The dorm halls were silent. The fire had been contained, but the air still smelled of
smoke.
Ayla slipped into her room, closing the door without a sound. Her hands trembled as she
placed the flash drive on the desk.
Her phone buzzed. Unknown number.
She hesitated before answering. "Hello?"
Static filled the line, then a woman's voice, low and smooth. "You should've let him
burn."
Ayla's blood turned cold. "Who is this?"The caller laughed softly. "You'll find me soon enough."
The line went dead.
Ayla stared at the screen, her pulse hammering. The voice wasn't Lara's. It was older.
Calm. Too calm.
She grabbed her jacket, shoved the flash drive into her pocket, and headed out.
The campus was deserted. Only the faint glow of emergency lights painted the
walkways.
She moved quickly toward the old library building. Room 403 was at the top. No one
used it anymore.
Every step echoed. Her shoes scraped against the floor. The deeper she went, the
colder the air grew.
By the time she reached the fourth floor, her hands were shaking.
The door to Room 403 was locked, but the handle rattled as if something was moving
inside.
"Elian said this is where it starts," she whispered.
She pushed harder. The door creaked open.
Dust floated in the air. The room was filled with old filing cabinets, computer parts, and
boxes stacked to the ceiling.
She pulled out her phone flashlight. The beam caught on something—writing on the
wall.
PROJECT NOVA.
Her stomach twisted.
She turned toward a computer at the back of the room, surprisingly clean, as if someone
had been using it recently.She sat down, plugged in the flash drive, and waited.
The screen flickered to life. A folder appeared: NOVA TEST SUBJECTS.
Her breath hitched. She clicked it open.
Rows of names appeared. Each had a code beside it. She scrolled. Her hand froze when
she saw one.
Subject 017: Ayla Monroe.
Her eyes blurred. "No…"
She opened the file. It contained medical records, photos, and notes from a lab. Words
jumped off the screen: Memory reconstruction. Genetic stabilization. Behavioral
response testing.
Every line felt like a wound.
She wasn't a victim of the fire. She was part of it.
She leaned back, shaking. "What did they do to me?"
A faint beep cut through the silence.
The computer camera light had turned on.
Someone was watching.
Her phone buzzed again. Another message from the same unknown number.
Put the drive back where you found it, or you won't see him again.
Her throat went dry. "Elian."
Her mind raced. They had him. Whoever "they" were.
She typed quickly, tracing the data logs on the screen. A live connection blinked back—
someone was remotely accessing the same files.
She followed the trail, eyes narrowing as it led to a familiar address.Faculty building. Office of Headmistress Vale.
Her chest tightened. The headmistress.
She yanked the flash drive free and bolted out of the room.
The stairwell was dark. Her phone buzzed again.
Another text.
Don't make this harder than it already is.
She ignored it and ran faster.
When she reached the courtyard, the police cars were gone. The night was silent again.
Too silent.
A shadow moved near the statue in the center.
"Who's there?" she called.
No answer.
Then her phone rang again. Same number. She picked up, heart pounding.
"Where is he?" she demanded.
The voice on the other end smiled through the static. "You'll get your answer at
midnight. Come alone. Bring the drive."
"Where?"
A pause. "The clock tower."
The line went dead.
Ayla stood there, the phone still pressed to her ear, the sound of her own breathing the
only thing left in the night.
Midnight was two hours away.And she was done running.