Sierra's pulse thundered in her ears as she stared at the girl through the reinforced glass.
Annabel. Her daughter.
She hadn't imagined hearing it. The girl had said the name without hesitation. Like it was hers all along.
But her voice… it had no warmth. No tremble. No recognition in her eyes.
Just a flat, trained response. Mechanical. Programmed.
Sierra stepped closer. The glass separating them hissed with a faint electrical hum.
"Annabel," she whispered again.
The girl didn't move.
But something flickered in her eyes.
Recognition? Memory? Pain?
"I'm your mother," Sierra said, pressing her gloved palm to the glass.
No reaction.
"You were taken from me as an infant. Crestwell made you into this—but it isn't who you are."
Annabel tilted her head slightly. "Mother is a designation. You are not part of my command protocol."
The words stung worse than a bullet.
Sierra fought back the wave of heartbreak tightening in her chest.
"You're not a machine," she said softly. "You're more than what they programmed into you."
Behind her, a red light blinked above the entrance.
Security was coming.
Sierra knew she had seconds—maybe less—before this entire facility turned on her.
She reached into her coat and retrieved a small USB device—military-grade. It contained an old neural map she'd stolen from the Viper archives during her escape years ago. It had been her—the version before emotion was stripped away. Before she became a killer. It was the last true version of herself.
She slid it into the port by the console outside Annabel's chamber.
The screen blinked.
> Uploading Memory File… 12%...
"Hold on, baby," Sierra murmured, glancing toward the door. "I'm bringing you home."
---
In the security command room two floors above, alarms began to pulse.
"Unauthorized file transfer detected," one of the techs barked.
Crestwell appeared beside him in seconds.
"Which subject?"
"VX-087-A0."
His jaw tightened. "Lock the chamber. Initiate neutralization protocol."
"But, sir—"
"Do it."
---
Back in the chamber, Sierra watched the bar crawl forward. 29%... 42%...
Inside, Annabel shifted slightly. Her hand trembled. Eyes blinking rapidly.
Suddenly, she clutched her head.
"Stop…" she gasped. "What… what is this?"
Sierra's heart leapt.
She was remembering.
Sierra pressed her hand to the glass again, voice trembling. "It's who you were before him. Before they rewrote you. Before they tried to erase everything human in you."
Annabel backed against the wall, clutching her skull. A tear slipped down her cheek—one single tear.
And Sierra nearly broke.
> Upload complete.
The console blinked green.
Sierra quickly yanked the drive out and dropped it into a sanitization port, burning the evidence. She turned back just as the chamber's internal lights flickered.
Then a synthetic voice announced:
> "Subject breach. Neutralization in 30 seconds."
"No, no, no—"
Sierra slammed her fist on the emergency override. The panel refused her.
Behind the glass, Annabel began convulsing, eyes rolling back.
"Fight it!" Sierra shouted. "That's not who you are! You're my daughter!"
The lights flickered again—then went completely black.
Everything shut down.
The system crashed.
Sierra held her breath.
The chamber door slid open with a hiss.
Annabel collapsed into her arms.
Warm.
Breathing.
Human.
Sierra held her tightly, trembling. "I've got you," she whispered. "I've got you."
---
Minutes later, alarms still screaming behind her, Sierra carried Annabel down the side service hallway toward the emergency lift shaft. She had one goal now: get her daughter out of this hell.
Annabel stirred.
"I remember," she said weakly. "A lullaby…"
Sierra blinked. "What?"
"You sang it," she whispered. "In the dark… right before they took me. I remember your voice."
Tears burned Sierra's eyes.
"Yes," she whispered. "That was me. It's always been me."
Annabel clutched her tighter, her body trembling.
"I didn't forget," she murmured. "I just... couldn't remember."
As they reached the top of the shaft, Sierra turned back for one final look at the lab.
The facility Crestwell built to erase her…
…had failed.
Because blood remembers.
And now, Viper wasn't fighting alone.
She had her daughter.
Her shadow.
Her revenge.
And they were coming for him.
---