Outside Tannersville, Wyoming – Present Day
Time: 05:43 AM
Audrey sat motionless inside the stolen 4x4, boots up on the dash, eyes fixed on the pale orange bleeding through the clouds. The sunrise didn't move her. It hadn't in years.
Beside her, Sebastian rifled through a dossier stolen from a safehouse contact—Lucien's surveillance grid, timelines, operative assets.
But Audrey wasn't reading.
She was remembering.
"You ever wonder," she murmured, "how much of this started with us?"
Sebastian didn't answer.
Because he had wondered.
And because he already knew the answer.
Flashback
Damascus, Syria – 6 Years Ago
Operation Codename: WIDOWMARK
Team: HERETIC
Rain had no business in the desert, but that night—it fell like ash.
Four of them dropped into the city's western perimeter in silence. Black suits. Unmarked gear. Intel classified even to senior NATO analysts.
Her name was Layla Rousseau—code-name Valkyrie, embedded field medic, specialist in urban recon.
She was also Audrey's best friend.
No—more than that.
Sisters. By blood? No. But by life? Every breath, every bullet.
Audrey's orders were clear: infiltrate a weapons depot controlled by an emerging militia faction with ties to an unknown financier—code-named Zeus. Collect, confirm, extract.
But nothing about that night was clear.
"Eyes on target," Layla's voice whispered through comms, tinged with tension. "Intel said eight guards. I count thirteen."
Lucien's voice came next—cold, clinical. "Change of plan. Confirm presence of Package Zulu inside the lower chamber. Engage if compromised."
Audrey flinched.
"Zulu wasn't part of the brief," she hissed into the mic.
Silence.
Then: "Zulu is primary. Orders supersede."
She turned to Layla, who crouched beside her in a second-story ruin, wind pushing dust between them.
"Do you trust him?" Layla asked softly.
Audrey stared at the compound below. "No."
And they went anyway.
Inside, everything fell apart.
Explosions. Misfired signals. Backup never arrived.
In the lower chamber—Audrey found the package.
Not weapons. Not data.
Children.
Seven of them. Maybe eight. Chained. Drugged. Unconscious.
Experiment tags on their wrists.
This wasn't about war.
This was human testing.
And standing across the chamber, pistol drawn—Lucien.
"I said Zulu was the target," he said calmly. "I never said what Zulu was."
"You lied to us."
"I gave you purpose. You just didn't like the cost."
Layla stepped between Audrey and Lucien. "We get them out, or I burn the whole damn op."
Lucien didn't hesitate.
He shot her. Twice.
Audrey screamed.
The world spun.
Gunfire erupted, then silence.
She doesn't remember how she got out. Only that she did.
Dragging Layla's body through rubble. Half her face gone. No pulse. No med evac.
When Audrey made it back to the extraction zone—she was the only one left alive.
Or so she thought.
Lucien was gone. Files were buried. And Project Heretic was officially disbanded within 48 hours.
The bodies?
Classified.
The children?
Never found.
The death?
Labeled "Friendly Fire."
Return to Present – Wyoming
Sebastian watched Audrey, her jaw clenched, hands gripping the wheel like she could choke the past out of it.
"She was Clara's daughter, wasn't she?"
Audrey nodded.
"She died because I followed orders."
Sebastian leaned closer. "No. She died because Lucien used you both."
Audrey exhaled shakily.
"We're not just fighting him," she said. "We're fighting what he made from our mistakes."
She pulled a folded photo from her coat pocket—creased, weathered.
Layla. Smiling. Arm slung over Audrey's shoulder. Syria, 2019.
"We end this," Audrey whispered. "Not for justice. Not for redemption."
She looked at Sebastian.
"But for her."