Chapter 8: The Hand That Built the Fire
The elevator creaked upward, slow and mechanical, like something older than time was dragging it skyward. Sienna’s hand was tight on the boy’s shoulder. Jax stood still, fists clenched, jaw tight.
No one spoke.
Not until the floor dial clicked LEVEL ZERO.
The doors opened.
And the smell of old steel and antiseptic hit them like a memory.
---
The Woman in White
They stepped out into a chamber lined with monitors — all dark except one.
On the screen: a woman. Late forties. Blond hair pulled tight. Eyes sharp as razors. She wore a white coat over tactical armor, a badge glinting silver at her collarbone.
“Mercer,” she said calmly. “You brought him back.”
Jax’s voice was ice. “I’m here for him. Not you.”
Her name tag read: Dr. Valya Rausch.
