The room tilted.
Lena staggered back a step, her breath caught somewhere between denial and disbelief.
The screen glowed brighter.
Her face stared back at her.
Younger.
Smaller.
Terrified.
A hospital band circled the child’s wrist. Numbers flashed beside it — data codes, medical readings, classifications she didn’t understand.
But one line stood clear:
SUBJECT L–17: COMPATIBILITY CONFIRMED
“No,” Lena whispered.
Her voice sounded distant to her own ears.
“That’s not real.”
Ivan watched her carefully, almost gently.
“It is.”
Alex didn’t lower his gun.
“Turn it off.”
Ivan ignored him.
The file scrolled automatically.
Brain scans.
Behavioral charts.
Psychological evaluations.
Dates spanning years Lena couldn’t remember.
“You erased my memories,” she said slowly.
Alex’s
