, only to find out it had followed him. The message. The warning. We’re watching.He grabbed his phone and shoved it into his pocket like it might explode. No one in rehab would believe him. And even if they did, they were vulnerable. Ordinary people. People trying to recover. He couldn’t drag them into this. But he needed help. He needed Clara.Patients shuffled toward breakfast. Conversations mixed into a low sound. Alex wa

The morning light spilled through the rehab center’s windows in soft strips, falling across the hallway floor like pale gold. The center always felt quiet at this hour, but today there was a kind of gentle buzz under the silence. Alex noticed it as soon as he stepped into the common room. People talked in low voices over coffee. Chairs scraped against the floor. Someone laughed from the other end of the room, a rare, honest sound.He carried a mop and bucket, the handle knocking lightly against his leg as he walked. His hands were still raw from yesterday’s cleaning shift, but he didn’t mind. The work helped him breathe. It slowed his thoughts. Gave him something to hold onto when everything else felt loose and unreliable. He leaned the mop against the wall and went to rinse the bucket. The water from the tap came out in a fast, noisy stream, splashing against the old metal. Steam rose into his face and warmed his cheeks. It smelled of iron and soap.“You always come early.”Alex turn

The night came suddenly. One moment, the sky was dull and gray, and the courtyard held the quiet hum of a late-evening wind. The next, it roared with flames licking the edges of the rehab center. Smoke clawed at Alex’s throat before he could even react. Shadows of fire danced across the walls, throwing long, wild shapes over the tile floors and brick corridors. He smelled it first, smoke, thick and bitter. Then the crackling. Then panic. Clara’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding, over the chaos: “Alex! Get out! Now!”He ran toward the main entrance, the soles of his shoes screeching against the wet tile. Water from the sprinklers hissed as it met the fire, steam rising like ghosts. Patients screamed. Staff shouted instructions he barely heard over the roar.Alex’s lungs burned. He could taste the smoke, metallic and dry. His chest tightened. Panic clawed up from somewhere deep inside, wrapping him in fear. He saw Clara ahead, her coat singed at the edges, hair plastered to her face