"Who are you?"
Rea’s voice resonated through the damp, narrow confines of the maintenance tunnel, but there was no reply. The notification on her display remained stagnant, a blinking red cursor mocking her newfound confidence. Her heart hammered against her ribs, the rhythmic thumping amplified by her internal cybernetics, which were still adjusting to the Ghost Protocol’s integration. She felt exposed, a digital flare lighting up in the dark, silent network that Zeldin usually controlled with an iron grip. If someone else was watching, it meant her escape and her clandestine transformation might have been monitored from the very start.
She wiped the sweat from her forehead with a trembling hand and forced herself to focus. She could not afford to be paranoid. She had to be precise. R
