Ava's POV
I never expected his name to show up on the list.
Erik Vale.
My brother. My ghost. My lie.
The morning after our escape from Facility Black was cold, almost cruel. Fog hung low over the treetops as we camped in a hollowed ravine, far from roads or towns. Iris sharpened her blade in silence. Jonas sat by the fireless pit, chewing on a protein bar like it was made of dust. I hadn't slept. The name on the cracked tablet glared at me like a wound.
Genevieve told me he died. She told me I was the only one who made it out of the house that night. But if Erik was alive—and if his name was listed under Project Hades—that meant she hadn't just lied.
She'd stolen him.
"He's at a facility called the Hollow," Jonas said, thumbing through recovered files. "Off-grid. Shielded. Experimental base. I pulled the coordinates."
I stared at the flickering screen. Coordinates meant one thing: we had a shot. I could find him.
Or what was left of him.
"Iris," I said, gripping my jacket. "Gear up. We leave before sunrise."
She met my eyes and nodded. "This is personal now, isn't it?"
I didn't answer. Because it was.
The Hollow sat like a scar in the forest, half-buried beneath twisted trees and decaying walls. Moss grew over broken watchtowers. The metal gates were rusted and bent inward like something tried to claw its way out instead of in.
We moved quietly, slipping through the shadows. There were no guards. No drones. Just the sound of wind hissing through the skeletal trees.
We found the entrance a hatch hidden beneath collapsed fencing and climbed down.
The stench hit first. Rot. Chemicals. Desperation.
The hallway lights flickered weakly, casting ghostly shapes onto the damp floor. We passed shattered observation rooms, dried blood smeared across windows, surgical tools scattered like abandoned toys. Whatever the Hollow had been, it was long dead.
But someone was still here.
A door at the far end slid open with a hiss. And he stepped through.
Erik.
Older. Taller. Dressed in black combat gear. His expression was blank, but his eyes cold, unreadable were the same ones I remembered from our childhood.
Except they didn't recognize me.
"I hoped you'd come," he said, voice hollow.
I couldn't speak.
He tilted his head, studying me like I was a relic. "You're real. Not just a memory."
"Erik," I whispered.
"You shouldn't be here," he said.
Jonas stepped forward. "We came to help you..."
But Erik raised a hand.
The walls buzzed. Lights surged. Steel doors slammed shut behind us.
Trapped.
Iris drew her blade, eyes locked on him. "What is this?"
"I'm not the one who needs saving," Erik said. "You are."
And then everything went dark.
To be continued...