Chapter 13 · The Nine-Minute Directive

The gun fired before Seren could drop it.

The shot punched into the archive ceiling. Metal screamed. White memory-light burst from the impact and rained across the room in hot, glittering scraps.

Ian slammed into her from the side.

“Move!”

They hit the floor together. His shoulder crushed her ribs, and the wound in his chest opened again under the pressure. Blood soaked through his shirt. It ran across the black archive tiles and disappeared into the thin grooves between them.

Nora grabbed the gun hand. “Seren, let go!”

“I’m trying!”

The pistol bucked again.

Ian caught Seren’s wrist with both hands and shoved the barrel toward the ceiling. The third shot tore through a hanging cable. Sparks snapped over their heads. Somewhere behind the walls, a machine began counting.

Nine minutes.

The number appeared across every glass panel in the archive.

08:59.

08:58.

The voice came through the speakers in Seren’s own tone.

“Execute the target. Preserve the loop.”

Seren’s stomach turned. “That isn’t me.”

“It sounds like you,” Nora said.

“It’s not me.”

The gun kicked in her grip again. Ian twisted her wrist until her fingers went numb.