The war didn’t begin with gunfire.
It began with silence.
Aruna stood in the center of Dante’s command room, staring at the wall of screens that reflected fragments of a city that never truly slept. Traffic lights flickered. Elevators rose and fell. People moved, unaware that somewhere above them, their world was being quietly rearranged.
Dr. Elena Vasquez was missing.
And that changed everything.
“She was last seen leaving the secondary lab at 21:12,” Victor said, his voice precise. “No signs of struggle. No forced entry.”
“Which means she left willingly,” Dante said.
“No,” Aruna said quietly.
Both men looked at her.
“She left because she believed she was safe.”
The distinction mattered.
Because safety, in their world, was the most fragile illusion of all.
Dante’s gaze lingere
