I didn't touch the box for three hours.
I paced the room.
Poured water I didn't drink.
Stared at my reflection like it might split and tell me something I didn't already fear.
But the box just sat there: black, silent, small. Like it was waiting for me to stop pretending I had a choice.
> I picked it up.
It was heavier than I expected. Cold.
There was no lock, just a groove along the side. I slid my thumb along it, and the lid gave way with a soft click.
Inside: a flash drive.
A thin gold ring.
And a folded photo that looked decades old.
I reached for the picture first.
It was my mother.
But not the version I knew.
She looked younger. Stronger. Standing between two men in suits. One had his hand on her shoulder. The other… looked just like me.
My stomach twisted.
Because whoever that man was… he had the same eyes.
Same mouth. Same bone structure.
He could've been my older brother.
Or...
> My father?
I turned the photo over.
One word written in red ink on the back:
> "Run."
My chest tightened.
> Run from what?
From who?
And why now?
I grabbed the flash drive, slid it into the burner laptop I bought earlier in the week.
A folder popped up instantly: "SECTOR 9. BLACK FILE."
Password protected.
I tried my name.
My mother's name.
Birthdays. Cities. Nothing worked.
Then I looked at the ring.
On the inside was one word, etched so finely I almost missed it:
> "Morgan."
Not my first name. Not my mother's.
But maybe the only name that still held meaning.
I typed it in.
> Access granted.
And just like that…
everything began to fall apart.
The screen flickered, then cleared.
A single file opened.
Inside it were dozens of surveillance images. Confidential records. Transaction receipts. Government files marked CLASSIFIED in red digital ink.
But none of it hit me…
Until I saw her name.
Adele Morgan.
My mother.
Next to it: "Status: TRAITOR. DECEASED. CODE-LEVEL: BLOODLINE LOCKED."
Bloodline.
I leaned closer. My hand was shaking.
Click.
A video loaded.
And then I saw her.
My mother — sitting in a dimly lit room, staring into a camera. Her eyes weren't afraid.
They were determined.
> "If you're watching this," she said, "then I failed. And you're the one they're coming for next."
My breath caught in my throat.
She was younger here. Not weak. Not scared. Fierce.
> "The Morgan legacy isn't money. It's information. And in the wrong hands, it's war."
I leaned forward, heart pounding.
> "I hid the key to Sector Nine inside my daughter. Literally. She carries it in her blood, encoded in her DNA. It was the only way. No files. No copies. No betrayals. Just her."
> "Her name is Rhea."
I stared at the screen in disbelief.
> Me.
> "If you're hearing this, baby," she said, voice breaking, "you were never ordinary. And they will stop at nothing to extract what you carry."
> "Don't trust anyone. Not the man who brought you in. Not the ones who claim they're helping you. Not even the one who says he loves you."
> "Especially not him."
The screen cut to black.
I was frozen. Cold. My entire body locked in place.
My mother had implanted something inside me?
Something people would kill for?
And that man, the one I met today;the one who said she "stole" from him…
> He knew.
He'd known from the moment I walked through the door.
> That's why he called me a weapon.
> That's why he looked at me like a code.
Because I wasn't just her daughter.
> I was the vault.
I stood up too fast.
The room spun. I grabbed the edge of the table to steady myself.
My phone buzzed on the desk.
No caller ID.
I didn't answer.
It buzzed again. This time: a message.
> Unknown:
They know you opened it. You have twenty minutes. Get out.
I didn't even stop to think.
I grabbed the flash drive. The photo. The ring.
Then ran.
The hallway outside the room was dark, but not empty.
Three men stood at the far end. Suits. Armed. No insignias.
They saw me. And didn't hesitate.
I turned on instinct, ducked down a stairwell and bolted into the underground garage.
Screeching tires. A black SUV swerved to cut me off.
Another one.
Trapped.
But just as I backed into the corner, ready to fight even if I'd lose..
Bang.
One of the men dropped.
A second shot. Another body fell.
A masked figure grabbed my arm.
> "Move!"
> "Who are you?!"
> "Someone who doesn't want to see you carved open in a lab."
I didn't ask questions. I ran.
We made it out through a maintenance tunnel. My boots slamming against wet concrete. My lungs burning.
Only when we were in the back of a stolen car did I look at him again.
He pulled off the mask.
And for the first time since this nightmare began ...
> I saw someone who looked like me.
> "Name's Kylen," he said. "I'm your brother."
The words echoed like a loaded gun in a locked room.
I stared at him, my back pressed against the cold leather seat, heart hammering in my chest. Every inch of my body screamed don't believe him but his eyes?
They were mine.
Sharp. Cautious. Already damaged by something older than either of us could name.
> "You're lying," I breathed. "You're one of them."
> "If I was, we wouldn't be talking right now."
He tossed something into my lap.
A photo. Old and frayed at the edges.
A woman holding two babies. One on each arm.
My mother.
And the second child ; the one she held protectively against her chest had a small birthmark just under his right ear.
I looked at Kylen.
It was still there.
My hands trembled. "Why didn't she tell me?"
He turned his face toward the open road, voice quieter now.
> "Because I wasn't safe. They tried to kill me when I was seven. She faked my death and hid me in the Network. I've been watching from the shadows ever since."
> "Why didn't she hide me too?"
> "She couldn't. She didn't have enough protection to disappear with both of us. So she picked the one carrying the code."
My heart cracked open.
She hadn't just protected me.
She'd sacrificed him to do it.
> "You knew about the Black File?"
> "I knew she encoded something into your DNA. I didn't know what until tonight. But the second you opened that drive… everyone else did too."
My stomach twisted.
> "Then they're coming for us."
> "They're already here."
We turned off the highway and onto a dirt road. The sky above us was turning a violent shade of violet-gray. Somewhere between night and storm.
Kylen glanced at me again.
> "You're not just carrying information, Rhea. You're carrying control. Blood-authorized access to Sector Nine. Full command keys. You're the last failsafe."
> "Failsafe for what?"
He hesitated.
Then finally said:
> "For the Dominion Protocol."
My throat went dry.
I had no idea what that meant.
But the way he said it?
Like it was the name of a god.
Or a bomb.
We arrived at a rundown farmhouse. The windows were blacked out. The door was reinforced steel. He tapped a rhythm on the frame, and it opened from the inside.
A woman stood there; tall, lean, scar across her temple.
She looked me up and down like she'd been waiting for me her entire life.
> "So the dead girl finally walks," she muttered. "Took you long enough."
> "Who the hell are you?" I asked.
> "Someone your mother trusted more than anyone. Call me Vexa."
Kylen nodded to her, then looked at me.
> "This is safehouse one. You've got about eight hours before your name lights up a kill list."
> "And then?"
> "Then you'll have to decide if you want to run your whole life…"
"…or fight like you were born for this.
He handed me a burner phone, a knife, and a file thicker than the last one.
> "Sleep if you can," he said. "Tomorrow we don't hide. Tomorrow, you start remembering."
But I didn't sleep.
I lay there in the dark.
Listening to the storm build outside, and the storm inside my chest.
For the first time, the pain wasn't just grief.
It was purpose.
And beneath it… a fury I didn't know I carried.
They wanted to use me.
Control me.
> They thought they knew what I was.
But they hadn't seen me yet.