The House was never meant to be quiet. Even in the deepest hours of the night, its glass-and-steel halls pulsed with muted voices, screens flashing like heartbeat monitors. But for Elias Kane—the new face of Emil Kade—the silence was an ally.
He had walked through the front door with forged credentials so perfect that the scanners sang green without hesitation. Every step since had been an education. He moved with purpose, a man no one noticed, blending into the hum of analysts and junior staff. And with every hallway, every secured door he passed, Emil learned the new layout of the House he once called home.
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The New Skin
The disguise was more than a name. His hair had been cut short, dyed a nondescript brown. His jawline softened with subtle prosthetics, the tired eyes replaced by unassuming, eager ones. He had spent months crafting this face. Not even Morgana would see him in it.
In his pocket, a badge with a fresh photo gave him access to Level 3. Not the heart of the House—but close enough.
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Observations
Every day for a week, Emil worked quietly as a systems technician, memorizing the routines. He mapped out shift changes, logged who lingered in the secure corridors after hours, and found the rhythm of the House.
From the break room, he could see the war room above—a sanctum of glass that only the highest clearances entered. He could almost feel Morgana there, pacing like a caged animal, still unaware that he was just beneath her feet.
He watched her once, from a distance. She walked alongside Callen, their heads bent together over a tablet. No sign of Adrian, not today. Her face was sharper, harder, since Marrakesh. Good, he thought. Let her sharpen. When the blade breaks, it breaks clean.
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Threads of the Mole
Emil didn't need to plant bugs. He didn't need to hack. He simply listened. The whispers of the other technicians told him everything: about Noor's stolen drives, about Morgana's public confrontation with the Director, about the lockdown procedures.
Most importantly, he heard about the hunt for the mole.
He smiled at that, unseen, as he rewired a panel. You're looking for me, he thought, while I'm already here.
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Morgana's War
Upstairs, Morgana was tearing into the agency's internal files like a scalpel. For days she'd barely slept, her hair tied up in a knot, eyes locked on lines of code and security logs.
Callen leaned against the doorframe of the analysis room. "You need rest," he said.
"What I need is to know how he's inside," she replied without looking up. "Noor's trace ends here, at HQ. Someone is moving like a ghost right under our noses."
"And you think it's Emil himself?"
"I think it's worse," she said. "I think it's someone Emil placed here, someone who can open any door without setting off alarms. If he's already in, we'll never see him until it's too late."
Her voice cracked on the last word. Callen stepped closer, his hand brushing her shoulder. "Then we find him together."
For a moment, the room was still. Morgana allowed herself a single breath of quiet before diving back into the files.
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Elias Kane Ascending
By the end of the second week, Emil—still Elias to everyone around him—had built a pattern. He was patient. Always patient.
He was summoned to a briefing on Level 4 for the first time. A small step upward, but it meant he was one step closer to the Director's inner circle.
In the elevator, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirrored walls. Elias Kane stared back: harmless, unremarkable. Behind the mask, Emil smiled. It had taken seven years, but he was finally back inside the House. This time, he wasn't here to serve it.
He was here to destroy it.
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The Final Shot of the Chapter
From the break room window, Morgana happened to glance down at the atrium as Emil walked across it. Her gaze lingered a fraction of a second, a faint flicker of instinct stirring at the sight of a stranger who felt almost familiar. Then she dismissed it and returned to her work.
But Emil had already seen her.
And he was smiling.