<i>Jace''s POV</i>


    My semi-translucent fingers hovered over the scattered files, each one floating weightlessly in front of me. I scrolled through them carefully, conscious of every tap and swipe. One wrong move, and I might trigger something I wasn’t ready for.


    “You’re running out of time,” a familiar voice echoed in my head. Urgent, insistent.


    “Hasten up!”


    I exhaled sharply. “Well, your nagging isn’t helping.”


    I hoped she heard me, though I doubted it made a difference. For one thing, she wasn’t wrong—I was running out of time. The problem was, I hadn’t gotten anywhere useful. Nothing substantial. Nothing relevant. The more I searched, the more hopeless it all seemed. Frustration burned inside me. I wasn’t just out of time in here—I was out of time out there too. My success in retrieving these files dictated how soon I could regain my freedom. And at this rate? I wasn’t going to see the sunlight anytime soon.


    “I’m pulling you out,” the voice announced, firm and decisive.


    “Don’t!” I yelled in desperation. “Just give me one more minute!”


    I hastened my search, but there was only so much speed I could push without consequences. Too fast, and I’d fry my own brain. Too slow, and I’d run out of time. Either way, I was walking a razor’s edge.


    “Stop! You’re rushing it!” The voice now carried absolute concern.


    A sudden jolt shot through my entire body, like a thousand volts of electricity surging through my nerves. My head snapped back, my vision darkened. For a few terrifying moments, the world around me ceased to exist. Then, slowly, the haze lifted. My sight returned, though blurred. My ears rang, muffling the worried voices surrounding me. My body felt numb, sluggish. Silhouettes loomed nearby, their mouths moving, but the words were lost in the fog clouding my senses.


    I reached out, fingers curling around the cool surface of a glass. I took a small sip of No.4’s latest attempt at making lemonade. It wasn’t as bad as her previous attempts. Either she was getting better at it, or my taste buds were simply giving up.


    “How is it?” No.4 asked, her tone bordering on concern.


    I rubbed my temples, my head still throbbing. “Well, my head feels like—”


    “The lemonade,” she interrupted, narrowing her artificial eyes.


    I smirked. “Oh. I wouldn’t say it’s entirely bad—I wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings.” I downed the last of it. “Not like you have any to begin with.”


    She sighed, as if expecting my usual sarcasm. Wordlessly, she removed her white apron, revealing a simple navy-blue gown that reached just below her knees. Her slippers matched the outfit perfectly—No.4 always had an eye for coordination, a detail that sometimes made me forget she wasn’t human.


    “You know you shouldn’t rush it,” she said, picking up a syringe from the tray beside her. “It’ll only kill you.”


    I scoffed. “If I don’t rush it, I’m as good as dead either way.”


    “No,” she corrected, gently injecting the syringe into my arm. “He only said you’d be kept under supervision.”


    “As a lab rat,” I muttered.


    “As an asset,” she corrected sternly.


    With practiced ease, she withdrew the syringe and placed it back on the tray.


    “We’re all assets,” she added, her voice devoid of emotion. “Everyone in this city belongs to someone. Whether it’s a corporation or the government, there’s no real difference.”


    “Out there, I can live how I want,” I said, leaning back on the reclining bed. I moved slowly, careful not to aggravate my headache. “Go wherever I want.”


    No.4 said nothing. She simply smirked and walked toward the door, tray in hand. But she didn’t leave immediately. She paused at the threshold, hesitating. I knew that hesitation well—she always did this, as if she had something to say but couldn’t quite bring herself to voice it. Then, just like before, she turned and left.


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    Despite her flawless human mimicry—her sense of humor, her preference in music, the way she hesitated—I had to remind myself: No.4 was not human.


    Living in this confined space should have felt like a dream. I had everything—unlimited food, entertainment at my fingertips, and even the occasional sexy nurse in a ridiculously short uniform checking up on me. But the reality was suffocating. Every moment of my life was monitored. They saw everything. When I ate. When I showered. When I... handled my loneliness. No privacy. No control. And on top of that, the entire room was painted a stark, lifeless white, matching the sweatshirt, pants, and shoes they gave me. It was a prison. A lab. And I was the test subject.


    Every three days, they jacked me back in. Another dive, another search for whatever it was they wanted. To make that possible, they surgically implanted a hardware connector in me. A personal jack-in port. Sure, having a built-in interface with HUD displays was cool, but I hated knowing there was something unnatural lodged inside my body.


    I lay back, staring at the white ceiling, trying to force myself to sleep. It wasn’t working. My new augmented vision meant I saw everything—every sensor, every scan, every silent component keeping this cell operational.


    I was running out of options.


    The last time I spoke to the man in the suit, he made a deal: retrieve the data, and I walk free. I didn’t trust him, not entirely. But it was the only deal on the table. I had a life out there. A family. A girlfriend who deserved an explanation. I had to get out.


    I closed my eyes. This time, sleep came swiftly.


    I stood before a man dressed in white. A prisoner, like me. For a moment, I thought he was me, but his face was different. Deep, dark circles lay beneath his eyes—he looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His breaths were heavy, frantic, as if he’d been running. But he had nowhere to go.


    I reached out to touch him. My hands didn’t respond.


    I tried again. Nothing.


    Panic set in. I could see everything happening in real-time, yet I couldn’t interact with any of it.


    I tried to speak. Shout. Nothing came out.


    Then I saw it.


    A shadow moved behind the man. Its form was indistinct, shifting, unnatural. The dim light barely illuminated its presence, but every instinct in me screamed that it was something terrible.


    I tried again to warn the man. He didn’t need my warning—he already knew. His eyes were wide with terror, his lips muttering something under his breath. Prayers.


    At first, it seemed to be working. The darkness hesitated.


    Then it advanced.


    The shadow consumed him.


    A scream tore through the air. No—not a scream. A shriek. Loud, piercing, inhuman. It wasn’t just fear—it was agony, despair, a sound that didn’t belong in this world.


    I jerked awake, my body drenched in sweat.


    My HUD flickered, displaying warnings of elevated heart rate and fatigue. A recommendation: Rest.


    I ignored it.


    I glanced around. The corner of my room looked... familiar. Too familiar.


    A chill ran down my spine.


    I had seen this place before.


    In my nightmare.


    This dream—I’d had it too many times to count. And every time, it felt new. The fear was fresh, like déjà vu in its worst form.


    I exhaled slowly, willing my nerves to settle.


    The doctors should have noticed my vitals spiking by now. Any moment, they’d come in with their clipboard, asking if I felt any different. If I had noticed any changes.


    I already knew what I’d say.


    “No, I’m good.”


    It was a lie. But I wasn’t about to give them more reasons to keep me trapped in here.