Something was wrong with the night.
Evie felt it before she understood it—an instinct pulsing under her skin, tightening her breath, sharpening her senses. The sky wasn't just dark; it was empty, drained of warmth and sound until the stars looked like shards of broken glass suspended in a void.
For a moment, she wondered if the world had stopped.
Then her dashboard flickered:
SIGNAL INTERFERENCE — UNKNOWN SOURCE
Of course.
Tonight was already a disaster.
Evie tightened her grip on the wheel, knuckles whitening. The farther she got from the Helios research compound, the stronger the unease grew. Every passing streetlight felt like a spotlight. Every shadow looked like a threat stretching too far, too deliberate.
Helios didn't chase people.
Helios hunted them.
A low hum buzzed in her earpiece—the stolen encrypted communicator she'd yanked from a Helios lab minutes before alarms swallowed the building. It kept glitching with fragments of voices, tones, and static she didn't recognize.
Almost like something—or someone—was trying to reach her.
She pressed harder on the gas. Wind roared against the windows. The briefcase beside her seat rattled as if reminding her what she'd taken. The files inside weren't what Helios feared.
The truth buried inside them was.
Her sister had died for that truth.
Evie wasn't planning to join her.
Then the air shifted—like a breath drawn by the sky itself.
Before she could blink, the heavens split apart.
A flash—silent, brilliant, geometric—carved across the upper atmosphere. Not lightning. Not natural. It shimmered like reality had glitched, like someone had taken a cosmic scalpel and sliced through the night.
Her radio died.
Her engine sputtered.
The air snapped cold and metallic.
"What the—"
A sound rose from the distance.
A howl.
Low. Grinding. Mechanical.
Wrong.
Evie's head whipped left.
Her breath froze.
A tractor-trailer skidded sideways across the highway—jackknifed, massive, unstoppable. Sparks erupted beneath it, painting the asphalt with burning trails. The steel frame twisted like something alive and in agony.
For a split second, its headlights flickered:
Three short.
Two long.
Three short.
S… O… S.
Her blood ran cold.
That wasn't coincidence.
She slammed the brakes.
The truck tore through the guardrail—metal shrieking—and lunged into her lane.
Impact was inevitable.
The collision hit like a bomb. Steel folded. Glass exploded. Airbags detonated. Her body snapped forward and sideways, crushed between momentum and destruction. The world became noise and pain and shattering light.
Then—
Stillness.
Brutal, bone-deep stillness.
Evie gasped, fighting for breath. Her ribs throbbed. Her left arm was trapped beneath twisted metal. The inside of the car looked like a crushed tomb lit by flickering neon.
On the cracked dashboard:
SYSTEM FAILURE — UNKNOWN ENERGY SURGE DETECTED
Great.
Helios tech always left a signature when they wanted someone dead.
Her gaze slid to the warped briefcase—useless now. But the real data wasn't in the case.
It was in the locket pressed against her collarbone.
Soft heat pulsed beneath the metal. A faint glow leaked through the cracks—synchronizing with her heartbeat, reacting to the same impossible energy that had torn the sky open minutes earlier.
The secret Helios wanted.
The reason they'd murdered her sister.
The reason they would never stop hunting her.
Footsteps crunched outside the wreckage.
Slow. Heavy. Precision in every step.
Not a witness.
Not a rescuer.
A predator.
A shadow bent down. A gloved hand gripped the torn frame of her window. Then the agent's face appeared—cold eyes behind augmented lenses, Helios-grade tech woven into his expressionless features.
His modulated voice scraped through the smoke:
"Retrieve the asset. Secure the package."
His gaze locked on the mangled briefcase.
Evie tasted blood. "You're… too late."
The locket beat against her skin, harder now. Urgent. Warning or awakening—she couldn't tell.
With a strangled breath, she forced her right hand upward. Pain screamed through her body, but she yanked the chain free. The locket fell—slipping into a crack in the wreckage, tumbling out of sight.
The agent's composure snapped.
"Where is it?!"
Evie didn't answer.
She couldn't.
Her vision wavered. The stars above twisted, swirling like water down a drain—
Then the sky flashed again.
Brighter. Closer.
Wrong in every possible way.
Light washed over the world—a silent shockwave rippling across the highway, lifting dust and debris into a shimmering arc. The agent staggered, shielding his eyes.
Evie felt gravity twist.
Something pulled at her—inside and out.
Then everything broke.
Light swallowed her.
Sound vanished.
Pain dissolved.
And the world—
went dark.