"Why can't I shake this memory?" I muttered, staring up at the ceiling. The silence of the room seemed heavier tonight, pressing down like an unwelcome weight.

"Post-traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD, is an anxiety disorder that can develop after someone experiences or witnesses a traumatic event," ALPHA replied, its voice calm, clinical, and devoid of emotion.

I sighed, rubbing my temples. "ALPHA, that was meant to be a rhetorical question."

"My apologies. I was programmed to assist where possible," it responded.

"I know, ALPHA," I said, my tone softening. "I'm still getting used to this... being connected thing." I paused, turning the memory over in my mind for the thousandth time. "Dr. Meyers said he wiped my memories, yet I can't escape this one. Why this one?"

ALPHA hesitated before replying, almost as if it were calculating. "Residual neural patterns may have persisted during the initial wipe. Strong emotional attachments or moments of heightened stress are more likely to embed themselves deeply into the brain's neural framework."

I rolled onto my side, the faint hum of the microcomputers within me a constant reminder of what I was. "So, what you're saying is... this memory survived because it hurt the most?"

"That is a logical hypothesis," ALPHA replied. "Would you like me to assist in blocking this memory?"

I considered the offer for a moment, but the thought of erasing it—of losing that last thread connecting me to my old life—made me recoil. "No," I said firmly. "Not yet. It might hurt, but it's a part of me. I need to figure out why it's still here."

"Understood," ALPHA said. "If you require assistance, you only need to ask."

"Thanks, ALPHA," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. As much as I resented the pain this memory brought, I couldn't let it go. Not yet. It felt important, like a puzzle piece waiting to fit into the larger picture of who I was... and who I needed to be.

The alarm blared again, its shrill tone reverberating through the walls.

"Security breach detected," ALPHA declared in her unshakable voice.

I bolted out of my room, adrenaline already coursing through my veins. When I reached the control room, Dr. Meyers was hunched over the monitors, his fingers flying over the keyboard.

"What do we have, Doc?" I asked, leaning over his shoulder.

"One heat signature detected," ALPHA replied.

"Just one?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. That didn't make sense. The Consortium never operated solo.

Dr. Meyers' expression darkened, his scowl deepening. "Samuel," he hissed.

"Samuel?" My mind flashed back to the training exercises, to the tactical precision of one of the Consortium's most formidable creations. "I'll take care of him," I said, already turning to leave.

"Alex, wait." Dr. Meyers' voice was firm, almost pleading. "We shouldn't rush into anything. Samuel isn't just another ACE soldier. He's—"

"ALPHA, can you confirm there's only one of them?" I interrupted, trying to keep my focus.

"Scanning now," ALPHA replied, but I didn't have time to wait for her analysis.

"There's no time for that," I said, already heading toward the armory.

Inside, the racks gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights. My hands moved with practiced precision, picking out weapons that felt like extensions of my own body. I grabbed a pair of pistols, holstering them on either side of a leather sling strapped across my chest. A compact submachine gun hung at my hip, and I tucked a combat knife into my boot. This was overkill for one opponent, but something told me not to take any chances.

As I made my way to the exit, Dr. Meyers appeared, his face a mix of worry and resolve. He grabbed my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks. I spun around, prepared for an argument, but instead, his lips pressed against mine in an unexpected kiss.

The warmth of his touch and the urgency of the moment left me momentarily stunned. When he pulled back, his eyes locked onto mine.

"Stay safe," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded, my resolve hardening. "I will," I replied, stepping into the shadows of the night.

Samuel was out there, and I was ready.

The small service elevator came to a gentle halt, the soft hum of its descent fading into silence. I remained still, twenty feet below the surface of the farm above, the weight of the coming confrontation settling heavily on my shoulders.

"I have confirmed that only one trespasser is present," ALPHA's calm voice chimed in my mind. "Verification complete using real-time satellite imaging and thermal scans of the entire grounds and the surrounding area."

"Where is he?" I asked, gripping the cold steel railing of the stairwell.

"Last known location is half a mile west, near the edge of the woods," ALPHA replied.

I nodded, taking a steadying breath. My boots echoed softly against the metal staircase as I ascended toward the surface. Each step felt deliberate, purposeful. The staircase led to a concealed storm cellar door on the south end of the farmhouse.

I pushed the cellar doors open slowly, the creak of the hinges blending with the sounds of the evening. The sky was a tapestry of warm orange and pink hues as the sun sank lower, casting long shadows across the yard. The crisp autumn air bit at my face, carrying the faint scent of dry leaves and damp earth.

Samuel was out there somewhere, waiting. My heart pounded, not with fear but with anticipation. I flexed my fingers around the grip of the pistol strapped to my thigh, the leather holster pressing reassuringly against my leg.

"ALPHA," I whispered. "Track his movements. Let me know if anything changes."

"Understood," ALPHA replied, her voice steady.

I stepped out into the open, the waning sunlight casting a golden glow across the property. The trees bordering the farm stood tall and still, their bare branches like skeletal hands reaching for the darkening sky. Each step I took was measured, careful not to disturb the brittle leaves that blanketed the ground.

The woods loomed ahead, a shadowy mass that seemed to beckon me closer. I stopped just shy of the treeline, scanning the dense foliage for any sign of movement.

"ALPHA," I whispered, "anything?"

"Samuel's heat signature remains stationary near a clearing approximately eight hundred yards ahead," ALPHA said. "Be advised, his heart rate and respiration levels suggest heightened vigilance."

Good. Let him be vigilant. I was ready. I adjusted the sling across my chest, my mind sharp and focused.

The hunt had begun.

I moved through the woods as silently as a panther on the prowl, each step calculated, each breath controlled. The dense trees cast jagged shadows in the fading light, their branches clawing at the sky. The crunch of leaves beneath my boots was minimal, drowned out by the ambient whispers of the forest.

In the distance, a shadow darted between the trees, barely visible. My pulse quickened. A shot rang out, sharp and deafening in the stillness. Instinctively, I dropped to the ground, rolling to my right, feeling the damp earth against my skin.

Gripping the handle of a pistol from the holster at my thigh, I popped to my feet in a fluid motion, leveling the barrel. My ears rang, but my senses remained razor-sharp. I fired short, controlled bursts, the muzzle flash illuminating the darkened woods for brief moments.

Samuel's return fire came just as quick. Sparks flew as a bullet struck a nearby tree, splintering the bark.

"Adjust your trajectory, fifteen degrees left," ALPHA's calm voice directed in my head.

I obeyed without hesitation, squeezing the trigger. The sound of my shots echoed through the woods, sharp and relentless.

Using the trees as cover, I closed the distance between us, weaving through the forest like a shadow. My movements were swift, deliberate. The gap between predator and prey was narrowing, and I was determined to emerge victorious.

I crept closer, my footsteps a whisper against the forest floor. Samuel stood with his back to me, scanning the woods for movement. My heart pounded as I tightened my grip on the pistol, ready to strike the back of his head with its butt. Just one clean hit to take him down.

But before I could make contact, Samuel spun on his heel with lightning speed, his leg sweeping low. His kick caught my ankles, and I crashed to the ground, the air forced from my lungs. The pistol flew from my grasp, landing somewhere in the dark underbrush.

Samuel was on me in an instant, but I rolled away, narrowly avoiding the stomp aimed at my chest. I sprang to my feet, fists up, ready for the fight.

"You've gotten better," Samuel sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. "But you're still predictable."

"Let's see how predictable I am," I shot back, launching into a flurry of strikes—quick jabs and precise kicks, testing his defenses.

Samuel deflected with ease, countering with calculated punches. His strength was overwhelming, but my speed gave me the edge. I ducked under a heavy swing and delivered a sharp elbow to his ribs, forcing him back a step.

"Impressive," he said, wiping a streak of blood from the corner of his mouth. "But it won't be enough."

I shifted my stance, centering myself. "We'll see about that."

The fight escalated, each move a dangerous dance in the dying light. Punches were thrown, kicks blocked, and counters exchanged. It wasn't just about brute force—it was about skill, precision, and the will to survive.

I pressed on, relentless, each step forcing Samuel further back. His boots scraped against the forest floor as I drove him beyond the tree line and into the open field. The autumn sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows that danced across the grass.

Samuel's defenses began to falter as I found my rhythm. I launched a quick jab to his jaw, followed by a hook to his ribs and a sharp kick to his midsection. Each strike connected with a satisfying thud, forcing him to stumble back further.

"Not so smug now, are you?" I said, my breaths quick but controlled.

Samuel smirked despite the punishment, wiping blood from his split lip. "You think you've won?" he rasped, his voice low and taunting. "You haven't seen anything yet."

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a sleek blade, its edge catching the fading sunlight.

"Typical," I muttered, shifting my weight, preparing for his next move.

Samuel lunged, the blade slicing through the air. I sidestepped just in time, grabbing his wrist and twisting hard. The knife fell from his hand, landing with a dull thud in the grass.

"Your tricks won't work on me," I growled, delivering a knee to his gut. He doubled over, gasping for air, but I didn't let up. I followed with a spinning kick to his chest, sending him sprawling to the ground.

He landed hard, clutching his side, but his glare never wavered. "You've got fight in you," he spat, struggling to his feet. "But it's going to take more than that to take me down."

"Good," I said, setting my stance once more. "Because I'm just getting started."

Samuel kept retreating, his steps faltering as I pressed on with strike after strike. Each connection fueled my confidence, and I could feel victory within my grasp.

But then, a blinding spotlight cut through the twilight, bathing us both in harsh light. The deafening roar of a helicopter's blades descended from above, kicking up a whirlwind of dirt, leaves, and debris.

"ALPHA, what is going on?" I shouted, shielding my eyes from the glare.

"Incoming aerial extraction. Identification: Consortium property," ALPHA's calm voice informed me.

Before I could react, Samuel recovered his footing and landed a quick jab to my side, momentarily throwing me off balance. He seized the opportunity, sprinting toward a rope ladder dangling from the chopper.

"No!" I yelled, charging after him.

Samuel leapt onto the ladder, gripping it tightly as the helicopter began to rise. He looked down at me with a smug grin, his voice dripping with mockery.

"Thank you for everything," he sneered. "Your husband sends his regards."

The words hit me like a thunderclap, freezing me in place. My husband?

The helicopter climbed higher, Samuel disappearing into the cabin. Snapping out of my shock, I grabbed my pistol and fired several shots at the retreating aircraft, but the rounds ricocheted harmlessly off its armor.

I stood there, breathless, watching as the chopper faded into the horizon, the sound of its rotors echoing in the empty field. My mind raced with questions, my heart pounding with a mixture of rage and confusion.

What did Samuel mean? And why had Jacob—my husband—sent him?

"ALPHA," I said, my voice trembling. "Track that helicopter. I need answers."

"Tracking initiated," ALPHA replied. "But I must caution you, Alex. This revelation may complicate your mission significantly."

"Good," I said, tightening my grip on the pistol. "I'm ready for complicated."