The City that Watches

The city breathed.

It did not move, not in the way living things did, but there was a pulse beneath the streets, a hum just beneath the surface, like the heartbeat of something too large to comprehend.

And it was watching.

The man at the edge of this impossible place—this city that should not exist—stood with his hands in his coat pockets, staring up at the skyline.

It was wrong.

Not because it looked unnatural—if anything, it was eerily perfect. The buildings stretched toward the sky in sharp, elegant lines, glass towers reflecting neon signs that glowed in unfamiliar colors. Streets were paved too smoothly, lacking cracks, lacking the wear and tear of time.

But that wasn't the real problem.

The real problem was that every time he blinked, something changed.

A light that had been red was suddenly green. A building that had been tall and narrow became short and wide. An alleyway that had stretched into darkness was now a dead end.

The city was shifting.

And it was aware of him.

Behind him, the woman spoke again. "You feel it, don't you?"

Her voice was light, conversational. But she wasn't joking.

The man exhaled, adjusting the weight of the bag slung over his shoulder. "Yeah," he admitted. "I feel it."

She stepped closer, just enough that he could see her out of the corner of his eye. "And?"

He didn't answer.

Because the truth was—he didn't know what it meant.

Not yet.

Ethan Was Not Free.

The wind rolled in from the ocean, the scent of salt thick in the air. The dock beneath him was solid, steady. The waves crashed like they always had, like they always should have.

And yet—

Something inside him ached.

Anna sat beside him, tossing a small rock between her hands. She wasn't looking at him, but she could sense the shift in him, just like she always could.

"You're thinking too loud again," she muttered.

Ethan huffed a quiet laugh. "You say that like I can stop."

She finally turned her head toward him, brow raised. "So, are you gonna tell me what's eating at you, or do I have to start guessing?"

Ethan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"It's not over," he admitted.

Anna frowned. "What do you mean? We broke the cycle, didn't we? We made it out."

Ethan closed his eyes. He felt the air, the ground, the undeniable reality around him.

But he also felt something else.

A tether.

A pull.

Like a thread tied to his ribs, tugging him backward toward something that shouldn't be there anymore.

"It's not gone," he said finally.

Anna went still.

Ethan opened his eyes and turned toward her. "The city. The anomaly. Whatever you want to call it. We didn't destroy it. We just… moved it."

Anna exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. "Ethan—"

He cut her off. "You don't feel it?"

She didn't answer right away.

Because she did feel it.

That sense of something unfinished, of a door left ajar rather than closed.

She swore under her breath, rubbing her temples. "Goddamn it."

Ethan leaned back, staring at the sky. "Yeah."

They sat there in silence, the weight of it settling between them.

Then Anna groaned. "So what, we're supposed to go after it? Again?"

Ethan didn't answer.

Because the truth was—he didn't think they had a choice.

Victoria Lane Had Spent Her Life Playing Chess.

She saw the moves before they happened. She controlled the board, controlled the pieces, dictated the pace of the game.

But now—

Now, she was staring at a monitor that shouldn't have been working.

Luminex was still in recovery. Horizon had pulled out. The war room was quiet.

Except for the single live feed blinking at her from the main screen.

A city street.

Not St. Augustine.

Something else.

Something new.

She knew what she was looking at. She just didn't know how.

A message appeared on the screen, unprompted.

A single phrase.

"You are watching, but you are not seeing."

Victoria's fingers curled into fists.

She hated riddles.

Hated unanswered questions.

But most of all—she hated knowing she was being watched.

Her earpiece crackled.

A voice came through. Familiar. Too familiar.

Smooth. Unconcerned.

"I told you this wasn't over."

Victoria exhaled slowly, pressing two fingers to her temple. "And I told you, I don't like games."

The voice chuckled. "Then why are you still playing?"

She hated that he had a point.

Victoria's gaze flicked back to the screen. The camera feed was still running, still showing the impossible.

She didn't have answers.

But she knew where to find them.

She turned, fingers flying over her keyboard, encrypting a command.

Find Ethan Ward.

The City That Should Not Exist

The man walked deeper into the streets.

The woman had stayed behind. She had given her warning, and she would not follow him further.

But he had to go.

The air was thick, charged with something unseen.

The city was alive.

Not just aware of him—aware of itself.

Every step he took felt deliberate, as though he was moving along a path that had already been decided.

Then—he heard it.

A voice.

Low. Familiar.

Amused.

"Took you long enough."

The man stopped.

And beneath the neon glow of a flickering streetlight, leaning casually against a wall, was Ethan Ward.

Ethan's gaze was steady, his arms folded.

He looked like he had been waiting.

The man exhaled, tilting his head slightly. "Guess I should've expected you."

Ethan smiled faintly. "You're late."

The city shifted around them.

And the game—whatever it was—had begun again.