SUBJECT ONE.

Chapter 10: Subject One

Dante stared at the man before him, his mind racing. Subject One?

If Cain was telling the truth, that meant he was the first—the original experiment. The one who came before Dante.

The question was: why was he still alive?

Lyra didn't lower her gun. Her finger rested on the trigger, ready. "You expect us to believe you?"

Cain's crimson eyes gleamed. "Believe me? No. But you should listen."

Dante studied him. The man looked worn—his face marred by old scars, his expression edged with something close to exhaustion. But there was no mistaking the strength in his stance, the way he carried himself.

This was a man who had survived something no one else had.

Dante exhaled. "Then start talking."

Cain tilted his head. "You're stronger than I was. That means they improved the process."

Lyra narrowed her eyes. "What process?"

Cain's lips curled in something that wasn't quite a smile. "The one that turns people into weapons."

Dante's stomach twisted. He had suspected as much, but hearing it out loud made it real.

Cain took a step closer. "You think this ends with you? It doesn't. There are others—ones you haven't met yet. Some like me, who ran. Others who…" He trailed off, gaze darkening. "Others who didn't."

Dante's jaw tightened. "You're saying there are more of us."

Cain nodded. "But not all of them are on your side."

A heavy silence followed.

Lyra glanced at Dante, her expression unreadable. "Why are you here? If you ran, why come back?"

Cain's face hardened. "Because the ones hunting you are worse than anything you've faced so far."

Dante folded his arms. "Who?"

Cain exhaled, his crimson eyes flickering.

"The Primordials."

The word sent an involuntary chill down Dante's spine.

Lyra frowned. "Primordials?"

Cain nodded. "The ones pulling the strings. The ones who created you, created us. They're not human—not entirely." He gestured toward Dante. "You feel it, don't you? The changes? The way your senses have sharpened, the way your body moves faster than it should?"

Dante's fingers twitched. He did feel it. The longer he existed like this, the less human he felt.

Cain's voice dropped. "They want you back because you're their best work. But they're not coming to retrieve you." His crimson eyes locked onto Dante's.

"They're coming to break you."

Dante's fists clenched. "Let them try."

Cain let out a humorless chuckle. "That's what I said once." He lifted his shirt slightly, revealing a deep scar running across his ribcage. The skin was marred with dark, unnatural veins, like something had tried to burrow into him.

Dante's stomach turned.

"They don't just kill you," Cain said, voice low. "They rewrite you. Turn you into something else."

Lyra's voice was cold. "And what do they want with me?"

Cain studied her for a long moment. "You already know, don't you?"

Lyra's grip on her gun tightened.

Dante noticed. "Lyra—?"

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "Later."

Cain's gaze lingered on her for a second longer before he turned back to Dante. "If you want to survive, you can't keep running. You need to strike first."

Dante met his gaze. "And how do we do that?"

Cain's lips curved into something sharp. "We go to the city."

Lyra's eyes narrowed. "The city is a death trap."

Cain's expression darkened. "No. The city is a battlefield. And if you want to win—if you want to take control of whatever the hell they put inside you—then you need to start there."

Dante exhaled slowly. He didn't trust Cain. Not yet. But he needed answers. And right now, Cain was the only one willing to give them.

"Fine," Dante said. "We go to the city."

Cain smirked. "Good choice."

But Dante had the sinking feeling that good had nothing to do with it.

Because whatever was waiting for them in the city—it wasn't going to let them leave alive.

End of Chapter 10

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