First Person – Iris's POV
The fluorescent lights flickered above her, casting pale ghosts across her father's sunken face. His eyes cracked open, bloodshot and distant. For a second, he didn't recognize her.
Then he rasped, "Ingrid…?"
Hearing the old name snapped something in Iris. Memories of her father's laughter, the smell of tobacco on his coat, the night he died or so she thought.
She swallowed the acid in her throat. "Dad… what did they do to you?"
He gripped her wrist, nails digging in. "It was never just the eight… there's more… your mother… she… betrayed us all…"
Iris heartbeat stuttered. Her mother? No. That couldn't be. She died with him. They told her she was innocent.
Ava hovered at the doorway, blade glinting. "Iris, we have to go. Now."
But she couldn't move. Her father was trembling, eyes wild. "They're coming… they're inside already… you have to run… before...."
Gunshots ripped through the glass walls. Alarms screamed. Red lights strobed.
Her father's voice cut off in a wet gurgle as blood bloomed on his chest.
She screamed, grabbing him, but Ava yanked her back just as a hail of bullets shredded the medical bed.
Ava dragged Iris through the smoke, her tears hot, rage bubbling up with every step. Her father's dying words echoed in my skull:
Your mother… betrayed us all…
She didn't know what was true anymore. But she knew one thing:
Someone would pay for this.