The lights in the corridor still flickered where Specter had disappeared. The air hadn't recovered its balance. Lana could still feel the echo of the fight in her skin, in her blood—like a static charge under her nails.
She didn't return to bed. Instead, she sat in the surveillance room outside the sister cell quarters, reviewing feeds, alert markers, anything Specter might've hacked or triggered. But the cameras were clean.
Too clean.
Specter had known where to move. What vents to drop into. Which blind spots not even Noctis knew it had.
Jason appeared around dawn, blinking sleep from his eyes, holding two coffees and an expression that asked a dozen unspoken questions.
"Was it real?" he asked.
"She's real," Lana said. "And she's watching us."
The next morning, Lana was summoned.
Kraven's message arrived in a tone that read as neutral, but only just: Mr. Noire requests your presence in the Crimson Boardroom. 9:00 sharp. Business formal.
She wore the only thing that made sense—an ivory blouse, sleeves rolled, throat bare. No scent. No jewelry. A warning and an invitation.
The Crimson Boardroom was named for its walls: matte blood-red panels, no windows. The only light came from a single copper pendant lamp over the obsidian table. Twelve high-backed chairs. Eleven were empty.
Kieran sat at the head.
And beside him—
Lysander Vex.
His white suit was immaculate. No tie. His scar exposed beneath a silver lapel pin shaped like a coiled serpent. He stood as Lana entered and gestured gallantly.
"Miss Carter," he said. "Or should I say—LC-01?"
She didn't react. Not outwardly.
"Take your seat," Kieran said. Not asked. Said.
She did.
"Let's skip the preliminaries," Lysander offered. "You know who I am. I know what you are. The question is whether our goals align."
"I doubt they do."
He smiled. "You might be surprised."
He placed a file folder on the table. Heavy. Handwritten tabs. She reached for it—Kieran didn't stop her.
Inside: documents stamped with the Vanir Genetics logo.
"Your mother's original funders," Lysander said. "The ones who paid to make you."
Lana's fingers stilled.
He continued. "Project: Second Eve was never about protecting the pack. It was about surpassing it. Evolution by design. Not by nature."
He turned a page. Showed her:
A gene map. Lana's sequence.
A table of sister designations: LC-02 through LC-07.
Columns labeled: Aggression, Cognitive Stability, Shift Tolerance, Reproductive Viability.
"You were always the goal," he said. "The sisters were iterations. Control variables. Specter was the outlier. We thought she burned out. She didn't. That's… inconvenient."
Lana closed the folder. "Why show me this now?"
Kieran answered. "Because Noctis is about to merge with Vanir."
She turned sharply.
Kieran's voice was cold. "The board has voted. We're out of time. Lysander gets his research. We get his control of North American hybrids. Everyone wins."
"Except me," Lana said.
Lysander leaned in. "Not true. You get recognition. Position. Security for your sisters."
He tapped the folder.
"And a seat at the table."
"You want me to support this."
"I want you to inherit it," Lysander said.
That night, Lana locked herself in her quarters. The sisters were restless in the adjacent wing. Maris paced. Ember twitched in her sleep. Silk scratched something invisible into the walls.
Lana opened Evelyn's journal again. Skipped the entries she'd memorized. Found one dated six months before her mother's death:
"They've accelerated the breeding protocols. Specter responded too well—she doesn't bond, doesn't sleep, doesn't break. I think she hears them in the walls. If Lana ever finds this journal, she'll know what that means."
Below it, a diagram.
Seven circles.
One circled in red.
LC-01: Lana. Carried full-term. Removed pre-bonding.
The rest were tagged:
LC-02: Maris. Stability = high. Failed empathy.
LC-03: Ember. High aggression. Fragile psychosis.
LC-04: Silk. Failed regeneration.
LC-05: Hollow. Deceased.
LC-06: Specter. Classified: UNKNOWN. Presumed terminated.
LC-07: Null Sample.
Lana's pulse thundered.
There were only supposed to be six sisters.
What was LC-07?
She turned the page.
It was blank.
The next morning, Kraven entered the sister quarters with two guards and a silver briefcase.
She held it like a threat.
"Time to prepare for the merger announcement," Kraven said. "Your presence is required on stage."
"Why me?" Lana asked.
Kraven smiled without humor. "You're the asset. You seal the deal."
Lana stood, still barefoot. Her claws ached to shift.
"What's in the case?"
Kraven opened it.
Inside: a white ceremonial collar with platinum threading. Noctis insignia. A symbol of dominion.
"It's traditional for queens," Kraven said. "Before the first merger, they dressed the Alpha's chosen in white."
Lana didn't move.
Kraven extended it.
"Put it on."
Lana took it slowly. Studied the stitching.
Blood. Woven into the trim.
Old blood.
She lifted it to her throat—
Then paused.
"No."
Kraven blinked.
Lana dropped the collar into the case.
"I don't wear leashes."
Then she turned and walked back into the sister cell chamber.
Behind her, the sisters stood.
All five.
Watching.
Waiting.
Lana's voice was low.
"Get ready. We're going to the gala."
Maris tilted her head. "Weapons?"
Lana smiled without showing teeth.
"No. Just claws."
They followed her in silence, like the wind behind a rising storm. They moved not as individuals, but as limbs of something newly formed, a creature still discovering its name. Even Jason, watching from the mezzanine, flinched at the sight of them.
On the elevator down, Lana stared at her reflection. Not into it. Her pulse was calm. Too calm. Something beneath the skin hummed.
Maris stood beside her. "We won't behave at the party."
"You're not supposed to," Lana replied.
In the lobby, the gala was already underway. Champagne. Suits. Cameras. The press had been tipped off—of course they had. Lysander liked drama. Kieran tolerated it. Kraven orchestrated it.
As Lana and her sisters crossed the floor, the crowd parted.
Someone whispered, "The hybrids."
Another: "The original?"
She heard them. Every word.
Kraven appeared, mouth tight, flanked by security. "This wasn't part of the visual plan."
"It is now," Lana said.
She ascended the stage. The lights seared. The microphone hissed.
Kieran waited. Lysander, beside him, already smiling.
He extended a hand.
"Shall we begin?"
Lana didn't take it.
Instead, she leaned into the mic.
"I'm not here to bless this merger," she said.
Gasps. One champagne glass shattered. Kraven took a step forward—then stopped.
Lana turned slightly. Behind her, Maris bared her teeth. Silk flexed her claws. Ember's eyes glowed.
"I'm here to remind you," Lana continued, "what was done to make it possible. What was sacrificed. And what will never be forgotten."
She pulled Evelyn's journal from her coat and held it high.
"This is the ledger of sins. And the ledger is still open."
She walked off the stage before anyone could move.
Behind her, the crowd erupted.
And above them all, Specter smiled in the rafters.