Secure Broadcast Location – 5:44 a.m.
The footage was ready. Juliana stood in front of a dark velvet backdrop, face shadowed, voice steady.
No disguises. No aliases. Not anymore.
Nael sat at the terminal, fingers flying across the keys as he prepared the livestream for every black market stream, hacker forum, and dark agency node across the world.
Juliana's image flickered onscreen. She began to speak.
"This is for anyone still pretending the Syndicate doesn't exist. For every billionaire, politician, and puppet hiding behind its money."
"They didn't just build weapons. They built people."
She stepped aside. Behind her, a massive projection played. The footage of Subject 10.
Fighting. Killing. Speaking. The words Queen vs Queen in blood.
"They cloned me," Juliana said. "Used my DNA. My trauma. My childhood."
"And when they were done with me, they tried again."
She let that hang.
"I'm not your ghost story anymore. I'm not your weapon."
She leaned into the lens.
"I'm your reckoning."
Nael ended the feed.
"It's done. It's everywhere."
Juliana turned away from the camera and whispered, "Let the world choose a side."
6:27 a.m. – Valebrook Financial District
The fallout was immediate.
Private military groups began recalling assets. Syndicate-friendly senators quietly deleted tweets and filed for "emergency travel."
But the real reaction came from the boardroom on the 98th floor of the Thorne Tower, where Harlan Thorne, billionaire tycoon and silent funder of the Black Rose program, poured himself a glass of scotch.
"She's louder than I expected," he said, voice even.
His advisor trembled slightly. "Sir, she's just exposed Subject 10. We'll lose plausible deniability—"
"We never had it," Thorne said. "Not since we let the first girl live."
He downed the scotch and walked to the wall-sized monitor.
Juliana's face stared back at him from the paused footage. He smiled faintly.
"Put the bounty on her."
"How much?"
"Five million. Dead only."
"Understood."
He turned once more before walking out.
"Tell the world: Juliana Black bleeds just like the rest of us."
______
7:44 a.m. – Safehouse, Lower East Valebrook
Juliana sat on the edge of a metal cot, taping up her knuckles. The adrenaline from the broadcast hadn't worn off. Her jaw was locked. Her ribs still bruised from the fight with Subject 10.
Nael slid into the room, tablet in hand.
"It's official," he said. "You're viral."
"I'm not trying to trend."
"Too late. Half the dark web thinks you're a hero. The other half thinks you're a bounty."
She looked up.
"Bounty?"
Nael turned the screen toward her.
$5 million. DEAD.
TARGET: JULIANA BLACK.
Her face, frozen in mid-blink.
"They want to make an example," Echo said from the doorway. "To prove you're mortal."
Juliana exhaled slowly. "Then we prove I'm not."
_____
9:05 a.m. – On the Move
They split into three teams.
Juliana and Echo would draw out bounty hunters. Nael stayed behind to monitor chatter and track the bounty's source. Their plan: bait a kill team, capture one, and interrogate.
The streets buzzed louder now. Syndicate eyes in every camera. Every screen.
Juliana walked openly through Midtown. Leather jacket, hoodie, no disguise.
She could feel the weight of eyes on her like heat.
"You think this will work?" Echo murmured beside her.
"I'm counting on it."
The first bullet missed her by half an inch.
_____
9:07 a.m. – Ambush
Juliana dove behind a newsstand as gunfire erupted across the street. Echo rolled behind a parked truck, sniper rifle in hand.
"Five shooters," Echo called. "Military-grade loadouts. Paid well."
"We take two alive."
Juliana popped up and returned fire — two perfect headshots. The first bounty hunter dropped like deadweight. The second screamed as his leg exploded.
Juliana sprinted across the street, dodging rounds. She tackled the wounded one, pinned him down, shoved her blade against his carotid.
"Talk."
He coughed blood. "Thorne sent us."
"Where?"
"Tower. Ninety-eighth floor. He's running the next version —"
A shot rang out. His head exploded.
Juliana ducked, covered in blood.
"Sniper! North roof!" Echo yelled.
They moved fast. They didn't look back.
_____
10:22 a.m. – Underground Rail Yard
Juliana stood under the massive concrete arches of an abandoned rail yard, fingers twitching.
"Thorne's behind it," she muttered. "He funded Black Rose. Nicholas worked under him. He's next."
Nael called in.
"Jules. You're not gonna believe this…"
"What?"
"There's a live feed trending. Someone leaked your old kill footage — Malaysia. First mission."
"That footage was erased."
"Not by me."
Juliana grabbed the burner. Watched.
Her sixteen-year-old self stared back.
Blood-splattered. Crying. And beside her —
Damian. Alive. Younger. Holding her hand.
______
She nearly dropped the phone.
"Damian…" she whispered.
Echo turned. "What?"
"He was there. He knew. He trained me. Even back then."
Nael said quietly, "That footage had to come from the Thorne archive. Which means…"
"He's alive," Juliana said.
"Or they want you to think he is."
Juliana's hands shook for the first time in hours.
"Then I'm going to Thorne Tower. Right now."
"Alone?" Echo snapped.
"This started with me. It ends with me."
_______
11:55 a.m. – Outside Thorne Tower
Juliana stood across the street.
Black gloves. Long coat. Twin pistols. Mask in hand. Five million dollars on her head — and every second felt like it. But none of it mattered. Because inside that tower… were two things
: The man who funded her nightmare. And maybe — just maybe — The only man she ever trusted. Still alive.