The wind howled along the mountain pass. Crimson sunset bled across the dashboard.
Jack gripped the wheel tighter, his knuckles bone-white.
He slapped the last evidence photo on the dash: a charred lab coat. A scalpel etched with V.V.
“You lied to me."
Vesper didn't flinch. “Be specific."
“You whispered my *middle name* during the tornado. I never told you that."
She smiled faintly. “No. But your personnel file did."
His voice dropped. “So I wasn't a coincidence. I was a selection."
“I needed someone ethical. Predictable. Someone whose moral compass could be manipulated just enough to carry me out."
“You studied me."
“I *chose* you."
Jack pulled the car off the road, tires skidding over gravel.
He threw it into park. Turned to her.
“You used everything. The storm. The hormones
