Chapter 20 · The Warden Protocol

"Stop."

Ada's voice cuts through the roar of collapsing code. Victor—no, *a* Victor—spins toward her, gun raised, face smeared with blood that might not even be real.

"Don't," he says. "I'm close. I can feel the core. Just give me thirty seconds."

"You said that six loops ago."

"This time it's different."

"They all say that." Ada sidesteps left, putting the concrete pillar between them. The storm overhead pulses, spitting error messages in red text across every surface. Around them, twenty more Victors are tearing through the prison's guts, ripping wiring, smashing screens, bleeding from wounds that reset every time the instance flickers.

She's lost count of how many times she's watched him die.

"Ada, listen—"

"No." She raises her own weapon. "You listen. The core's playing you. Every Victor in here thinks he's the real one. Every single one thinks he's about to crack it."

He lowers the gun. Just an inch. "I remember everything. The first loop. The injection. The way you looked at me when I told you my kill count."

"So do the other nineteen."

"Test me."

"I did." Her voice goes flat. "Four loops back. I asked what I said the first time we kissed.