Chapter Six – The Scalpel’s Eye

The room was white.

Not clean. Sterile. Lifeless in a way that made your skin itch. One desk. One chair. One wall of screens.

Sienna sat with one leg crossed over the other, perfectly still, as Bishop's surveillance fed her details like a god drip-feeding scripture.

A split screen: Aaron at the Bone Yard. Reggie, back from the dead. Leon, twitchy and loyal like a dog trying not to piss itself.

And then—Matthew.

She watched him rock in the dark, whispering to himself.

Still intact. For now.

The door hissed open.

A young tech stepped inside. Eyes down. Voice trembling.

"They've… recruited Reggie Mathis. He's armed. Mobilizing."

Sienna blinked. Once.

"Expected," she said.

"But—" the tech stammered. "You told Bishop Reggie would never cross the line again."

Sienna turned her head slowly.

"I was wrong."

The tech swallowed hard. "Should I—tell him?"

She stood. Smooth. Precise.

"No. He already knows."

She walked to the desk. Picked up a folder. Inside: photos of Aaron, Leon, Matt. Dated. Marked.

Bishop had tracked every relapse, every betrayal, every moment of weakness.

She flipped to the next file. Reggie's.

Inside was a photo of Reggie bound to a chair. His throat cut open. Blood flooding down his chest like a second skin.

She remembered that night.

She'd held the knife.

Bishop had told her: "Remove the voice, but not the memory. Let him scream inside himself."

Now Reggie had found a new voice.

Interesting.

She closed the file, calmly.

"Send a message," she said. "Something simple."

The tech blinked. "To who?"

Sienna's eyes narrowed slightly. No warmth. No anger. Just… calculation.

"To Leon."

She turned toward the screens one last time. Watched Aaron loading weapons into a duffel bag, jaw clenched like he was chewing on old sins.

"A gift from the past," she murmured. "Something to remind him why he betrayed us in the first place."

The tech paused.

"And what should the message say?"

Sienna allowed herself a sliver of a smile.

> "He's still alive."

Then she left the room.

And the screen flickered once—before cutting to black.