The tunnel didn't feel underground.
That was the unsettling part.
Adrian had expected the claustrophobia of concrete pressing inward, the sense of being buried beneath the city. Instead, the space felt open in a way that suggested intention—like someone had carved out a place that wasn't meant to be found, but was meant to be used.
Lights hummed overhead, evenly spaced, industrial but warm. Power ran through the walls with the quiet confidence of something well-funded and well-hidden.
The woman stood a few steps away, hands clasped loosely behind her back, posture relaxed. She wasn't armed in any visible way. That alone made her more dangerous than Victor Hale had ever been.
"You're quiet," she said.
Adrian kept his eyes on her. "I'm listening."
She smiled faintly. "Good. Most people mistake silence for weakness."
"I don't."
"That's why you're here."
Adrian glanced briefly to either side. The other two figures hadn't moved since he arrived. They weren't guards—not exactly. They felt more like witnesses.
"Before this goes any further," Adrian said, "I want clarity."
The woman inclined her head slightly. "Ask."
"You took Daniel Cross," Adrian said. His voice was steady, but something dark churned beneath it. "You didn't need to."
"No," she agreed. "We didn't."
"Then why?"
Her smile faded—not into guilt, but into something more analytical.
"Because Victor Hale asked us to neutralize a network," she said. "Not a person. Networks are fragile. Remove the wrong node and the entire structure collapses."
Adrian's jaw tightened.
"He had a stroke."
"Yes."
"You broke him."
She didn't deny it. "We stressed him."
The distinction was meaningless.
Adrian felt the system stir again, more violently this time, like an animal pressed into a corner.
[WARNING: Emotional interference detected.]
He ignored it.
"You didn't just remove leverage," Adrian said. "You sent a message."
She nodded. "To you."
"And the message was?"
"That escalation has a cost," she said simply. "And that you weren't the only one capable of choosing who pays it."
Adrian exhaled slowly.
"So what now?" he asked. "You kill me? Recruit me? Watch me?"
She studied him for a long moment, then gestured toward a metal table set against the wall. On it sat a small device—unremarkable. Matte black. No markings.
"Now," she said, "we test loyalty."
The system flared the moment Adrian's eyes landed on the device.
[UNIDENTIFIED TECHNOLOGY DETECTED.]
[Threat ASSESSMENT: UNKNOWN.]
"What is that?" Adrian asked.
"A problem," she replied. "For you."
Adrian didn't move. "Explain."
She stepped aside and nodded to one of the figures behind her. A man moved forward and placed a tablet on the table beside the device.
The screen lit up.
Maya Lin's face filled the display.
Alive.
Bruised. Exhausted. Sitting in what looked like a small concrete room, hands folded tightly in her lap.
Adrian's breath caught.
"Maya," he whispered before he could stop himself.
The woman watched him closely.
"She was more resilient than Daniel," she said. "Smarter too. We decided to keep her intact."
"For what?" Adrian demanded.
"For leverage," she said calmly. "Everything is leverage. Even loyalty."
Adrian's hands curled slowly into fists.
"What do you want?" he asked again, more sharply this time.
She tapped the device on the table.
"That," she said, "is a localized system disruptor."
The words hit like ice.
Adrian felt the interface flicker.
[WARNING: External interference escalating.]
"It doesn't destroy your system," she continued. "It isolates it. Cuts it off from you for approximately six minutes."
Adrian's heart rate spiked.
"You want to take it away," he said.
"We want to see who you are without it."
"And Maya?"
Her gaze didn't waver.
"If you activate the device," she said, "we release her. Immediately. No games."
"And if I don't?"
The woman tilted her head slightly.
"Then Victor Hale gets her next," she replied. "And he's not interested in restraint."
Adrian stared at the screen.
Maya looked thinner than he remembered. Older. But her eyes were still sharp. Still aware.
She met his gaze through the camera.
And shook her head.
"No," she mouthed.
Adrian swallowed.
The system pulsed violently now, its presence erratic.
[CRITICAL WARNING.]
[System separation may result in permanent Authority loss.]
"How permanent?" Adrian asked quietly.
The interface hesitated.
[Probability of irreversible degradation: 63%.]
"So if I do this," Adrian said, "I might never be the same."
[Correct.]
He looked back at the woman.
"You're asking me to cripple myself," he said.
She smiled faintly. "I'm asking you to prove you're more than a tool."
Adrian laughed softly.
"That's ironic."
She raised an eyebrow. "Is it?"
"You don't want me human," Adrian said. "You want me controllable."
Her smile widened slightly.
"We want you predictable," she corrected. "Human is unpredictable. Systems are predictable."
The words settled heavily.
Adrian looked again at Maya's image.
She shook her head again, more urgently now.
"No," she mouthed. "Don't."
Adrian closed his eyes.
Victor Hale stood alone in his office, city lights glittering below.
He felt the shift before he understood it.
Something had changed in the air—pressure releasing somewhere beyond his sight.
His phone rang.
He answered immediately.
"Report," he said.
The voice on the other end was tense.
"They've made contact."
Victor's lips curved slightly.
"Good," he said. "And?"
"There's a complication."
Victor frowned. "Define."
"They're testing him."
Victor's smile faded.
"Testing how?"
A pause.
"By removing his advantage."
Victor's fingers tightened around the phone.
"That's a mistake," he said.
"Yes," the voice replied. "But it's not ours to correct."
Victor stared out at the city.
For the first time, he wasn't certain who he wanted to lose.
Adrian opened his eyes.
He felt the weight of the choice settle fully now—not abstract, not philosophical.
If he refused, Maya would suffer.
If he accepted, the system—the very thing that allowed him to fight—might never fully return.
And beneath that was a more terrifying question:
Who was he without it?
"You don't need to do this," Adrian said quietly, more to himself than to anyone else.
The woman nodded. "No. You don't."
Maya stared at him through the screen, eyes burning.
"You already did enough," she said hoarsely. "Don't do this too."
Adrian stepped forward.
The system screamed.
[FINAL WARNING.]
He placed his hand on the device.
Cold metal. Solid. Real.
"This doesn't make me loyal to you," Adrian said to the woman.
She met his gaze evenly. "It makes you valuable."
Adrian activated the device.
The world went silent.
Not quiet—absent.
The interface vanished instantly, like a light switched off inside his skull. The subtle awareness, the constant calculation, the presence that had become second nature—all of it was gone.
Adrian staggered.
Pain exploded behind his eyes, sharp and disorienting. He dropped to one knee, gasping as nausea rolled through him.
For the first time since the system had entered his life, Adrian was alone inside his own head.
No prompts.
No warnings.
No Authority.
Just him.
He felt smaller.
Weaker.
Human.
The woman watched closely, eyes sharp.
"Interesting," she murmured.
Maya screamed.
Not in pain—but in panic.
The screen shook violently.
"No—wait—stop—"
The feed cut out.
Adrian's head snapped up.
"You said you'd release her," he growled.
"We are," the woman replied calmly.
The lights flickered.
Footsteps echoed somewhere down the tunnel.
Then a gunshot rang out.
Single. Sharp. Final.
Adrian froze.
The woman exhaled softly.
"Ah," she said. "Timing issue."
Adrian stared at her, horror and fury crashing together.
"What did you do?" he demanded.
She frowned slightly.
"Victor moved faster than expected," she said. "He intercepted the transfer."
Adrian's vision blurred.
"Is she—"
"Dead," the woman said simply.
The word hit harder than anything before it.
Dead.
Maya Lin—gone.
Because Adrian had hesitated once.
Because he'd believed negotiation could exist without blood.
He let out a sound that wasn't a scream, wasn't a sob—something raw and broken that tore out of his chest.
The woman watched him carefully.
"This," she said softly, "is the cost of divided loyalty."
Adrian looked up at her slowly.
Something in his eyes had changed.
Not rage.
Not grief.
Resolution.
"You wanted to see who I was without the system," Adrian said quietly.
She nodded.
"I've seen enough," she replied.
Adrian rose unsteadily to his feet.
"And now you'll see who I am with it," he said.
The device on the table sparked suddenly.
The lights flared.
The system slammed back into place like a blade locking into bone.
[SYSTEM RESTORATION COMPLETE.]
[AUTHORITY RESTRUCTURED.]
[NEW STATUS: IRREVERSIBLE PATH CONFIRMED.]
Adrian stood tall.
Different.
Colder.
"You took someone from me," he said evenly. "And Victor finished it."
The woman smiled slowly.
"Good," she said. "Then you understand."
Adrian's gaze hardened.
"There will be no more tests," he said. "No more leverage."
He stepped closer.
"From now on," Adrian continued, "anyone who touches what's mine doesn't get redirected."
The system pulsed, dark and steady.
"They get erased."