For the entire hour I replayed the scene.
How many seconds had I really had? How many options—how many probabilities—for not pulling that trigger, for getting him out alive?
Every path slammed into a wall. It changed nothing:
I killed Steven.
My brain kept saying he had no way to survive, that he wanted the bullet, that he knew it was over.
My heart bled anyway.
Knock-knock.
I sat up on the bunk. Patrick opened the door. His stubble looked longer, his hair damp with the communal shampoo. While I drowned in my friend's death, he'd enjoyed a shower.
"The doctor's waiting."
I rose—weak, but steady—and followed him. The walk down to the restricted floor felt like a private circle of hell. Face-scan, iris-scan, the corridor of lasers; guards stepped aside.
Inside the triangle lab the doctor, in a pristine white coat, was leafing through printouts.
"I've been waiting."
I stopped a meter away.
"Our research is complete," he said. "Everything's ready to test your idea."
He slipped off his glasses; I faced those elegant, hateful eyes and wondered if I could kill him right now—
Free Ashur... But not yet, Viuna...not now!
His cold voice echoed:
"Today you'll meet Ashur again. I'm curious whether our Piranha reacts to a pretty girl like you."
He folded his arms.
"Tell me—what exactly do you know about Rose and the Triangle? Do you know why we exist at all?"
Hands behind my back, I breathed deep.
"Rose was formed years ago to run terror, military and political ops for various states. Adult soldiers carried weaknesses—family, memory—so they turned children into weapons, raised to spec. But—"
He smirked, finishing for me:
"They discovered average kids slowed them down, so Project Rose began. High-IQ children stolen, bought, trafficked."
I belonged to that third category.
I wasn't kidnapped; I was sold.
With a gesture he brought up a projector. Grainy images filled a wall: a pit full of tiny bones.
Running a sleek hand through dark hair, he didn't look away.
"The rejects—the zero numbers—failed evaluations. They were taken to the Pit and killed in front of the others. Lesson delivered."
I stared at the small, fragile skeletons—my own employer was no better than this Union.
He went on, voice clinically calm:
"Among Rose's agents was a certain genius. He fell for a trainee girl. One day he found her in the Pit—she hadn't been 'smart enough.' He swore to bring Rose down."
The doctor's smile thinned.
"He smuggled the weak kids out, built his own army. That man is now the Apex of our triangle—the founder who hunts Rose's 'fish' while we, the fishers, reel them in."
He stepped closer.
"So your next question must be: Where does Ashur fit in?"
A very good question—one I needed answered more than anything.
I narrowed my eyes and stared at him. He stood right in front of me, holding my gaze.
"Like I said," he began, "kids who couldn't prove themselves were tossed into a pit. And in that pit ... there was a venomous snake that finished them off."
He paused, glossy eyes locked on mine.
"Years ago they threw a boy in—just because his I.Q. didn't clear the mark. A ten-year-old who looked useless, a Zero. The kid was small, scared, failed every test; they say he even cried before his last evaluation."
He paced a slow circle around me; each footfall broke the lab's hush. From behind my shoulder he murmured, silky and dark:
"But that day the boy didn't die."
He came back round, excitement shining on his face.
"Because that little boy ... killed the viper."
His laugh ricocheted through the room—like a pack of hungry wolves.
My brain stalled. "Ashur killed the viper?!"
He nodded, still grinning. "Oh yes. The boy was Ashur. Story goes he bit the snake's head clean off."
I stared, stunned. Even for me, this level was locked.
"How could an ordinary kid do that?"
Hands in his pockets, he gave a shrug. "The rest is classified. What I do know is that afterward he turned into something ... mechanical. They hauled him out, drew the venom from his blood. Then he disappeared for years. When he resurfaced, he'd carved that tattoo on himself—and everywhere he went they called him 'Viper.'"
I couldn't believe it.
The story I'd heard... it was about him.
The boy who survived the pit—only to end up becoming the villain.
I stood mute. He stepped closer and lowered his voice.
"There's the back-story you wanted."
A tilt of his chin toward the hall's far door, a sly smile.
"Funny—never thought a simple tattoo could carry so much history. So, do you think that little memory will help you? Think Piranha's going to speak after five silent years?"
The sarcasm dripped.
I blinked, shocked. All I had was one coded phrase—"Poisoned Serpent Venom." To use it I'd have to lay careful groundwork; if Ashur reacted the way Rose promised, the doctor must never suspect.
The Triangle still didn't know that the only key to Ashur is the trigger codes Rose built into him—though even I don't yet understand how.
The doctor locked eyes with me and nodded toward the steel door at the back of the hall.
"Time for you to go in—make Ashur talk."
I blinked, fists tightening.
Heart pounding, I watched the metal barrier slide aside.
This was it—time to hear the voice of the killer
Who's been silent for five long years.