06 | Echoes

The night was still trembling.

Three bodies lay twisted across the damp gravel—unmoving, broken in the places that mattered. The crunch of ribs, the snap of bone. I remembered the sounds, not the faces.

I didn’t stop to check if they were breathing.

Didn’t care.

They’d chosen this.

I stood in the shadows a second longer, letting my pulse slow. My breathing leveled out fast—too fast. I’d trained for this. Or maybe I was born for it. Either way, none of it rattled me.

The wind shifted behind me. I listened hard. No more footsteps. For now.

I moved—quick, silent—back through the graveyard paths like I’d never left them. The gravestones blurred past, irrelevant. Even hers.

The silver car sat waiting where I left it. Silent. Loyal. Not safe.

I slipped inside, slammed the lock, and gripped the wheel without starting the engine.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not this soon.

I thought I'd buried that part of me with the name on the stone. But they never stopped looking.

I caught my reflection in the car’s side mirror—just a quick glance. The faint shimmer caught my eye, a rough texture creeping along my forehead and cheek, near my eye. My skin felt tighter there, almost like a thin, tough layer forming beneath the surface.

Without hesitation, I reached into the glove compartment and pulled out the mask I always carried—the one I wore when no one could see beneath the surface. I slid it on, the fabric soft but firm, covering half my face.

Next, I tipped the cap down low, shadowing the rest.

My fingers brushed my forearms—there, too. Rough patches pressed beneath my gloves. I slid my hands inside, the cool leather sealing them away from the world.

I didn’t want to see it. Didn’t want anyone else to.

Just another layer to hide.

I started the engine. The headlights sliced the night open.

I didn’t look back. I didn’t need to.

I was already gone.

The road blurred past in long stretches of silence.

My fingers were still curled too tight around the steering wheel. Jaw locked. I eased my foot on the gas, not because I needed to slow down—but because the rage needed somewhere to go, and the pedal wasn’t enough.

Fourteen years. And still running.

Always one step ahead. Always watching shadows. Always waiting for the next face in the crowd that didn’t belong.

I thought I’d buried it deep enough. But apparently, not deep enough.

They found me.

Not because I slipped—but because this damn loop never ends.

I should have changed my name by now. Let go of Valeska—that fragile tether to a past I’m desperate to escape. But it clings to me, like a scar that refuses to fade.

Maybe that’s why they keep finding me.
Maybe that’s why I can never truly disappear.

A bitter breath escaped me. I leaned back, forcing my spine into the seat, trying to release the tension. I failed.

Still... they wouldn’t track me easily now.

Eastbridge wasn’t on their list. My records were clean. No attachments. No patterns. I’d been careful. I was careful.

But the risk was there. It always was.

I pulled into the apartment lot, headlights sweeping across the familiar lineup of cars.

One of them caught my eye.

Zane’s. Of course.

He really was everywhere these days.

I stared at the car for a heartbeat longer than I meant to. Then shook my head.

Not my business.

I stepped out, locked my door, and walked past his like it wasn’t even there.

Back straight. Gaze forward. Just like always.

The door clicked shut behind me, sealing out the world. I dropped my bag by the door and stood still for a moment, the silence thick and heavy.

Peeling off the cap, I let the dim shadows retreat from my face. Then, carefully, I removed the mask, folding it away like a secret I didn’t want anyone to find.

My hands hovered over the rough patches—areas where the skin felt different, uneven. With slow, practiced patience, I pressed and pulled at the stubborn layers, peeling them away piece by piece, like flakes of old armor shedding under my touch.

The cool air of the apartment met the warmth rising beneath my skin—a slow burn as I worked.

No sound but my steady breath filled the quiet.

A ritual. A quiet reclaiming.

Until my skin was smooth again, bare and ready to face the world—for now.

Sleep had been optional. My mind hadn’t shut up long enough to make it possible. I’d tossed for hours, eyes on the ceiling, thoughts circling back to the same damn name.

Senya Roan. Aynes Rune.

Officially registered. Legally licensed. Absolutely sanitized.

But no social trail, no interviews, no presence outside a sterile system. Whoever filed her papers knew how to make a ghost look legitimate.

By sunrise, I was half-human and all frustration. I shoved on a hoodie, grabbed the closest coffee in reach, and headed out.

The Eastbridge sky was too bright for my mood—blue and smug with scattered clouds, like it had nothing better to do than mock my exhaustion.

The Institute loomed ahead, clean lines and sharp glass, a place meant to impress investors and intimidate newcomers. I stepped through the doors with the same thought I had every morning now: something’s wrong here, and I just haven’t found it yet.

Inside, Mira was crouched by one of the metal counters, picking shards of glass off the floor with plastic tongs and muttering under her breath.

"Do I even need to ask?" I said.

She didn’t look up.
"Ask Jin. He’s the physics failure today."

Right on cue, Jin appeared from the side room with a breakfast sandwich in one hand and an unbothered expression on his face.
"I was conducting a gravity test."

"You dropped a beaker."

"Exactly. Gravity succeeded." he said as he sank into his chair.

I let out a half-laugh.
"You’re a menace."

"And you look like you’ve been hit by a truck. Or worse—grading papers." Mira said.

Jin swiveled in his chair.
"Three days in a row you’ve come in looking like that. Is this your villain arc?"

I tossed my bag on the counter and ran a hand through my hair.
"Didn’t sleep well."

Mira squinted.
"Yeah, no kidding. I see it."

"You wanna talk?" she said, softer now.
"I know we joke, but seriously—you’ve been somewhere else lately. You’re sharper than this. Paranoid. Distant."

Jin nodded.
"Yeah, you barely roasted my snack choice yesterday. Something’s clearly wrong."

I hesitated.

This wasn’t something I planned to share. It wasn’t like Dr. Voss told me to keep it a secret, but still... it felt like something that should stay between us. At least until I understood it better.

But they were looking at me like I’d grown a second head. And honestly, maybe I needed some companionship.

I exhaled.
"Alright. You want the truth?"

They both nodded.

"There’s something going on. With Dr. Voss. With someone else. Her name’s Dr. Senya Roan—or at least, it was."

That got their attention. Mira leaned forward. Jin stopped chewing.

"She worked at Bionex, years ago. Brilliant geneticist. She led a classified program—Project Nyros. A joint effort between multiple labs, but mostly under Grey Circle’s radar."

"Grey Circle?" Jin asked.

"Yes. That's a secret gang."

I continued.
"Project Nyros had one objective—genetic weaponization. Human enhancement. But after its final phase, Dr. Senya vanished. Wiped clean. No forwarding data, no trace."

Mira looked stunned.
"And now?"

"Now she’s resurfaced under a new name—Dr. Aynes Rune. Except nothing about her new identity checks out. Fake credentials. Ghost in the system. And the one patient tied to her name? Gone. Missing."

Silence settled like dust.

Jin muttered,
"Holy hell, man. You’re chasing conspiracy novels."

"No," I said quietly.
"I’m chasing someone who didn’t want to be found. And I think she’s the key to something big."

Mira leaned back in her chair, arms folded.
"So you’ve been sitting on all of that while pretending to care about weekly progress reports?"

Jin whistled low.
"Man’s been living in a spy thriller, and we’re over here arguing about coffee filters."

I gave them a look.
"It wasn’t exactly casual conversation material."

"Well," Mira said, pushing off from the counter,
"it is now. After work, we’re looking into this."

I blinked.
"You’re serious?"

Jin nodded.
"You dragged us into the drama. Now we’re invested."

"I didn’t drag–"

"You did," Mira said flatly.
"By telling us."

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck.
"You don’t even know what you’re walking into."

"No," Mira said,
"but I know you’re already neck-deep in it. And if this Dr. Rune—or Roan—or whoever—is as tangled in Grey Circle as it sounds, you shouldn’t be chasing it alone."

I didn’t argue. Mostly because I didn’t have the energy. And because—deep down—I was relieved.

"After work," I said.
"We’ll start with hospital records. Then go deeper."

Jin gave a sharp nod.
"Good. Now pretend like we’re normal for the next six hours so we don’t get fired."

I cracked a faint smile.
"Deal."

But my mind was already spinning.

We wrapped up the day slower than usual, all three of us pretending to be focused while the real weight hung just beneath the surface. Mira kept glancing at me. Jin was unusually quiet.

By six, we were out the door. Mira practically dragged us out, saying if we stayed any longer, we'd start growing roots in the lab. She wasn’t wrong.

We ended up at the usual coffee spot a block from the lab—The Mug Drop. Faint jazz hummed in the background, and the place smelled like burnt espresso and too many late-night crams.

Mira ordered her chaotic iced caramel-choco-whatever, Jin grabbed a black coffee with two sugars, and I stuck with milk coffee. The table we picked was in the back corner, half-shadowed and quiet.

I opened my laptop.
"Okay," I muttered.
"Let's start with Bionex."

Jin raised a brow.
"That’s not some shady underground thing. That’s… big."

"Exactly," I said, pulling up employee records.
"Dr. Senya Roan worked there until just after Project Nyros. Then nothing. No resignation. No termination. Just… gone."

Mira was already typing.
"Hold up. So two years after that, someone named Aynes Rune appears in their registry. Consultant. Same field. Same license number, just updated. Right?"

"Yeah and she changed her name," Jin said, staring at the screen.
"Why?"

"To hide," I said.

"From what, though?" Jin asked.

"And why was she still allowed in the system?" Mira added.

I hesitated.
"Because they wanted her there. Quietly."

Jin raised an eyebrow.
"Who?"

I glanced up.
"Grey Circle."

Jin leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming the table.
"Okay, so we’re saying she disappeared, switched names, and somehow kept access to Bionex’s systems… unofficially?"

"She was doing something," Mira murmured, eyes flicking across the screen.
"And they either didn’t know or didn’t care."

"I’m betting on ‘didn’t care,’"I said.
"She was too valuable to question. Especially after Nyros."

Jin cracked his knuckles, then reached over and pulled the laptop toward him.
"Let me try something."

He slipped into a rhythm, fingers flying across the keys—quiet, efficient, way too smooth for someone who called it a hobby.

Mira blinked.
"How the hell are you not in prison?"

He smirked.
"Because I’m good."

"No," I said, watching the screen scroll with layer after layer of code.
"You’re scary good."

Ten minutes passed.

Then—click. A new window popped up. A deep system folder buried under levels of encryption most people wouldn’t even know existed.

No employee names. Just encrypted sample IDs and unregistered test logs, tagged with a familiar authorization code.

Jin’s voice was low.
"Found it."

I leaned closer.

"What are we looking at?" Mira asked.

"Test results," Jin said.
"Not standard ones. These aren’t tied to any known Bionex clients or procedures. No names. No trial numbers. Just… raw data."

"And they’re all authorized by Dr. Aynes Rune," I muttered.
"Over months. Maybe years."

Mira scrolled through the columns.
"This one’s flagged as 'Category 9 – Unclassified'… what the hell does that even mean?"

Jin frowned.
"There’s no protocol for that level. Not even in restricted research zones."

"She used Bionex to run her own samples," I said slowly.
"Slipped them through under fake patient IDs. Quiet, untraceable. Grey Circle was never part of Bionex—but she used their equipment. Their funding."

"And no one noticed?" Mira asked.

"She knew how to hide," I said.
"She still does."

Jin’s jaw tightened.
"So… how deep does this go?"

I exhaled, staring at the screen.

"Deep enough that whatever she was doing… it wasn’t meant to be found."

Beat of silence.

Then Mira muttered,
"Well. We just found it."