The Montana bunker had become a nerve center of frantic activity.
Michael stood at the main console, his eyes fixed on the data streaming across the screens. The new signal was unlike anything they'd ever encountered—powerful, ancient, and carrying an urgency that made his skin crawl. It pulsed with a rhythm that seemed to echo something deep within his memory, something he couldn't quite grasp.
Freddy was beside him, his fingers flying across the keyboard. His face was pale, his eyes bloodshot from days of non-stop work. "I've traced the signal," he said, his voice hoarse. "It's coming from a location in the Pacific. A remote island that's not on any map."
Michael felt a chill run down his spine. "Another island? Another facility?"
"No. This is different. The signal is coming from ben
