Ethan jumped.For one suspended instant, the convoy passed beneath him in a wash of headlights and black metal. Then his boots struck the roof of the rear command vehicle.The impact buckled the panel beneath his feet.The vehicle swerved violently. Ethan went down with it, sliding toward the rear edge as the road tilted beneath him. His injured ribs caught the raised lip of a maintenance hatch. Pain flashed white through his side, but his hand found the roof rail before the wheels could take him.Below, soldiers spilled onto the road and fired toward the overpass.The muzzle flashes strobed across the concrete.They were looking in the wrong direction.Ethan hauled himself onto the roof and crawled toward the hatch while the driver fought to keep the vehicle moving. The convoy had begun to break apart. The lead carrier disappeared into the eastern dark. The middle vehicle swung toward the coastal road.Ethan had one chance to keep the command unit from escaping.He drove the butt of

The scar around Ethan’s palm itched like a live wire.He sat in the dim command center, the damaged console flickering in front of him. The screen displayed a single line of text that shouldn’t exist:**PRIMARY AUTHORITY: GRAVES, ETHAN. STATUS: ACTIVE.**Elena stood behind him, her face pale in the blue glow. “That’s not possible. Your biometrics were flagged as terminated five years ago.”“They lied about the termination,” Ethan said. His voice was flat, but his hand trembled slightly as he reached toward the keyboard. “They kept the channel open.”Luca hovered near the door, clutching the data drive they’d recovered from the convoy. “If the system still recognizes you, then the lockdown order—”“Was authenticated through me,” Ethan finished. “Not just my voice. My body.”Cross stood in the corner, arms folded, watching the screen with a soldier’s stillness. He hadn’t said much since they’d reached the facility. He’d been alive longer than anyone here knew what to do with.The console

The train rattled through the outskirts of the city, its wheels screaming against rusted tracks. Dawn had broken, but the sky was gray, heavy with the promise of rain.Ethan sat on a bench near the rear of the car, his back against the cold metal wall. His right hand rested on his knee, palm up. The scar was no longer bleeding, but the skin around it was angry—red, swollen, pulsing faintly in time with the train’s rhythm.Elena sat across from him, the tablet in her lap. Cross stood by the door, rifle across his chest, watching the tunnel behind them. Luca huddled in the corner, eyes closed, trying to sleep.None of them would.Elena broke the silence. “The recruitment file has gaps. Sections that are corrupted. Or deliberately erased.”Ethan didn’t look up. “What kind of gaps?”“Time stamps. There’s a seventy-three-minute window on the day you signed the agreement. The file shows you entering the facility at 1400 hours. It shows you leaving at 1513. But everything between 1427 and 150

The maintenance tunnel opened into a freight yard, vast and shadowed, stacked with rusted containers and abandoned machinery. Rain fell from holes in the ceiling, pooling on the cracked concrete. The air smelled like oil and wet metal.Ethan crouched behind a forklift, breathing steady, rifle across his lap. The scar on his palm had stopped bleeding, but the pain hadn’t. It pulsed in time with the rain, like a second heartbeat.Elena was beside him, tablet dark, eyes scanning the yard. Cross was on the left flank, behind a stack of pallets. Luca huddled in the center, between them, clutching the data drive.“Movement,” Cross whispered. “Twelve o’clock. Three hostiles.”Ethan raised his rifle. “I see them.”The hostiles advanced in perfect formation, weapons low, movements synchronized. They didn’t use cover. They didn’t call out positions. They just moved.Like they knew where he was.Ethan fired.The first hostile dropped. The other two returned fire instantly, their shots accurate,

The underpass was dry, at least. Water dripped from the edges of the concrete overhang, but the space beneath was sheltered. Ethan sat on a low wall, his back against the tiles, staring at his right hand. The scar had stopped burning, but the coldness remained—like the skin had been replaced with something that didn't belong to him.Elena paced in front of him, tablet in hand. Cross stood near the entrance, watching the street. Luca sat in the corner, knees to his chest, eyes closed.No one spoke for a long minute.Then Elena stopped. Turned."You don't think he's lying."It wasn't a question.Ethan looked up. "I think he's lying about why it happened. But I don't think he's lying about what I tried to do."Cross's voice came from the entrance. "What does that mean?""It means I remember arguing," Ethan said. "Not clearly. But I remember. The extraction list. The names. There were people who weren't on it. People who should have been."Elena's jaw tightened. "So you tried to change it