I returned to the glass palace above the city.
Not to rest.
But because the system had spoken.
Someone had accessed Project Rebirth—while I was dead.
"Adam."
"Yes, sir."
"Pull the full donor list."
The hologram expanded.
It wasn't a list.
It was a graveyard.
Names. Hundreds of them.
Each one a life erased.
Bankrupt businessmen.Desperate gamblers.And soldiers.
Retired.Active duty.
My gaze slowed.
Then stopped.
Wildcat.
My breath caught.
Wildcat.Li Hao.
My comms specialist.My soldier.
Always smiling. Talking about opening an internet café after discharge.
I remembered the report.
—Training accident. KIA.
My fist clenched.
"Pull his file."
"Li Hao. Callsign: Wildcat.Unit: Ghost Special Forces, Seventh Squad."
"Official status: deceased.Cause: fall during jungle adaptation training in Angola."
A lie so lazy it was insulting.
"Project status?"
"Status: Unassigned."
"Body stored in B-7 cryogenic vault."
"Unit ID: D-77."
My heart tightened.
Unassigned.
He hadn't been used yet.
"Prepare transport."
"I'm going to B-7."
The elevator plunged underground.
Cold air hit me as the doors opened.
Paul was already there.
"Any concerns about material storage, Mr. Weyland?"
He emphasized the word material.
I ignored him.
The vault doors parted.
White mist spilled out.
Rows of cryo-pods glowed blue—upright coffins.
"D-77."
The deepest pod lit up.
Step by step, I approached.
Through the frost-coated glass, I saw his face.
Pale.
Still.
As if asleep.
"Neural data?" I asked.
"Stripped. Fully wiped."
"Only autonomic functions preserved."
I placed my hand on the glass.
"Adam. Read sub-level EEG."
"Reading…"
A pause.
"Non-patterned residual activity detected."
My fingers tightened.
He was still there.
Like me.
Locked deep inside.
I leaned close to the glass.
"Brother."
"You're alive."
I straightened, eyes hardening beyond the rows of frozen bodies.
"Wait for me."