The morning after was far from peaceful.
Amelia woke to the low hum of static—an odd, pulsing sound that didn't come from the walls or Dominic's laptop. It came from inside her.
She sat up too fast. The sheets slipped off her bare skin as she pressed her palm to her temple.
Buzzing. Clawing. Like something dormant had been shaken awake.
Dominic stirred beside her. His hand reached for the spot where she'd been seconds ago. When he found nothing, he opened his eyes. Alert. Watching.
"You okay?" he asked, voice laced with sleep but not softness.
Amelia turned to him, one hand still pressed to her temple. "There's something wrong."
He was up in a flash, pulling on his pants, grabbing the med kit from his duffel.
"I'm not hurt," she said. "It's not physical.
It's… inside."
Dominic froze.
"The memory?"
She nodded.
He knelt in front of her, eyes scanning hers.
"Tell me exactly what it feels like."
"Like a siren. But it's not sound. It's a pull. Like something in my brain is being dragged out into the light."
Dominic's jaw tightened.
"You said the words Project Nocturne last night," he said. "What if that wasn't just a memory? What if it was a trigger phrase?"
Amelia's eyes widened. "You think someone implanted that?"
"I think your father and Dr. Zahir were experimenting with neural conditioning. What if they didn't just want you to forget—what if they trained your mind to protect the truth until it was safe to reveal it?"
"And now it's… leaking out."
"No. Someone turned it on."
Her heart skipped.
"Why now?"
Dominic didn't answer.
Because the answer was clear:
Someone wanted her memories back online. And they wanted it now.
They left the motel in silence, driving toward a small cybercafé in the next village. Dominic needed a secure signal and whatever firewalls he could build on short notice.
Amelia sat in the passenger seat, knees drawn to her chest, staring out the window.
The buzzing hadn't stopped. In fact, it was getting worse.
They passed a vineyard. The early sun slanted over rows of dark grapes, untouched by tourists. It looked peaceful. But inside her head, a storm was building.
"Dominic," she said, clutching the seatbelt. "If I remember everything… what if I change?"
He didn't glance over.
"You will change," he said. "But that doesn't mean you'll become someone else."
She wanted to believe him. But fear wasn't a logical thing. It clawed at her—fear that when the truth surfaced, she wouldn't be Amelia anymore. She'd be Subject 12.
The café was empty. Just an old woman behind the counter and two young boys arguing over a chessboard in the corner.
Dominic paid in cash and set up in a dark booth. Amelia sipped bitter tea, her mind barely in the room.
He was already hacking through multiple encrypted servers when she felt it.
A jolt.
Like a bolt of electricity running from the base of her skull down her spine.
She gasped. Dropped the cup. Tea splattered across the table.
"Amelia?"
He was by her side in seconds.
"I see it," she whispered, eyes wide. "The room. The lab. My father shouting. And fire… so much fire."
Dominic held her face. "Tell me what you see."
"Zahir. He's holding a tablet. He says something in Arabic. The door seals. They won't let me out. My father is outside, and he's watching me scream—"
Her body convulsed.
Dominic held her tighter.
"Amelia. Focus on now. On me. Look at me!"
She gasped and snapped back, eyes flicking wildly before locking onto his.
He had never looked more terrified.
Or more human.
"I think… I think I killed someone," she said, voice trembling.
Dominic shook his head. "No. They used you. Whatever you did, it wasn't your choice."
"I need to know," she whispered. "I need the rest."
He stared at her.
And then nodded.
"We'll go to Zurich," he said. "That's where Zahir disappeared ten years ago. And if your father knew what was coming, it'll be there—in the safehouse."
She blinked. "You still have a key?"
"Not just a key," he said grimly. "I have the code. And if the memories don't come, the truth is buried in that house."
They crossed into Switzerland under heavy cloud cover.
No music. No words.
The car was filled with the scent of old leather, gunpowder, and unspoken fear.
At one point, Amelia touched his thigh.
Not for sex. Not for dominance.
Just to feel something real.
He took her hand and squeezed it.
And for a moment, the war around them quieted.
The Zurich safehouse was an old stone manor tucked into the hills.
Abandoned. Cold. But untouched.
Dominic keyed in a string of digits. The door opened with a soft click.
Inside: silence.
And then—a chime.
Soft. Musical.
And her mind exploded.
She screamed and collapsed.
Dominic caught her as her body convulsed again, but this time, her eyes remained open.
"I see everything," she whispered.
Her voice didn't sound like her own.
"There was a second lab. Underground. In Cyprus. I was trained there. Not just to survive, but to manipulate. To seduce. To kill."
Dominic froze.
"You were just a child," he said.
She shook her head.
"I liked it," she whispered. "That's the worst part. They made me like it."
"No. They made you believe you had to."
She met his gaze.
And something shifted.
The fire behind her eyes wasn't just pain. It was something far more dangerous.
Resolve.
"I'm not hiding anymore," she said. "I'm not a broken memory. I'm not a victim. I'm the one who lived through it. And now—"
She picked up a hidden hard drive from the fireplace, something her fragmented memory had led her to.
"I'm going to burn them down."