Dot found the room empty… or almost.

  The simulator was on — the only source of light in the space — its glow pulsing as tactical data shifted and reassembled in constant motion. Fragments from the last training session she and Ghost had run together still flickered in the system’s memory, but the parameters had been altered. Increased field pressure. Reduced margin for error. Algorithms rewritten with a kind of brutality that felt almost personal.

  Ghost stood there with his back to her, adjusting the controls with the precision of someone who already knew every flaw, every weakness.

  “You’re tweaking my training again, aren’t you?” Dot’s voice cut through the room, low, edged with humor. She leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, wetting her lips before adding, “Or do you just can’t resist poking at whatever I leave open?”

  He didn’t look at her right away, but he answered.

  “It had gaps.” His tone was impassive. “And you hate gaps.”

  She walked in, slow steps, almost careless — except there was nothing casual in the way her eyes searched for his. The feeling of something unfinished from the night before still lingered in her mind... and even more in her body.

  More than anything, in the urge to pick up where they had left off.

  She tossed her jacket onto the counter with deliberate nonchalance, her fingers grazing the cold surface of the control panel, leaving faint trails behind.

  “And you hate when I let anything in,” she shot back with a crooked half-smile. “People included.”

  He finally turned. The bluish light of the simulator carved hard shadows across his face. His jaw was tight.

  “It’s not just anyone,” he said quietly, a dangerous calm beneath the words. “It’s her.”

  Dot lifted a brow. Nyx really had left her mark on them, she thought with dry amusement. She made a mental note to pry a little more out of her coworker later. Her smile widened just enough to provoke.

  “And here I was thinking you weren’t the jealous type.”

  Ghost took a step toward her. Slow. Controlled.

  Predatory.

  “It’s not jealousy,” he replied, closer now. “It’s instinct. Survival.”

  “Funny… my instincts say I can trust her. And they also say you’re hiding more than you should.” Her tone hardened, but the smile stayed. A shield. A game.

  Ghost didn’t answer immediately. The tension hovered between them like steam in a pressurized room. Then, almost involuntarily, he moved. One step — just one — but enough to trap her between the counter and his body. His hands braced against the metal behind her, one on each side.

  He wasn’t touching her.

  He didn’t need to.

  His heat reached her like a warning. The scar at his neck, visible in the half-light, seemed to pulse.

  “You go too deep without measuring the consequences, Dot,” he said, voice low and weighted. “And Nyx knows exactly how to pull you with her.”

  She held her breath. Her eyes, now nearly fully amber, locked onto his. Her body tense, back pressed against the counter.

  But the defiant smile didn’t fade.

  “Better to be pulled than manipulated,” she whispered, one brow arching slightly. “At least she doesn’t hide half the story behind the excuse of protection.”

  Ghost lowered his head just enough for them to share the same air.

  “You have no idea what I’m trying to hold back, Dot,” he hissed, quieter than before. “If you did… you wouldn’t push me like this.”

  Her heart sped up. Her throat went dry. But she held his gaze, a spark of barely restrained challenge flickering there.

  “And if you knew how close I already am to the edge,” she shot back softly, “you wouldn’t be stupid enough to corner me.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched. Almost a smile. Almost.

  The air between them seemed to hold its breath. His right hand left the counter, fingers hovering midair for a second. Indecisive. To touch or not. A gesture that almost didn’t happen — but it did.

  The tension in his arm betrayed the control that seemed to be slipping. He didn’t want to invade, but he wanted to be close. Wanted to make his presence known without marking her skin.

  Dot didn’t step back. Didn’t run. She stayed exactly where she was, her eyes tracking his suspended fingers, as if she knew what it meant… and how much more it left her at his mercy.

  “You play dirty,” she said, her voice rough in a way she didn’t even recognize.

  Ghost leaned in further, just enough for the air between them to shift. His eyes lit, his scent surrounding her, danger and desire blurring their edges.

  And then his hand moved — slow, deliberate.

  First, lightly, the side of his fingers brushing along the curve of her jaw, like someone testing the temperature of something fragile. Then firmer, his thumb tracing the line of her cheek, sliding down and stopping at the edge of her lower lip with quiet precision.

  “Only when I need to remind someone who thinks they can cross me.,” he murmured.

  And then, in a movement so subtle it was almost imagined, as if testing her response, he went a millimeter further. Just enough for the warm pad of his thumb to touch the inside of her lower lip. Not an invasion. A test.

  His eyes never left hers. Watching. Measuring. Waiting.

  Dot’s body answered first. Her breath caught in her throat. Her lips parted under the subtle pressure — not from command, but because her body no longer knew how else to hold the tension.

  Ghost withdrew his thumb slowly, as though the world depended on that retreat, dragging it back along the curve of her lip, tracing what he had just claimed. He didn’t break eye contact.

  Only then did his gaze drop to her mouth. Slow. Calculated. Then back up again. Dot followed the movement, almost hypnotized. Her eyes fell to his mouth in the same rhythm as his gesture. There was no challenge left in her gaze.

  There was surrender.

  When he tilted his face, closing the distance to the bare minimum, she was already there, yielded to what was coming, her eyes sliding shut.

  And at that exact moment, the door slid open with a sharp hum.

  Nyx walked in like she never needed permission, hands resting casually in the pockets of her worn jacket, eyes sweeping over the scene without hurry, as if absorbing every detail: Ghost’s position, Dot’s slightly uneven breathing, the heat still lingering between their bodies.

  He moved first, but not abruptly. He simply straightened, as if slowly depressurizing his own presence. His hand dropped soundlessly, like he had just ended a dissonant note in the air. And then, for two full seconds, he looked at Dot.

  It wasn’t a look of accusation. Nor apology. It was just… raw.

  Unfinished.

  Only then did he step back, giving space.

  Nyx watched with a neutral expression. She didn’t speak at first, but when her eyes met Ghost’s, she gave him a probing look. There was weight there, something rooted in an unspoken past, glinting like cold metal between them.

  Ghost held her gaze with a steadiness so firm it almost felt rehearsed. But Dot knew that kind of silence. It was the kind that hid irritation.

  “Ready?” Nyx turned to Dot, already moving, as if she didn’t expect an answer.

  “Already was.”

  Dot murmured, her throat still dry. She grabbed her jacket automatically, trying to ignore the warmth still burning along her neck, her face, her entire body. She could feel his attention still on her — tracking her movements like a silent radar, clinging like static. The kind only Ghost ever left behind.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  But he said nothing.

  He didn’t need to.

  His eyes settled on Nyx once Dot had turned her back. The contact was brief and sharp. And what he found in her wasn’t surprise. Nor curiosity.

  There was calculation.

  And something that bordered on judgment.

  Nyx held his gaze a second longer than comfortable, just enough to ensure the message landed without words: you didn’t tell her. Something in him reacted, subtle, nearly imperceptible — but she saw it. Only then did she look back at Dot, assessing, as if measuring the terrain before deciding where to step.

  When her gaze returned to him, something new flickered there. A faint, slanted smile, the kind that doesn’t announce confrontation, but makes it clear the decision is still pending.

  ? ? ?

  The bike was parked in a discreet corner of the Hangar. An imposing 600cc machine, black with chrome details reflecting the cold overhead lights. Dot let out a low whistle as she approached beside Nyx, who handed her a helmet.

  Nyx slowly finished zipping up her jacket, casting a defiant look toward a familiar figure standing a few feet ahead. Spectrum stood there chewing on a strip of synthetic candy, half-smile already in place, one brow arched at the scene unfolding.

  “What an adorable little couple. Honeymoon, or are you two just going out to blow something up?”

  “If you’re lucky, the next explosion takes you with it.” Nyx’s tone was dry and sarcastic, but she couldn’t quite hide the crooked smile tugging at her mouth as she adjusted her hair beneath the balaclava.

  “Oh, I’ve missed the death threats,” Spectrum shot back, just to prod her. “Thought you’d gotten too soft for that after our last little outing.”

  Nyx huffed a barely contained laugh, and for the first time Dot caught a real flicker of emotion from her. Not exactly anger. Something more… intimate. Unfinished. Nyx’s voice carried a trace of disguised humor, dry as ever.

  “If I wanted sentimentality, I’d have brought flowers.”

  She pulled on her helmet and swung onto the bike. Dot followed, still watching the exchange with open curiosity. The question itched at her — what kind of unresolved tension was that?

  Nyx kicked into first gear and took off before Spectrum could reply, though Dot barely caught something like, “Missed you too, princess of chaos,” before the engine drowned him out.

  Dot held on tightly, eyes fixed on the night horizon opening ahead of them. The wind carried off part of her nerves — but not enough to quiet the growing sensation in her stomach. They were heading somewhere safe. Or at least far enough from the shadows that moved too much inside the Vault.

  At least, that’s what they believed.

  The engine finally went silent when Nyx parked on a nearly deserted street lit by low posts casting long, soft shadows. The place was a small abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city.

  An improvised refuge, hidden enough to ensure privacy.

  Nyx removed her helmet slowly, then the balaclava with easy familiarity. Her loosely tied bun fell apart, strands slipping carelessly over her shoulders.

  “It’s not exactly a spa,” Nyx said, voice still carrying that calculated dryness, though something vulnerable flickered in her eyes as she glanced at the surrounding shadows. “But it’ll do.”

  Dot slid off the bike, still feeling the echo of speed in her bones, her gaze steady — almost eager — as Nyx moved through the space with practiced familiarity. She pulled a small device from her jacket pocket. To inattentive eyes it looked like workshop scrap: exposed wires, rough soldering, a greenish lens mounted on top.

  She switched it on. A thin beam pulsed against the wall.

  Nyx rotated her wrist slowly, sweeping the sides of the space as if brushing the air itself. The sound was subtle — a low hiss, almost a breath.

  She switched it off and pocketed it.

  “Jammer. Signal blocker,” she said, noticing Dot’s curious stare. “Or as I like to call her, Josephine. Directional. If there’s any hidden electronics in here, they’ll spend the next thirty minutes thinking they’ve lost their minds.”

  “And us?” Dot asked, pointing at her own communicator.

  “We’re outside the beam. Pulsed. I only swept around us.”

  Dot stepped closer now, less hesitant, carrying that old curiosity — that attachment built through long stretches of partnership through messages.

  “Nyx, Hold on. We need to unpack this…” The mischievous smile came easily. Nyx lifted a brow in response. “Who would’ve thought my AI chat partner had this much attitude? “Furious bike. Homemade tech. And you named it Josephine?” She grinned. “You’re making it very hard to keep my cool.”

  Nyx looked away, but Dot caught the genuine humor flickering across her face.

  “Surprises,” she said lightly. “But here we are.”

  The softer mood between them was cut short by a message flashing across Dot’s communicator. Her expression tightened. When Nyx noticed, a shadow of concern crossed her face.

  [Private Message Received]

  “Don’t trust her rhythm.

  The melody may sound familiar, but the lyrics have changed.

  Watch the chorus.”

  — G

  “Apparently they still see you as a threat,” Dot said with a half-smile.

  Nyx gave a small shrug, unfazed.

  “They just don’t know how to handle a breakup in a healthy way.”

  Dot stepped back, studying her — the hacker who, in that moment, felt more like a living riddle than ever.

  “Feels like your past with the Vault’s Incursors was more than just a casual encounter.”

  It was bold of her. She knew it. But curiosity had always outweighed common sense. Nyx held her gaze for a brief second, her cool expression giving little away.

  “We don’t always get to be proud of our past...Do we?” she said. Dot caught the implication. But to her surprise, Nyx’s mouth curved into a faint half-smile. “I had my share of involvement. With them. With the Vault. A contract.” A beat. “The rest… stayed in the archives.”

  Dot stayed quiet. For now, she took it as a half-truth — but she wouldn’t push further than that. She drew a breath before breaking the silence settling between them.

  “Okay. Let’s get to it. Show me what else you found.” Her voice was low, edged with urgency. “What did you discover?”

  Nyx inhaled deeply, like she was about to open a dangerous door.

  “It’s bigger than we thought. Cipher isn’t just a name floating around the underworld. He’s the key — and maybe the biggest threat to understanding what the Shrouded are doing. And what they want.”

  Dot felt the tension spike, the anger she kept contained threatening to break free.

  “Then we double down,” she said, her voice lowering further. “Because they won’t want this getting out.” A beat. “And they’ll come hard.”

  Nyx gave a faint smile, her eyes reflecting something fierce.

  “They already did.” She pointed at the patch on her brow. “That’s why we need to move faster than they do.”

  Nyx adjusted her hair with a sharp motion, her eyes sparking in the half-light. Her breathing was calm, but heavy — like she was choosing the exact moment to release what she carried.

  “I dug deep. Found a lot on your contractor’s phone,” she began, her voice rough, avoiding Dot’s gaze.

  Dot frowned, heat crawling up her spine.

  “It took me weeks to crack the encryption protocols. They weren’t generic patterns… they predate the Great Fall. Handcrafted. Or close to it.” She let out a dry laugh. “They were counting on very few people recognizing that.”

  She pulled another device from her jacket and placed it on the floor. A low hum filled the room as a holo-projector activated, casting greenish beams like ghost-light across the narrow space. Nyx sat in an abandoned metal chair, shoulders rigid now. Dot remained standing, arms crossed, eyes locked onto the projection in front of her.

  The file opened.

  Images scrambled: strands of genetic code, redacted names, hidden watermarks flickering in corners for milliseconds. One in particular kept repeating:

  V9-Cyphr

  Dot narrowed her eyes.

  “That’s his signature. Cipher.”

  Nyx paused, choosing her words carefully.

  “That tag shows up across multiple medical files, training logs… and it heads a project called ‘Genesis Protocol.’ It’s somewhere between bioengineering and neural conditioning.”

  Dot felt herself tighten further. Her voice came out slow, measured.

  “You’re telling me Cipher’s involved in creating Shrouded?”

  Nyx shook her head slightly.

  “Not exactly creation. The Shrouded in this project are refinements.” A subtle crease formed between her brows. “Or maybe worse… instruments. Weapons.”

  The hologram shifted — layered images of sterile white rooms with containment tanks. Some filled with bodies. Others marked by spirals etched into forearms. One spiral pulsed faintly.

  Dot swallowed hard.

  It wasn’t entirely new. There were too many similarities to what she had seen in Marrow. She already knew about engineered Shrouded, about clandestine labs.

  But she hadn’t expected to see attempts to replicate her mark.

  “Was he trying to replicate… me?” she murmured. “Or whatever I am.”

  Nyx gave a small shrug, as if the idea didn’t shock her.

  “Or maybe you’re the final version.”

  She said it casually, but Dot froze. She had never let that possibility form fully in her mind — until now. They stared at each other, tension thick between them. Nyx clicked again, and a new image surfaced.

  Date: 0001-0X

  Project: Genesis / Unit: A01

  Status: LOST

  Nyx turned toward Dot, noticing just how rigid she’d become. Her voice sounded almost like she was reading out a death sentence.

  “The project template, designated A01, apparently disappeared…” Her gaze held Dot’s. Her tone lowered. “I pulled additional data and… I could be making a very wrong connection here, but… A01 could very well be you, Dot.”

  Silence.

  “I’m not pulling that out of thin air,” Nyx added with a faint half-smile. “I’m cross-referencing with data I came across years ago. Jobs I did.” A pause. “For the Vault.”

  Dot’s eyes widened, but she said nothing.

  Nyx let a sardonic smile spread.

  “Kind of ironic that I’m back at the Vault for shelter,” she muttered, almost to herself, before facing Dot again, her voice firmer. “I’ll use the stay to dig deeper. See if I can unearth more buried records there — bring you something solid.”

  Dot nodded silently, her gaze returning to the floating data, her jaw tightening.

  A storm was building inside her: encrypted labs, Ascendants used as test subjects, the Vault knowing something about her, her possibly being a template... and Cipher orchestrating it all.

  It felt like the universe was pouring gasoline over a fire already burning inside her.

  “…Is there more?” Dot asked, voice rough now, wary of what was coming next.

  “There’s a location.” Nyx’s eyes drifted to Dot, studying her. She noticed the rising tension — and for the first time, a faint amber flicker in Dot’s eyes.

  “Of course there is,” Dot murmured, almost to herself.

  A map projected into the air. A dead zone in the southern hemisphere. One of the regions long abandoned by time. But a name surfaced, hidden like a buried signature:

  Zero Point

  “Judging by the dramatic name… I’d say that’s where it all started,” Nyx commented, thoughtful. “Or… where he might still be operating.”

  “Fuck, Nyx…” Dot’s tone darkened. “A possible location. For him.”

  Nyx watched Dot’s face closely. She didn’t see fear. Not even the earlier tension. What she saw now was more dangerous — restrained determination with the potential to turn destructive. She knew about Dot’s recent upgrade. Not just from what Walkyria had shared, but from the research Nyx had quietly conducted on her own.

  The explosion at Voss’s lab flashed through her mind. Dot’s reaction now echoed those records — she drew in a deep breath, visibly trying to contain a fury threatening to detonate. According to the data Nyx had accessed, the blast back then hadn’t been minor.

  “So all of this…” Dot’s voice was low, but controlled. “When I worked with him, what was it, really?” She turned toward Nyx, the question blazing in her eyes. “A dirty game? Just a test? Was he using me as what — a weapon? For fuck’s sake…”

  Dot began pacing, trying to process the flood of information. Nyx simply watched in silence. The only sound in the room was the faint hum of the hologram, yet the air between them grew heavy, dense.

  “We need to dig deeper into this,” Dot murmured, her voice threaded with a new kind of resolve. “But… I don’t know how they’ll react.”

  Nyx offered a small smile, her gaze steady on Dot. “I have a feeling I do.” Dot lifted a subtle brow, genuinely curious about the tone. “I’m sure they’re already tracking our steps.”

  ? ? ?