The line between
Chapter 15 – The Line Between
Evelyn Bell didn't wait for them to come to her.
She sent an invitation—delivered through a hacked broadcast only Nyra could decode. A signature, a time, a meeting point in Berlin.
"One-on-one. No weapons. Come alone."
Michael thought it was a trap. Mason voted to ignore it. Amara said they should move quietly and disappear.
But Nyra?
She said yes.
---
She left a note on Elias's desk:
> I know you won't trust me after this. I'm not sure I trust myself. But if I can end this without blood, I have to try.
– N.
Amara found it first.
Her fingers tightened around the paper.
"She's going to Evelyn," she said flatly.
"She could be buying us time," Elias offered, unsure.
"Or selling us out."
---
Meanwhile, in Berlin
Nyra walked into the abandoned opera house with her hands visible, her pulse tight in her throat.
Evelyn stood beneath the stage lights—still graceful, still terrifying.
"Nyra," she said. "You look tired."
"Spare me the games."
"I'm not here to play." Evelyn gestured. "I'm here to offer you what I always did: purpose."
"I found a new one."
"Really?" Evelyn stepped closer. "Because last I checked, Elias still looks at you like he wants to believe in you. And Amara? She'll never trust you."
Nyra's voice was quiet. "You're wrong."
"Then prove it. Bring me the girl. Or bring me Elias."
Nyra's breath caught.
"You said no weapons," she whispered.
"I didn't bring any," Evelyn said. "But I didn't say anything about the people hiding outside."
---
Back at the motel
Michael burst in.
"We've got chatter," he said. "Evelyn's operatives are moving. Berlin."
Elias didn't hesitate. "Pack up. We're going after her."
Amara met his eyes.
"Even if it's a trap?"
He nodded. "Especially then."
Berlin wore a grey sky like mourning cloth. The streets were slick with earlier rain, and the city itself felt too quiet—as if holding its breath for something inevitable.
The team split into two vehicles. Michael and Mason took the southern route, circling the opera house's perimeter. Elias drove the second car, Amara beside him, her hand clutched tight around West's journal.
Neither of them spoke for most of the ride.
Finally, Amara broke the silence. "Do you think she's going to turn?"
He didn't answer immediately. "I think she's already chosen something. I just don't know if it's us."
"She cares about you," she said, softer than she meant to.
Elias kept his eyes on the road. "That's not what matters."
Amara looked out the window. "Isn't it?"
---
Inside the opera house
Nyra was seated at the edge of the old stage, the room echoing with the distant hum of power generators. Evelyn stood near a broken column, watching her like a sculptor studies clay.
"You could still come back," Evelyn said. "You were my best. You knew how to disappear, how to manipulate. You built our firewall system. You ran it."
"I also saw what you were doing to people," Nyra said, her voice edged with bitterness. "The surveillance. The assassinations. The 'disappearances.'"
"All necessary."
"No. Convenient."
Evelyn walked toward her, heels clicking across the old floorboards. "Then why are you here, Nyra? Because you still crave purpose. And you're not getting that with Elias."
Nyra's jaw clenched. "He gave me a second chance."
"No," Evelyn replied. "He gave you something to cling to. And the girl—Amara? She'll never accept you. You know that."
Nyra looked down at her hands. "Then maybe I'll have to earn it."
"You'll never be one of them."
Nyra stood. "Maybe. But I'd rather be uncertain and free than certain and enslaved."
Evelyn's eyes turned cold. "Then you've made your choice."
---
Outside
Elias, Amara, and the others moved in, keeping comms open and eyes sharp. They saw the heat signatures first—mercenaries stationed at each corner of the opera house.
"They've fortified the place," Michael whispered.
"Nyra's still in there," Elias replied. "We need to create a diversion."
Amara placed a hand on his arm. "If anything happens—"
He didn't let her finish. "We'll get her out."
She nodded, trying to believe it.
---
Back inside
Evelyn turned to leave, signaling someone in the shadows.
But Nyra was faster than she looked. She dropped behind a curtain, pulling a tiny flash drive from her sleeve. With shaking fingers, she jammed it into the old control panel—triggering the emergency alarm system wired into the building from years ago.
The sirens screamed to life.
Outside, Elias grinned. "That's our cue."
---
The team stormed in.
Glass shattered. Shots rang out.
Amara ducked behind a column, covering Elias as he ran for the stage.
Michael and Mason flanked the side, taking out guards with rubber rounds. Non-lethal—but just enough to drop them.
Elias reached the stage.
Nyra turned at the sound of his voice. "You came?"
He pulled her up. "Of course I came."
Evelyn's voice crackled through the PA system.
"Very touching. But it's too late. You've all chosen wrong."
The lights exploded. The floor beneath them gave way.
And then—
Darkness.The world came back in blinks of red and smoke.
Amara's ears rang, muffling the chaos as debris settled in the wake of the explosion. A deep, mechanical rumble echoed beneath them—part of the opera house had collapsed into the substructure beneath the city.
She coughed, pushing herself up from cracked concrete.
"Elias?" she called out, her voice hoarse.
"I'm here!" His voice came from her right—closer than she expected. He was limping, one arm cradling his ribs, but alive.
Then—"Nyra?" he shouted.
No answer.
"Nyra!"
Amara spotted her near a metal beam, struggling to sit up. Blood streaked her forehead, and one of her legs was pinned under rubble. Elias rushed to her side, lifting debris without hesitation.
Amara watched—quiet, still, trying not to feel too much.
Trying not to feel anything at all.
---
Minutes later
They regrouped in a narrow corridor beneath the stage, part of the opera's old maintenance system. Michael and Mason radioed down from above—they were safe, but the upper level was compromised. No way back.
The only option: forward.
Through tunnels.
Through the unknown.
As they moved, the silence between Elias and Amara turned heavy.
He kept glancing at Nyra, his hand brushing hers more than once.
Amara tried not to notice.
But she did.
---
Deep in the tunnels
They found a sealed chamber—some kind of panic room. And within it, a console. A backup system Evelyn had kept offline.
Nyra moved toward it instinctively, fingers dancing across the keys.
"What is this?" Elias asked.
"She used this to store blackmail material. Intelligence, recordings, surveillance logs. Everything she used to control people."
Nyra hesitated, then pulled up a secure folder.
It was labeled Project Helix.
Amara felt her stomach twist. "What the hell is that?"
Nyra opened it.
And the screen filled with files—video footage, voice logs, documents. One stood out: a surveillance video labeled "West Solarin – Final Transmission."
Nyra glanced at Elias.
"You should see this," she said quietly.
---
The video played
West sat at a desk in a dimly lit room. Her hair was messier than usual. Her eyes were tired.
> "If you're watching this, it means I didn't make it.
You'll hear things about Elias—his father, especially.
Don't believe the version Evelyn will give you.
The truth is buried under layers of lies, and it always comes back to one thing—"
She leaned closer to the camera.
> "Tell him. Don't trust anyone."
> "Not even me, if it comes to it. But tell him: Evelyn was never trying to end Daedalus. She was building something worse. And Elias... he's the key to stopping it. Because they tried to make him into something else. And they failed."
The screen flickered. The feed ended.
---
Amara turned toward him. "What does that mean?"
He didn't answer.
His face was pale.
He looked at Nyra—then away.
"I need air," he muttered, pushing past them.
Amara started to follow—but Nyra grabbed her arm.
"Let him go."
Amara stared at her.
Nyra's voice was low. "He didn't know. But whatever she meant—he has to face it alone."
Amara shook her off. "That's not your call."
Nyra hesitated. "It's not yours either."
---
Outside the tunnels
Elias stood in the rain, fists clenched, haunted by the truth.
Whatever Project Helix was—whatever his father had done—Evelyn had known all along. And West… she had died protecting the very thing he didn't know he carried.
The truth was catching up.
And none of them were ready.