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The warehouse smelled like rust and old motor oil. Cole kicked the door shut behind them and dragged a metal shelf in front of it. His hands were shaking. Blood still crusted under his nose.
"They'll track us here," Layla said. Her voice came out flat. She was past panic now. Past the part where she could pretend any of this made sense.
Cole pulled out the scanner. The screen lit up his face in cold blue. "Yeah. They will. Because of this."
The tracker icon blinked inside the outline of his body. Right where his heart should be.
Layla stared at it. "You said you'd cut it out."
"I will." He set the scanner on a table and started pulling open drawers. "Soon as I figure out where the hell it is."
"Cole—"
"It's not in my wrist. Not in my neck. HQ buried it deep." He yanked out a roll of duct tape, a box cutter, a length of wire. His movements were too fast. Too sharp. "Probably thought I'd never need to know."
Layla watched him tear through the drawers like he could find an answer in old tools and zip ties. "You don't even know if it's safe to remove."
"Safe?" Cole laughed. It sounded wrong. "Layla, I'm a walking GPS tag for a kill squad. Safe left the building three chapters ago."
She crossed her arms. Her ribs still hurt from running. "Then let me go. You stay here, I disappear, they lose the signal."
"No."
"Cole—"
"They already scanned you. They have your biometric signature now. You think they won't find you the second you step outside?" He slammed a drawer shut. "The only reason you're still breathing is because I'm here and they don't want collateral damage on a compromised asset."
"Compromised," Layla repeated. "That's what you are now?"
Cole didn't answer. He pulled a laptop from under a tarp and flipped it open. The screen flickered on. Password prompt.
"Where'd you get that?"
"Old safehouse. Off-grid backup." He typed fast. "HQ keeps files on every agent. Surgical logs, enhancement records, tracker installation protocols. If I can access my file, I can find out where they put it."
The laptop beeped. Access denied.
"Shit." Cole tried again. Same result.
Layla moved closer. "What's wrong?"
"Biometric lock. It needs a scan to verify identity." He looked at her. "And I can't use mine because HQ flagged my profile the second I went off-mission."
She frowned. "So we're stuck."
"Not if you can do that thing again."
Layla's stomach dropped. "What thing."
"The thing you did to the guy in the tunnel. When you touched him and his scanner went haywire."
"I don't—" She stopped. Her hands felt cold. "I don't know what I did."
"You erased his signal. Or scrambled it. I don't know the technical term." Cole pushed the laptop toward her. "But if you can mess with a scanner, maybe you can mess with a biometric lock."
Layla stared at the keyboard. "That's insane."
"Yeah, well, so is cutting a tracker out of my chest cavity with a box cutter, but here we are." He gestured at the screen. "Try it."
She hesitated. Then she placed her palm flat on the scanner pad.
Nothing happened.
"Think about it," Cole said. "Like you did before."
"I wasn't thinking. I just—"
"Then don't think. Just do it."
Layla closed her eyes. She tried to remember the tunnel. The man's hand on her arm. The spike of fear. The way his grip had loosened, his face going slack.
She'd wanted him gone.
The laptop beeped.
Her eyes snapped open. The screen had changed. No more password prompt. Just a loading bar.
"Holy shit," Cole breathed. "It worked."
The bar filled. A directory opened. Rows of file names scrolled past. Cole leaned in and started typing, pulling up folders, scanning through records.
"There." He clicked on a file labeled AGENT_BLACKC_ENHANCEMENT_LOG. "Installation date, procedure notes, tracker model—"
The screen flickered.
Cole frowned. "What—"
The lights overhead stuttered. Once. Twice.
Layla smelled it before she understood. Sweet. Chemical. Like antiseptic and something else.
"Gas," Cole said. He grabbed her wrist. "We need to move."
"Where? The door's blocked and—"
The laptop screen went black.
"No. No, no, no." Cole hit keys. Nothing. He looked up at the ceiling. At the vents. "They're not tracking us. They're flushing us out."
Layla's throat started to itch. Her eyes burned. "Cole—"
"The files. I need the files." He pulled the scanner back out, tried to reboot the laptop. His hands were clumsy now. "If I can just—"
Layla coughed. Her knees buckled.
Cole caught her. "Stay with me."
"Can't—" She couldn't get air. The room tilted.
Cole's face blurred above her. He was saying something but the words came through water. She saw him pull her hand to the scanner pad again. Felt the cold metal under her palm.
The itch in her throat turned to fire.
"Do it," Cole said. His voice cracked. "Layla. Do it now."
She didn't know what she was doing. She just pushed. Not with her hand. With something else. Something inside that had always been there, quiet and waiting.
The laptop screen flashed white.
Files exploded across the display. Medical records. Surveillance footage. A list of names. Coordinates. And then—
An infant. Grainy footage. Hospital blanket. A tiny wristband with a printed label: NULL-07.
Cole's face went white. "That's—"
"Me," Layla whispered.
The image changed. A woman in a lab coat leaning over the bassinet. Dark hair pulled back. Tired eyes. She wasn't looking at the camera. She was looking at the baby.
Layla's chest seized.
She knew that face.
"Mom?"
Cole's hand tightened on her shoulder. "What did you just say?"
But Layla couldn't answer. Because the woman on the screen had just turned toward the camera. And her mouth was moving. No sound. Just lips forming words.
The file header scrolled across the bottom: DR_GREY_FINAL_ENTRY_TIMESTAMP_REDACTED.
Cole hit a key. Audio crackled to life.
The woman's voice came through thin and distorted. "If you're watching this, someone broke the lock. That means they're close. That means Cole's already found her."
Layla stopped breathing.
The woman looked straight into the camera. Straight at them. "Don't let Cole find her. Don't let him remember. If he does, they'll use him to erase everything I built. And she'll disappear for good."
The screen went black.
The laptop died.
Cole's hand fell away from Layla's shoulder. He staggered back a step. His face had gone pale. "What the hell did she mean, don't let me remember?"
Layla tried to stand. Her legs wouldn't hold her. The gas was thicker now. She could taste metal.
"Cole—"
He dropped to his knees beside her. His pupils were blown wide. "She knew my name. Your mother knew my name."
"I don't—"
"She said I'd find you. She said I'd remember." His voice was hoarse. "Layla, what did they do to me?"
Layla's vision tunneled. The room spun. She reached for him but her hand passed through air.
The last thing she heard before the darkness took her was Cole's voice, cracked and desperate, calling a name she didn't recognize.
"Elise."
And then nothing.