The Tavara International Medical Institute stood like a polished blade — sharp, gleaming, and cold. Every inch of the marble-finished floors echoed with clinical precision. Cameras blinked from the corners, silently watching. Always watching.
Dr. Nora Wren moved through the corridor in her custom white coat, embroidered with gold thread: Director, Advanced Trauma & Gene Studies Division. On paper, she was the crown jewel of Tavara's medical advancement — a global humanitarian, decorated with over twenty international awards.
But Nora wasn't just healing wounds. She was hiding truths.
Her heels clicked down the hallway as she passed her team, offering polite nods. Behind her smile, calculations ran. Surveillance patterns. Building schematics. Scheduled rotations of Helix Order's internal agents — masquerading as security, board members, and even patients.
Room 47B. Unauthorized entry last night. Her lab. Again.
She slid her keycard and stepped inside.
Everything looked untouched — until she noticed the files she had hidden in the lower cabinet were slightly off. Project Epoch. Genetic data spliced with military-grade regenerative serum. A prototype she buried six months ago, ordered to destroy but too valuable to burn.
Only a handful of people knew it existed. One of them was supposed to be dead. Or deployed.
Damien.
Her fingers lingered on the file, her pulse quickening. Could he be back?
As if summoned by her thoughts, her private phone buzzed. Unknown number.
She hesitated. Then answered.
"Doctor Wren?" The voice was deep. Familiar. Calculated.
She froze.
"…Damien?"
A pause. "Meet me at midnight. The old train yard. Come alone."
The line went dead.
Nora stared at the dark screen, breath shallow. If Damien was here, then it meant one of two things.
Either The Helix Order had found out her secret…
Or he had.
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