The word Astra division hung in the air like a toxin.
No one moved for a long moment. The only sound was the hum of Liam's servers, each screen still flickering with corrupted footage of the girl's stolen life.
Ethan forced himself to breathe. "What the hell is Astra Division?"
Liam pulled up another screen, fingers flying across the keyboard. "I've seen rumors. Black-budget project. Even deeper buried than Caligo. They don't just build weapons... they erase the ones who ask questions."
Maxwell's voice was a low growl. "Meaning they won't just want her back. They'll want us dead too."
The girl didn't flinch.
Harper folded her arms. "If Astra Division was pulling the strings behind Caligo, what else have they built?"
The girl looked down at her hands, as if the answer were written there. "They built others."
Silence.
Ethan leaned forward. "Others like you?"
She nodded. "I remember flashes. Faces. Some older than me. Some younger. But not all of them survived."
Maxwell's jaw tightened. "What happened to them?"
Her voice was almost too soft to hear. "They broke."
Harper glanced at Ethan. "If Astra's still out there, they could send another squad. Or worse."
Ethan turned to Liam. "Can we trace the video? Find out where it came from?"
Liam shook his head. "Not directly. Astra's good—paranoid-level good. But the data signature on the chip? It's recent. Someone wanted this to leak."
Ethan frowned. "You're saying this was planted?"
"Maybe," Liam said. "Or maybe someone inside Astra wants her free as badly as we do."
The girl stood up, blanket slipping from her shoulders. Her hospital gown, still damp at the edges, clung to her frame like a second skin.
Liam pulled up a map of the city, highlighting dead zones areas with no surveillance, no cell traffic, no electronic presence. "If Astra has a hidden facility, it'll be inside one of these."
Maxwell pointed at a cluster near the old industrial quarter. "That area's been dead for years."
Harper leaned in. "It's perfect for hiding something ugly."
Ethan nodded. "We start there."
The girl's voice cut through the room, calm and certain. "I can help."
They turned to her.
"I don't just remember faces," she said. "I feel... echoes. Places they kept me. I might recognize something if we get close."
Maxwell snorted. "Or you'll light up like a beacon and draw every spook in a hundred-mile radius."
"She's our only lead," Ethan said firmly. "We take the risk."
Harper grabbed her gear. "Then we move fast.
Liam transferred maps onto portable drives. "I'll monitor from here. If you go dark, I'll trigger contingency protocols."
"Contingency protocols?" Harper asked.
"Meaning I burn this place down before they can use it," Liam said grimly.
The girl didn't react. She simply picked up the jacket Harper offered her,too big for her frame, but it covered the worst of the hospital gown and pulled it tight.
Ethan opened the hatch. The rain had eased to a drizzle, but the night smelled of oil and ozone, like the storm had just been a warning.
They climbed back into the van.
This time, no one hesitated.
The city was different after the rain.
Lights reflected off puddles, bending familiar streets into broken mirrors. They stayed off the main roads, cutting through alleys and service lanes, shadows swallowing them whole.
The girl sat between Ethan and Harper, silent but alert. Her fingers tapped against her knee in an unconscious rhythm. Counting? Timing?
"Left, up here," she said suddenly.
Harper obeyed without question.
They plunged deeper into the industrial quarter,abandoned factories, crumbling warehouses, skeletal loading docks. The air grew colder, thicker, as if even the wind knew not to linger here.
"There," the girl said, pointing.
An old textile plant loomed ahead. The windows were shattered, walls tagged with graffiti. But there were no squatters. No fires. No noise.
Too quiet.
Ethan motioned for them to stop two blocks away.
They moved on foot, Harper and Maxwell flanking the girl, Ethan taking point.
The entrance was chained, but the lock had been recently cut. Clean slice. Someone had been here.
They slipped inside.
The interior smelled of rust and mold. Long-forgotten machines sat under tarps, their shapes warped and hunched. Water dripped somewhere, echoing through the cavernous space.
"This way," the girl whispered.
They followed her through the maze of broken equipment, deeper into the factory's belly. Every step seemed to throb against the walls.
Then she stopped.
Ethan saw it too: a freight elevator at the back, its doors half-open. A service panel beside it, blinking faintly.
Power.
Maxwell swore under his breath. "Someone's keeping this place alive."
Harper raised her weapon. "Trap?"
"Probably," Ethan said.
The girl pressed her hand against the elevator door.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then she flinched, pulling back like she'd been burned.
"They're down there," she said. "Waiting."
Maxwell's grip tightened on his rifle. "How many?"
Her face was pale. "I don't know.
Harper glanced at Ethan. "Orders?"
He looked at the girl. "Can you shut down whatever's feeding them power?"
She nodded shakily. "If I get close enough."
Ethan checked his sidearm. "Then we go down."
Harper slid a fresh magazine into her weapon. "I hate elevators."
Maxwell cracked his neck. "I hate surprises."
The girl stepped onto the platform first.
Ethan followed.
As the elevator shuddered to life, carrying them into the unknown, he realized something terrifying:
They weren't just fighting a system anymore.
They were about to face what that system had birthed.