The rain came without warning—sharp, cold, and relentless. It hit the windows of the Blackstone estate in staccato bursts, like it was trying to remind Adelina that time was running out.
She stood by the window, her arms folded tightly over her chest, watching the shadows cast by the storm flicker over the grounds. Nathan hadn't come home all night. And the silence in the house wasn't just unsettling—it was accusatory.
The air still smelled like the tension from yesterday's confrontation. Elena's words looped in her head like a record she couldn't turn off: "Ask him why someone would try so hard to make you forget something—unless what you forgot was never meant to be remembered."
Adelina turned as the door creaked open. Nathan walked in slowly, his expression unreadable, drenched from the rain.
"You didn't come home," she said, her voice flat.
"I needed time," he said. "To think."
"You mean to decide how much more to lie to me?"
Nathan winced but didn't look away. He dropped his coat by the door, his shoulders sagging like the weight of years rested on them.
"Elena told me the truth," Adelina pressed. "Didn't she?"
There was a long pause.
"Yes," he finally admitted. "But not the whole truth."
Adelina's stomach turned. "That's always your excuse. Half-truths. Omitted facts. Secrets wrapped in just enough care to feel like love."
"I didn't lie to hurt you."
"No," she said, stepping closer, "you lied to control me. You kept me in the dark because it was easier for you that way. And now Elena—"
"Elena is dangerous," he cut in sharply.
"She's dangerous because she tells me things you won't?"
Nathan ran a hand through his wet hair, his voice breaking. "She's connected to the program. To your origin. She was there when they designed you. But she has her own agenda."
"So do you."
He looked at her then, truly looked at her. And she hated the way his eyes softened, as if she were something fragile.
"Adelina," he said slowly, "there are things about your creation that are complicated. Things that weren't supposed to happen. I tried to fix that. I tried to protect you from it."
"What aren't you telling me?"
He shook his head. "Not yet."
Her chest tightened. "Then I can't trust you."
"Please," Nathan said, stepping forward. "Just wait until tomorrow. I'll take you to the facility. I'll show you everything. I promise."
"And if I don't want to wait?" she asked quietly.
He froze.
Later that afternoon, the estate's main hall was filled with voices. Viktor Gavrila's presence sucked the warmth from the room like a vacuum. He stood like a statue of control, flanked by two of his men, his silver tie impeccable, his gloved hands folded.
"Elena must leave the country immediately," he said without preamble.
Adelina tensed. "You're exiling her?"
"She was never authorized to reenter this level of involvement. Her presence is a threat to operational integrity."
"She's not a threat," Adelina said, her voice rising.
Nathan, standing silently beside Viktor, didn't meet her eyes.
"She's my only chance at the full truth."
"She is a remnant of an experiment," Viktor replied coolly. "One that should've been buried. You should be grateful for your second chance, not clawing at the wreckage of the first."
Adelina's voice was cold. "You mean grateful to be alive, but blind."
Viktor stepped closer. "You don't understand the danger, Adelina. You're not just someone with a past. You're a catalyst. If certain memories are triggered—"
"Then what?" she snapped. "I become what you made me to be?"
Nathan finally looked at her. "We made you human. That was the point. You weren't supposed to carry that burden."
"But I do," she said. "And I will carry it my way."
That night, Adelina sent the message. A secure line, routed through a burner device Elena had given her weeks ago, when they first started meeting in secret.
Tomorrow. Midnight. The old observatory. Come alone.
She slipped the phone beneath the mattress, her hands trembling. Her heart pounded in her chest like it was trying to outrun her.
Nathan wouldn't understand. He said he would tell her everything tomorrow, but tomorrow wasn't soon enough.
She needed to see Elena now.
She needed to remember.
The clock struck eleven. Adelina slipped from her room, wrapped in a dark coat, her steps silent against the marble floor.
Outside, the storm had passed. The air smelled of wet earth and broken promises.
She moved quickly, ducking into the garage where her bike was hidden beneath a tarp. The engine purred as she started it, the sound muffled by the trees that lined the estate.
The observatory was a relic—abandoned since the collapse of the North Sector's old research division. But she knew the path. Her feet had walked it in memories she wasn't supposed to have.
She didn't see the black car pull out after her.
The observatory stood like a scar against the sky. Rusted and half-collapsed, but still towering, its dome split open to the stars.
Adelina dismounted and walked toward it, her breath visible in the cold night air.
"Elena?" she called.
A figure emerged from the shadows. Elena, coat fluttering in the wind, eyes hard.
"You came," Elena said softly.
"I need the truth," Adelina said. "Not pieces. Not crumbs."
Elena nodded. "Then let's begin where they ended it."
She handed Adelina a tablet—one Adelina instantly recognized. The interface. The old files.
Adelina's fingers hovered above the screen.
"These are the memory locks," Elena said. "One of them is the truth. One of them… is what they made you believe."
"And the others?"
"Fragments. Glitches. But some might be real. I can't say."
Adelina selected the first.
The screen flashed. A lab. Her. Screaming. A voice saying, "Wipe her again. She's remembering too much."
Adelina recoiled.
She tapped the second.
Nathan. Standing over her. Saying, "She's not supposed to feel this much. Turn her off."
The third: a child's drawing. Hers. Labeled "Home". But the home was just a white room.
Adelina's knees buckled.
"I…" she whispered. "I don't know what's real."
Elena knelt beside her. "That's what they wanted."
A sharp sound cracked through the air.
Footsteps.
Nathan.
He stepped into the broken dome, breathless, eyes dark.
"What did you do?" he asked Elena, voice low.
"She has the right," Elena said, rising to face him.
"You unlocked them?" he whispered, horrified.
"She chose to."
He turned to Adelina, voice breaking. "You weren't ready—"
"I was never going to be ready," she snapped. "You made sure of that."
"Adelina," he stepped forward. "There's one file you must never open."
"Why?" she asked, backing away. "What's in it?"
"I tried to delete it," he whispered. "Because it's the one thing I can't undo."
She looked down at the screen.
There it was.
File X. LOCKED.
She pressed it.
Nathan lunged—
The screen went black.
A single line of text appeared:
PROJECT: OBELISK. FUNCTION: MEMORY REDACTION AND EMOTIONAL WEAPONIZATION. PRIMARY SUBJECT: ADELINA.
Her breath caught. Her vision blurred.
Elena stared. "They used your emotions as code. You were the prototype for psychological weaponry."
Adelina's hands shook. "What did I do?"
Nathan's face was pale.
"You didn't do anything," he whispered. "We did."
And then—
A gunshot.
The sound echoed in the dome.
Elena's eyes widened.
Blood.
Adelina turned—
Someone was standing in the entrance.
Viktor.
Gun still raised.
"Enough," he said.
Blackness took the edges of her vision.
Then, silence.