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"Don't move."
Vera's voice cuts through the stairwell before I clear the ninth-floor landing. I stop. Iris is two steps behind me, breathing hard.
"Hands up," Vera says. "Both of you."
I raise them slow. The red dot on my chest doesn't waver. She's got backup this time—three guards fanned out on the landing above, rifles trained down.
"Vera." I keep my voice level. "We're not the threat here."
"You shot my people." Her face is stone. "You burned through two floors like a wrecking ball. You want me to believe you're the good guy?"
"I want you to believe the building's rigged," I say. "Whatever they told you about lockdown protocol—it's a lie. Someone's running this from the inside."
She doesn't blink. "Who?"
"I don't know yet."
"Then you're no use to me." She shifts her stance. "Ms. Vaughn, step away from him."
Iris moves closer instead. Her shoulder brushes mine. "He's telling the truth."
"With respect, ma'am, you've been under duress. He could be—"
"He saved my life," Iris cuts in. "Twice. How many of your people can say that tonight?"
Vera's jaw tightens. The dot stays on my chest.
"Twelve," I say.
She frowns. "What?"
"Floor twelve. That's where this ends, right?" I take one step up. The dot follows. "That's where your orders told you to route her. High-value package, secure perimeter, hold until extraction. Except extraction never comes."
Her finger's on the trigger now. "How do you know that?"
"Because I've done this before." I take another step. "Twenty-seven times. And every single loop, you're here. Same position. Same speech. You shoot me, or I shoot you, and either way we all reset and do it again."
"You're insane."
"Maybe." I'm three steps below her now. Close enough to see the stress cracks in her voice. "But you felt it, didn't you? That skip in the timeline. Like you blinked and suddenly you're back in position, but your hands are tired and you don't remember why."
She doesn't answer. One of her guards shifts his weight.
"Vera." Iris's voice is quiet. "Please. Let us through."
Vera's eyes flick to her, then back to me. "If I let you past, and you're lying—"
"Then you can shoot me on twelve," I say. "But if I'm right, you're going to want backup when we get there."
The silence stretches. The red dot on my chest trembles.
Then Vera lowers the rifle. "You get one floor. Twelve. After that, you're in restraints or you're dead."
"Fair."
She steps aside. Her guards don't. They're younger, greener. One of them has his barrel pointed at Iris now.
"Stand down," Vera says.
They don't move.
"I said stand down."
The one aiming at Iris shakes his head. "Protocol says—"
"Protocol's compromised." Vera's voice hardens. "Lower your weapon."
He doesn't. His finger curls tighter.
I move before I think. Two steps, one pivot, my hand on his barrel, shoving it up as it fires. The round punches into the ceiling. Concrete dust rains down. I wrench the rifle out of his grip and toss it back down the stairs.
"Don't," I tell him.
He freezes. He's maybe twenty-two. His hands are shaking.
"Go home," I say. "This isn't your fight."
He looks at Vera. She nods once. He bolts.
The other two guards are still locked on me. I can feel their fear. They're one bad second away from opening up.
"Cade," Iris says quietly.
I glance back. She's pale. Her hand's pressed to her ribs where she took the fall two loops ago.
"I'm good," she says.
She's not. But there's no time.
Vera's eyes are on me again. "You didn't kill him."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm tired of counting bodies."
She studies me for a long beat. Then she looks at her remaining guards. "Fall back to the atrium. Secure the exits. No one in or out until I give the word."
They hesitate.
"That's an order."
They go. Slowly. Their rifles stay half-raised until they're out of sight.
Vera turns back to me. "You've got five minutes. Floor twelve. Then I'm coming up, and I won't ask twice."
"Understood."
She steps aside.
I move past her, Iris right behind me. The stairwell opens onto eleven. Empty hall. Emergency lights still strobing red.
"Cade."
I stop.
Vera's standing at the top of the landing, rifle slung low. "If you're lying about the loop—"
"I'm not."
"—then you just made me complicit. And I don't forget."
"Neither do I."
She doesn't smile. "Good."
I push through the door to twelve.
The lights are on.
That's wrong. Every other loop, this floor's been dark. Now it's lit like a showroom. White tile. Glass walls. Conference tables arranged in a perfect grid.
And bodies.
Five of them. Laid out in a line. Face-up. Hands folded.
I stop breathing.
"Cade?" Iris is beside me. She sees them and goes still.
I know this formation.
We used it in the field. Old unit protocol. When you lost a man, you laid him out like this. Boots together. Hands crossed. It meant they died in the line. It meant you carried them out.
I walk closer.
The faces are wrong. I don't know these people. But the positions—
"Jesus," Iris whispers.
The first body has my old call sign written on his chest in red marker.
*REAPER-6.*
The second has Noah's.
*REAPER-2.*
The third, fourth, fifth—my whole team. The names I haven't said out loud in three years.
I crouch beside the first body. Male. Late twenties. Gunshot wound to the head. Clean. Professional.
"They're dressed like your people," Iris says. She's looking at the last body. "These are Vera's guards."
She's right. Same uniform. Same gear. Someone killed them and staged them here.
For me.
"Cade." Her voice is tight. "This is a message."
"Yeah."
"From who?"
I don't answer. My eyes are on the far wall. There's a door. Heavy. Reinforced. The kind you use for server rooms or secure archives.
It's cracked open.
"Stay here," I tell Iris.
"Like hell."
I glance back. Her jaw's set. She's got her hand on the gun I gave her three loops ago.
"Fine," I say. "But if shooting starts, you hit the floor."
"If shooting starts, I'm the one they want. You hit the floor."
I almost smile. Almost.
We move toward the door. My pulse is a hammer. The bodies are still behind us. The call signs are burned into my head.
I push the door open.
The room inside is dark except for one screen.
It's playing a loop.
Me. In the elevator. Doors opening. Getting shot.
Then reset. Same moment. Same bullets.
Over.
And over.
And over.
Iris sucks in a breath. "That's—"
"Every loop," I say. "Someone's been watching."
The counter on the screen ticks down.
*25.*
Then a voice crackles through the speaker overhead.
Low. Familiar. The kind of voice that used to call me by my first name when no one else did.
"Hello, Cade."
I stop breathing.
"Miss me?"