Chapter 18 · The Echo of a Dead Name

"Who the hell is Elena?" I screamed it, my voice echoing off the rusted ribs of the data center.

I didn't wait for an answer. I lunged. My fingers clawed for the masked man's throat, but he stepped back with a fluidity that felt wrong—too fast, too precise. He didn't even raise his hands to defend himself. He just watched me, his eyes cold slits behind the visor.

"You're shaking, Elena," he said. His voice was a distorted rasp, filtered through a modulator. "Does the name taste like poison? Or just a memory you weren't allowed to keep?"

"Stop calling me that!" I swung a heavy right hook. He dipped his shoulder, the movement barely an inch, and the punch whistled through empty air. Before I could reset, he grabbed my wrist. His grip was like a vice, cold and unrelenting. He twisted, pinning my arm behind my back and slamming my chest against a jagged server rack.

Metal bit into my shoulder blades. I gasped, the air leaving me in a sharp hiss.

"You think Silas is your savior because he gave you a purpose?" The man leaned in, his breath smelling of ozone and stale copper.