The wind that swept across the Balkans that night was icy, slicing through stone like a whisper from the grave. In a remote mountain village buried in the cliffs of Montenegro, an old safehouse blinked to life—security lights flickering on for the first time in nearly a decade.
Sierra and Annabel sat across from one another at the kitchen table, hands wrapped around chipped mugs of strong black coffee. Neither spoke for several long moments.
The fire crackled, throwing shifting shadows across the walls.
Annabel finally broke the silence. "How many of us are left?"
Sierra didn't hesitate. "Eight."
Annabel flinched. "Eight… clones?"
"No." Sierra looked up. "Assassins. From the original Viper Program. The first generation. Before Crestwell started cloning. Before the mind-mapping."
Annabel blinked. "You mean like… people trained like you?"
Sierra nodded. "People I trained with. People who survived. Crestwell tried to kill them all after I escaped. Thought we were too unpredictable. But a few disappeared. Went dark. Ghosts."
Annabel leaned forward. "And now?"
"Now they're either targets…" Sierra paused, "or pawns."
---
At that moment, high in the Alps, one of those ghosts—Rafael Dorne, codename Blizzard—was staring down the barrel of a sniper rifle. His breaths were slow, measured. He had aged well—grizzled, scarred, but no less lethal.
But tonight, something felt off.
The snow was too quiet.
The wind too still.
And the forest behind him… too silent.
Then he felt it. A prick of movement. A presence.
He rolled to the side just as a bullet sliced past his cheek.
Not just any bullet—VX-fabricated. Traced. Marked for a kill.
He darted through the snowdrift, his feet kicking up ice as he maneuvered behind a broken tower wall. He pulled his blade and waited.
One footstep.
Two.
Then—
A figure leapt at him, blade aimed for his throat.
He twisted, grabbed the attacker mid-air, and slammed them into the snow. The mask came off.
A face.
Her face.
But not Sierra.
One of the clones.
The girl hissed, kicking him hard enough to knock him into a pine trunk.
Rafael grunted.
"She sent you?" he spat.
The clone said nothing. Just raised her pistol.
A red dot settled over his heart.
But before the shot came—
Bang.
The clone dropped, a hole between her eyes.
Sierra stepped out of the trees, gun still raised, smoke trailing from the barrel.
Rafael blinked, still panting. "Took you long enough."
She smirked. "You're slipping, old man."
He chuckled. "You've still got perfect timing."
Annabel appeared behind her mother, eyes wide as she looked at the dead clone.
"She looks exactly like you."
"She was programmed to be me," Sierra said coldly. "But she wasn't me."
Rafael wiped blood from his chin and gave Annabel a sharp once-over. "You're hers?"
Annabel nodded. "Biological. Not synthetic."
He grunted. "Then you've got more of a soul than most people I've met."
Sierra tossed him a medkit. "You're the first."
He arched a brow. "First what?"
"The first assassin to survive an attack from VX's new clones. There will be more. Crestwell's picking us off one by one—either to erase evidence or because he's afraid we'll unite."
Rafael tightened the bandage around his arm. "What do you want, Sierra?"
She crouched beside him. "I want your help. We're building a team. The old shadows. The ones Crestwell couldn't control."
He raised a brow. "And you're leading this suicide mission?"
She looked him square in the eyes. "I'm finishing what he started. But my way."
Rafael glanced at the dead clone again. "Then I'm in."
---
Back in the safehouse later that night, Sierra uploaded the mission report to a secure satellite network. One clone down. Seven assassins left.
She stared at a list of names glowing on her screen:
Rafael Dorne — Contacted
Cassia Vale — Unknown
Niko Ren — Last seen in Cairo
Eliot Graves — Presumed dead
Tora Myles — Exiled
Lucien Drae — Imprisoned
Helenna Crowe — Dangerous, unstable
Annabel leaned over her shoulder. "You're really doing it. Gathering the originals."
Sierra nodded. "They were the first weapons Crestwell made. But they were human. With pasts. With pain. That's why we're the only ones who can stop him now."
Annabel sat back. "One down. Six to go."
Sierra's jaw tightened. "No. He's already sent clones after some of them. They might not all make it."
Annabel turned toward her. "Then we make sure they do. We find them before he does."
Sierra gave her a rare smile.
"You really are my daughter."
Outside, the wind screamed down the mountains, as if echoing the name Crestwell across the stone.
But for the first time, Sierra didn't feel like a shadow.
She felt like a storm.
And it had only just begun.