Across the city, in a dimly lit office filled with surgical schematics and data monitors, Cassius leaned over a terminal. On the screen: a familiar set of bloodwork results, now overlaid with new comparisons.
"Sophia," he said without turning.
She stepped forward, arms folded. "Kendrick’s healing rate increased again. Sa with muscle density."
"And still no sign of cellular decay. That’s not Helix as we knew it."
"Could be Brent’s variation. A new serum base. Sothing stable."
Cassius stared at the charts. "Or soone else’s work. Soone who perfected what we abandoned."
Sophia hesitated. "Elias?"
Cassius exhaled slowly. "If he’s alive... he’s not hiding anymore. He’s drawing us in. And Kendrick’s the bait."
Sophia crossed her arms. "So what now? Do we tell Kendrick?"
Cassius leaned back, eyes dark. "No. We watch. And we wait. If Elias wants us to co to him... we’ll let him think it’s working."
---
Zephany sat alone in Pia’s apartnt, hunched over her notepad. The scribbled notes had little to do with journalism now—just fragnts. Nas. Locations. Dates.
She circled one.
"Brent."
He’d been in too many places at the wrong tis. The explosion at the abandoned lab, the shadowed figure outside her work, the mysterious vials she’d spotted in that broken case near Kaelion’s studio.
Her phone buzzed. A text from Kaelion: "Studio’s clear. You okay?"
She smiled faintly, fingers hovering over the keys.
Then another ssage blinked in.
Unknown number: "If you want answers about Kendrick, co alone. 11 PM. Lower Dock 9."
Her breath hitched.
She read it again.
And again.
Then slowly, she folded the paper, pocketed her phone, and stood.
"Ti to stop hiding."
---
The soft hum of the refrigerator filled the quiet kitchen. It was early evening, the kind of ti when the city outside still carried the echoes of rush hour, but in the apartnt, silence reigned. Kendrick leaned against the counter, a glass of water in his hand, staring at nothing in particular. His body was here, but his mind was far away, turning over everything Cassius had told him in the hospital.
Not told, exactly. That was the worst part. Cassius hadn’t spoken in plain words, but the ssage had been there, tucked between the lines of dical jargon and careful omissions. He was hiding sothing, withholding sothing. Kendrick’s instincts told him so, and instincts were rarely wrong.
His fingers tightened around the glass, and he forced himself to exhale slowly.
Behind him, the sound of the front door unlocking broke through the stillness. Zephany stepped inside, her bag slipping off her shoulder, her hair a little windswept from the walk ho. She closed the door gently, as if careful not to disturb the silence she felt the mont she entered.
"Kendrick?" her voice was soft, tentative.
He straightened, setting the glass down before turning to face her. "You’re ho." His tone was steady, practiced.
Zephany tilted her head slightly, studying him. She could always sense it—when his walls were higher than usual, when his kindness felt too asured. Tonight was one of those nights.
"I stopped by the bakery downstairs," she said, lifting a small paper bag. "They had fresh rolls."
He smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "That was thoughtful."
Zephany walked to the counter, setting the bag down. "Thoughtful is my specialty." She said it lightly, but she was watching him closely, reading the tension in the lines of his shoulders. "You didn’t eat yet, did you?"
"I wasn’t hungry."
"Not hungry, or not in the mood?"
Kendrick’s gaze flickered to her, caught by the accuracy of the question. He sighed quietly, running a hand over his face. "Maybe both."
Zephany didn’t press imdiately. She unpacked the rolls, placing them on a plate. The warm scent of bread drifted between them, comforting in its simplicity. Then she leaned on the counter across from him, folding her arms.
"Sothing happened at the hospital," she said, not as a guess but as a certainty.
Kendrick’s jaw tightened. He didn’t answer right away.
Zephany studied him, her usual clumsy, shy façade slipping just a little. This was one of those monts when her sharpness showed through, the part of her she couldn’t always keep hidden. "I can tell, you know. You get this... distance in your eyes when you’re holding sothing back."
He wanted to deny it, to deflect with a gentle smile or a change of subject. But he couldn’t. Not with her.
"Cassius," he said finally, voice low. "He said things that didn’t make sense. Or maybe they made too much sense."
Zephany’s heart gave a small jolt at the ntion of that na. She schooled her expression, keeping her voice steady. "Cassius Varen? Your... doctor?"
Kendrick nodded. "He wasn’t straightforward. He never is. He spoke about test results, about anomalies... but the way he looked at , the pauses—it felt like he was telling sothing without telling ."
Zephany’s fingers gripped her arm. Inside, a storm was rising. She knew Cassius—knew his calculated way of operating. If he was circling around sothing with Kendrick, it wasn’t by accident.
"What do you think he ant?" she asked carefully.
"That there’s sothing in he hasn’t explained," Kendrick said. "Sothing I should already know. And I can’t tell if it’s about my health or..." He trailed off, frustrated. "Or about sothing else entirely."
Zephany lowered her gaze, her pulse quickening. She thought of the night of the car crash, the way their injuries had vanished before their eyes. She thought of the missions, the secrets, the nas Obscura and Eclipse. And she thought of how dangerously close the truth was circling them both.
She forced her tone to remain even. "Maybe you should ask him directly."
Kendrick gave a short, humorless laugh. "Cassius doesn’t answer direct questions. He gives riddles. Or worse, silence."
They stood there, the air thick with unspoken truths.
Finally, Zephany moved around the counter, reaching for his hand. Her touch was gentle, grounding. "Then don’t let him get into your head. You’ve been through worse, Kendrick. Whatever this is, you’ll face it the sa way you always do."
His eyes softened as he looked at her. "You always know how to say the right thing."
She smiled faintly. "Not always. Just when it matters."
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