Echoes of the PastThe low hum of Riley’s laptop filled the dimly lit room, the blue glow casting restless shadows along the walls. She was in full hacker mode—head down, fingers a blur across the keyboard, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she cut through layer after layer of encryption.I paced behind her, restless. My head throbbed like a live wire, a pulsing ache just behind my eyes.“Come on, come on…” Riley muttered.I pressed my fingers against my temple, exhaling sharply. “How much longer?”She huffed, her voice tight with concentration. “Do you want it fast, or do you want it done right?”The air between us crackled with impatience. I raked a hand through my hair and glanced at the screen. Strings of code unraveled in real time, revealing classified mission logs. My name was all over them. Too many times.Then—something shifted.The pain in my head sharpened, slicing through my skull like a hot blade. My vision blurred.And suddenly, I wasn’t in the room anymore.---

Unraveling the WebThe timestamp is the only uncorrupted piece of data in the entire file. One marker in an ocean of static, a whisper in the storm.Riley leans back in her chair, rubbing her temples. “This is all we’ve got,” she mutters. “One goddamn timestamp.”I study the numbers on the screen. It’s not much, but it’s enough.“It’s a location,” I say, voice steady despite the unease threading through my gut.Her head snaps toward me. “How do you know?”Because it has to be. Because nothing in this mess is random. Because if I let myself believe this is just a coincidence, then I have to accept that Elias is dead, Julian is dead, and I am completely alone in the middle of a war I don’t understand.I refuse.I point to the string of numbers. “Look at the pattern—it matches old military timestamps. Cross-reference it with known decommissioned sites.”Riley hesitates, then gets to work. The keyboard clic

The Fracture PointThe past is a cruel thing. It waits in the dark corners of your mind, patient and still, until the moment you least expect it. Then it strikes—sinking its claws in, dragging you backward, forcing you to relive what you desperately want to forget.I stare at the old military dossier sprawled across Riley’s desk, my pulse hammering like a war drum. Coordinates, declassified reports, and the faded photograph of a place that should’ve been buried under history: an abandoned base, hidden deep in the forest, where The Oath had once carried out their most classified operations.Riley moves beside me, flipping through the papers. Her sharp eyes dart between documents, lips pursed, the weight of the past pressing down on both of us.“We leave at dawn,” she says, but she’s barely looking at me. Her fingers tighten on a report labeled "Incident Report: Julian Cain."Julian.The name sends a cold bolt through my spine. The

The Watchers in the DarkThe world is spinning. My skull throbs where I took the hit, but the pain keeps me grounded. Keeps me present.Footsteps echo in the corridors, methodical, deliberate. They’re hunting us.Riley presses against the cold concrete beside me, her breathing steady, but her fingers are tight around her gun. I can almost feel the calculations running behind her eyes. We don’t have long before they find us.I flex my hands, shaking off the last remnants of disorientation. “How many?”She glances at me, sharp and precise. “Two, maybe more. Tactical gear, moving like Oath operatives.”That should bother me. The Oath was supposed to be dead.I grip my weapon tighter, steadying myself. “We need eyes.”Riley nods and moves. She’s quick—silent, like a shadow—crossing to a rusted security console against the far wall. It’s dead, just like the rest of this place, but Riley doesn’t need working systems.

The Enemy WithinThe bunker explodes into chaos.Red warning lights strobe, cutting jagged shadows across the walls. The air thickens with the stench of scorched metal as security drones swarm the corridor. Their mechanical limbs hiss, guns clicking into place, each movement calculated, efficient, lethal.I don’t think. I move.Fire. Pivot. Strike. Reload.A drone lunges. I sidestep, bringing my elbow down hard against its core. Metal groans beneath the impact, but it recalibrates fast. I jam my pistol against its optics and pull the trigger. The shot rips through its head, sending it crashing into a mess of sparking wires.Behind me, Riley moves with practiced speed, her fingers dancing over her tablet as she fights to disrupt their systems. Disrupt. Disable. Destroy.“I’m overriding their targeting,” she shouts. “Give me a second!”We don’t have a second.Another drone pivots toward me, its targeting