The town was quiet.
Too quiet.
Adanna hadn't spoken to anyone in three days — not since she left Silas and Malcolm behind.
The world felt surreal now.
Like she was moving through a memory that didn't belong to her.
Her new name was Mira Doss.
Her new identity was untraceable.
But inside… she was still Adanna.
Still haunted.
Still listening for footsteps in the silence.
She rented a small room above a dusty bookstore run by an old woman with cloudy eyes and a sharper mind than she let on.
"I don't ask questions," the woman said. "But I notice everything."
Adanna appreciated the honesty.
Some people smiled too much when they lied.
This one simply watched.
The fog rolled in on the fourth morning.
Thick, cold, unnatural.
Adanna stood by the window and stared into the grey.
Her instincts twitched.
Something was wrong.
Not with the weather.
With the silence.
It was too still.
She stepped outside — jacket zipped, gun holstered at her thigh.
The bookstore owner was already waiting on the steps.
"You've brought something with you," she said.
Adanna blinked. "What?"
The old woman pointed toward the trees.
And there — barely visible through the fog — stood a figure.
Tall. Lean. Motionless.
Watching.
"Is that someone you know?" the woman asked.
"No," Adanna said slowly. "But I think he knows me."
She approached carefully.
Step by step.
No sudden moves.
The fog shifted, and the man became clearer.
He wore a black coat and gloves.
His face was expressionless.
His voice was calm.
"Spindle 0-1."
Adanna stopped cold.
"Don't call me that."
He tilted his head.
"You are the last. The others have failed. I've come to recover the asset."
"I'm not an asset."
"You're property."
She raised her gun. "Try me."
The man didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Didn't flinch.
"I am not here to fight. I am here to retrieve. You were not authorized to disconnect."
"Good," she said. "I didn't ask."
He studied her, as if calculating risk.
"You disabled Cade. You disrupted the chain."
"He tried to own me. I ended it."
"And now," the man said, stepping forward, "you will complete it."
Adanna fired.
The bullet passed through him.
A projection.
She cursed.
It wasn't real.
But the message was.
That night, she activated the burner comm and called Silas.
"Talk to me," he said immediately.
"There's someone new," she said. "Someone deeper than Cade. They sent a retrieval drone. Cloaked as a man. Knows everything."
Silas swore under his breath. "You were supposed to be the final node. If someone else is active…"
"Then Spindle isn't dead," she whispered.
Malcolm's voice cut in on the line. "Where are you?"
"No," Adanna snapped. "Don't come. This isn't a rescue. This is a warning."
"Adanna—"
But she ended the call.
She stood alone on the rooftop that night.
The fog had lifted, but the chill remained.
She looked up at the sky.
No stars again.
Only blinking satellites.
Watching.
Recording.
Waiting.
And she finally asked herself the question she'd been avoiding:
What if she hadn't destroyed Spindle?
What if she'd only awakened something worse?