The problem with erasing a ghost…
is that sometimes something darker grows in the empty space you leave behind.
Three days.
Three sleepless, spiraling, precision-broken days since that warehouse—
since Luna in my arms, snow in her hair, fear in her voice.
Three days since she walked away from me.
Three days of trying to delete Rogue from existence.
And failing.
I stand in the dim glow of my private server room, the hum of machines filling the December air like a heartbeat I can’t shut off. Screens wrap around me—tiered, stacked, bleeding lines of code that used to obey me.
Not anymore.
“Purge sequence incomplete,” the AI repeats.
“Residual networks detected. Unidentified login—access denied.”
That’s the sixth attempt.
I slam my hand against the console.
The steel rattles like
