Dawn arrived thin and grey, like unpainted metal. They moved under cover — Liam, Ava, and a small team whose faces were lit by purpose more than sleep. The city was blearier at that hour, the edges smudged and soft; perfect for those who wanted to slip back into the gaps.
The blacksite lab crouched beneath the earth, its bulk a secret beneath foundations and reinforced slabs. The entrance was a mouth that swallowed them, the air inside colder than the air above, charged with the static of dormant machinery. As they descended, the hum built — a bass note under a cathedral’s arches — and with it, the sense that they were stepping into a place that remembered everyone who had ever bent a knee before it.
Seven’s voice greeted them over the speakers — immaculate, clinical, with a patronizing
