Aurora’s POVThe sun was high in the sky when I finally stepped outside the estate’s walls. It had been days since I had dared to leave the safety of Damien’s stronghold, but today was different. Today, the world felt new.The wind carried the scent of fresh earth, the trees whispering softly in the breeze. For the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn’t looking over my shoulder, waiting for danger to strike.No more Adrian. No more running. No more fear.Yet, as I stood at the edge of the estate, gazing at the road stretching into the horizon, I felt a strange hollowness inside me.What now?Behind me, I heard the
Aurora’s POVPeace felt unnatural.The past weeks had been a blur of blood, fire, and whispered threats in the dead of night. But now, the echoes of war had faded, leaving an eerie silence in their place.I walked through the estate grounds, my hands brushing over the roses that lined the stone pathway. Their petals were soft, fragile. So unlike the life I had known.I should have felt relief. The battle was over. Adrian was dead.And yet, the quiet unsettled me.I turned a corner and found Damien standing near the edge of the garden, gazing toward the horizon. His suit jacket was slung over his arm, his sleeves rolled up, revealing the si
Aurora’s POVI never thought a single word could carry so much weight.Yes.I had said it without hesitation, yet in the hours that followed, the reality of it settled over me like a heavy storm cloud.Marrying Damien meant choosing him—not just now, but always. It meant stepping into a future that had once terrified me.And yet, I had never felt more certain.The sky outside was dark when I finally slipped away from the warmth of my bed. The estate was quiet, a rare thing, and the moonlight streamed in through the windows as I wandered down the dimly lit corridors.The weight of everything
Aurora’s POVFor the first time in years, I had nowhere to run.The estate had changed in the past few days—no longer a fortress preparing for war, but something softer. Warmer. Yet even as the walls shifted, the weight of everything that had happened still pressed against me.Damien gave me space, never pushing, but I felt the tension in him. He was waiting.Waiting for me to decide.Waiting for me to choose him the way he had already chosen me.And I wanted to. I did.But something inside me was still afraid.I stood on the balcony, staring out at
Aurora’s POVThe estate felt different.Not because the danger had passed, not because Adrian was gone, but because something inside me had shifted.I wasn’t afraid anymore.I wasn’t running.But that didn’t mean I knew how to be still.Damien had given me space, but I could feel his presence everywhere. His silent strength, his unwavering patience. It made my chest ache in ways I didn’t fully understand.I had spent so long preparing to fight, to survive.I didn’t know how to just be.
Aurora’s POVThe silence stretched between us long after Eve Blackwood had left.Damien stood still, his gaze fixed on the spot where his mother had disappeared. His jaw was tense, his hands curled into tight fists.I had never seen him like this before—not during the battles, not even in the face of death.This was something deeper.I stepped closer, my voice soft. “Damien.”He didn’t react.I hesitated for only a moment before reaching for his hand. His fingers were ice cold, but when I laced mine with his, he squeezed back—like he needed the anchor.
Aurora’s POVThe room was eerily silent except for Damien’s steady breathing.He had been unconscious for hours, his body still weak from the wound his mother had inflicted.I hadn’t left his side.I couldn’t.Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the blood.Saw him falling.Saw his mother’s cold, calculating expression as she twisted the blade into him.I clenched my jaw, my fingers tightening around his.I won’t let her win.
Aurora’s POVThe world was quiet after the storm.Too quiet.Eve was dead. The threat that had loomed over us for so long was gone.But peace didn’t come as easily as I thought it would.I sat in our bedroom, staring at my reflection in the mirror.The bruises around my throat were already beginning to fade, but I could still feel her hands there.Still hear her voice."You don’t have the killer in you, do you?"I shuddered.She was wrong.I had felt the rage. The hunger for vengeance. The need to put an end to everything she had done to Damien.And if he hadn’t arrived when he did…I didn’t know if I would have hesitated.The thought terrified me.Who was I becoming?The door creaked open behind me, and I looked up.Damien stood there, his gaze unreadable.For the first time since Eve’s death, I saw something in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before.Doubt.Not in me.In himself.I turned in my chair. “You haven’t said much since last night.”He exhaled, running a hand through his hair.
Silence pressed against their ears as they approached the lowest chamber. The air was heavier here—thick with ozone and dread, as if the facility itself exhaled the weight of its own malice. Damien’s flashlight beam danced across the walls, revealing veins of circuitry pulsing beneath steel plates. Each step echoed like a verdict.Aurora’s grip on her rifle tightened. “This corridor leads straight to the core. Seraph must be close.”Asher flanked Damien’s other side, unblinking in the dim light. Though forged in Monroe’s broken crucible, the boy’s courage was pure—a reminder that hope could grow from ashes.Null’s voice crackled in their earpieces. “I’m seeing systems coming back online. Ten minutes before full lockdown. We need to move.”Elias checked his watch. “Understood.”They rounded the final corner and stopped.A vaulted chamber yawned before them. In its center, illuminated by a ring of harsh white light, stood Seraph. Taller than a child but smaller than an adult, she was fr
The silence grew heavier the deeper they went.Null’s map guided them through a maze of subterranean halls—some cold and sterile, others torn by time and disuse. The smooth hum of generators still echoed in places, interspersed by flickering emergency lights that bathed the world in sickly red pulses.Damien led the way with Aurora and Asher close at his heels. The boy in the containment pod had given them everything—coordinates, access routes, and warnings. Seraph wasn’t like Daemon or Omega.He was worse.“Bio-signature locked,” Null murmured, eyes on the scanner as they reached another sealed door. “There’s something down there. No readable vitals, but movement… constant. Pacing, almost.”“He’s waiting,” Aurora said.Asher’s small voice cut in, soft but certain. “He doesn’t think. He reacts. He was made to become… everything they wanted me to be.”Damien knelt beside him. “You don’t have to face this.”Asher looked up. “I do. If we don’t stop him, he’ll come for us. For others.”Au
The elevator doors closed with a reluctant groan, sealing them in.Inside the narrow shaft, the only light came from their tactical gear—soft glows against skin and metal. Aurora stood beside Damien, her hand brushing against his, an anchor in the silence. Asher stood between them, staring straight ahead, lips pressed into a thin, focused line.The descent felt longer than it should have. As if the very walls were stretching around them—preparing to swallow them whole.Then the lift jolted to a stop.A hiss of depressurization followed. The doors slid open with a groan, revealing a corridor bathed in cold white light. Clean. Too clean. The sterile scent of disinfectant and ozone clung to the air like a ghost.“This is it,” Null said quietly. “The Core Lab.”They stepped out as one.Unlike the upper floors, this level was pristine. Not abandoned. Not even neglected. Lights functioned. Doors responded to biometric scans. Cameras followed their every move, some still tracking with soft c
The sun dipped low, setting fire to the horizon in hues of crimson and ash. From the ridge above the temporary camp, Damien stood alone, watching shadows stretch over the forest like fingers reaching for something they could never quite hold.Below him, the others prepared in near silence. The kind of silence that didn’t come from fear—but from knowing. From understanding just how close they were to the end.The wind curled around him, carrying the scent of pine and steel and something colder. A storm was coming. Not of weather—but of reckoning.“You always find the highest place when you need to think.”He didn’t turn. He didn’t need to.Aurora’s voice always settled beneath his skin like a familiar hum—gentle and steady.She stepped up beside him, hands tucked into the sleeves of her jacket, her gaze following his to the horizon.“You used to be quieter,” he said. “Before all this.”“I used to have more to be afraid of,” she replied, half-smiling. “Now I just have more to lose.”He
The boy didn’t speak of the dream again.But something in him shifted after that night. His steps were a little steadier. His gaze no longer darted to the exits first. He stayed near Damien, yes, but not like a shadow clinging to light. Now, it felt like a tether, an anchor—not dependence, but choice.Damien noticed it when they trained in the clearing behind the safehouse. The boy followed directions without flinching, without looking over his shoulder every five seconds like he expected Monroe to appear from behind the trees. And when Kai handed him a blade—not sharp, just a practice knife—he held it with the curiosity of someone discovering a piece of themselves.“What do we call him?” Eli
The morning sunlight felt wrong.Too bright. Too open.After days in the Hollow’s synthetic twilight, Damien squinted at the skyline like it was some forgotten relic. The world outside was still broken, scarred by everything Monroe had built, but out here—beneath real sky—it felt like breathing for the first time in weeks.They moved through the forest trail in silence, Aurora walking beside Damien, the child—now clothed in a borrowed jacket and boots too large—staying close to Damien’s side like a shadow tethered to light.No name.No past.
The air inside the chamber thickened as the hum of the cryopod deepened, soft lights tracing across its surface like veins awakening after a long slumber. Damien stood with his hand hovering just above the control panel, eyes locked on the boy within. A-00.The child who shouldn’t exist.The child who had been discarded—forgotten—yet had outlived the project meant to replace him.Aurora touched Damien’s arm gently. “Are you ready?”He didn’t answer right away. His gaze was still fixed on the boy’s face. So young, so still. Yet somehow, it felt like staring into a mirror that refused to reflect.
The helicopter blades sliced through the Ural sky like a warning.Beneath them, the forest spread like a sea of frozen pine and fractured stone, untouched and unwelcoming. The coordinates Null had provided pointed to a narrow canyon—its jagged sides veined with ice and shadow—where no human path should've ever led.Damien sat beside Aurora, eyes locked on the narrowing terrain below. The cold had begun to seep in through the insulated layers, but it wasn’t the temperature that clenched his gut.It was the silence.Even at this altitude, the absence of wildlife was unnerving.As if nature itself refused to brea
The wind had changed by morning.Geneva’s neutral calm felt different now—like something sacred had been disturbed beneath its manicured stillness. The team gathered in the briefing room of the underground complex, still shaken from what they’d uncovered the night before: Damien’s prototype—Subject A-01-D—and the fractured remnants of Monroe’s last vault of secrets.No one spoke for a long while.Elias was the first to break the silence. “So what now? We’ve seen the start of it. That clone—your prototype—it changes everything. Doesn’t it?”Null nodded slowly, pacing. “It suggests Monroe’s e