I. Đêm trước cơn bão

Bầu trời phía trên Fort Ridge yên tĩnh lạ thường, như thể cả thế giới đang nín thở. Emily Carter đứng một mình bên cửa sổ doanh trại, nhìn chằm chằm vào màn đêm bao la trải dài phía sau bãi tập. Cô vừa trở về từ nhiệm vụ thực sự đầu tiên chỉ ba ngày trước—vẫn đang hồi phục sau cơn adrenaline, sự hỗn loạn, và vị đắng của nguy hiểm—vậy mà, cô cảm nhận được điều gì đó lớn lao hơn đang đến.

Cô có thể cảm nhận được điều đó trong không khí, một sức nặng bao quanh xương sườn cô như những bàn tay vô hình.

Trong lồng ngực, trái tim cô đập đều đều – kiểm soát, mạnh mẽ, kiên định. Emily mới bước chân vào Học viện Westfield vài tháng trước với tư cách tân binh hẳn đã run rẩy dưới sức nặng của sự bất định. Nhưng Emily đang đứng đây lúc này? Cô ấy được tôi luyện trong lửa.

Cô đã đổ máu, đổ mồ hôi, chiến đấu cho từng tấc đất của mình trong quân đội. Và giờ đây, cô biết mình đã sẵn sàng cho một điều gì đó lớn lao hơn.

Có tiếng gõ cửa sau lưng cô.

Cô ấy quay ngoắt lại.

Đội trưởng Rourke—hàm răng sắc nhọn, đôi mắt xanh dữ dội, luôn tạo ấn tượng rằng ông đang gánh trên vai toàn bộ bí mật của thế giới—dựa vào khung cửa.

“Carter,” anh ta nói. “Phòng họp. Ngay bây giờ.”

Anh ấy không cười.

Ông ấy hiếm khi làm vậy.

Nhưng tối nay, có điều gì đó trong ánh mắt của anh khiến nhịp tim của Emily tăng nhanh—không phải vì sợ hãi, mà là vì mong đợi.

Cô vơ lấy áo khoác và đi theo anh, đôi giày cao gót nện xuống sàn với vẻ tự tin mạnh mẽ.
Dù nhiệm vụ này là gì, cô cũng đã sẵn sàng.

Hoặc cô ấy tin như vậy.

Cô không biết rằng những gì đang chờ đợi cô sẽ làm rung chuyển mọi thứ cô nghĩ mình biết về lòng trung thành, nỗi đau và số phận.

II. Chiến dịch Bức màn bạc

Phòng họp báo rộn ràng trong bầu không khí căng thẳng. Màn hình sáng rực trên các bức tường phía xa, hiển thị hình ảnh vệ tinh về những khu rừng rậm rạp, địa hình đồi núi và một cụm tòa nhà được đánh dấu màu đỏ.

Emily ngồi xuống giữa hai đặc vụ lão luyện. Cô có thể cảm nhận được ánh mắt họ đang nhìn mình—đánh giá, chất vấn, kiểm tra.

Cô ấy không hề nao núng.

Tướng Hawthorne bước vào, sự hiện diện của ông lập tức khiến mọi người im lặng. Ông đặt cả hai tay lên bàn.

“Thưa quý ông, quý bà,” ông nói, “chúng ta đang phát động Chiến dịch Bức màn bạc.”

Một bản đồ nhấp nháy trên màn hình trung tâm.

“Đây,” Hawthorne nói tiếp, “là Thung lũng Black Ridge, Đông Âu. Ba ngày trước, một máy bay không người lái trinh sát của quân Đồng minh đã ghi lại được những hoạt động đáng ngờ trong khu phức hợp bỏ hoang mà anh thấy ở đây.”

Emily nghiêng người về phía trước.

Căn cứ trông lạnh lẽo, vô hồn… nhưng bằng cách nào đó vẫn còn sống.

Hawthorne pressed a button.
A second image appeared.

Emily felt her stomach tighten.

Men in tactical gear. Unmarked vehicles. Weapons crates. Chemical cylinders.

“This is a rogue paramilitary faction calling itself The Sable Order,” Hawthorne said. “Brutal. Well-funded. Unpredictable.”

He turned his gaze across the room.

“We have reason to believe they’re developing a chemical agent. One more powerful than anything we’ve seen.”

Emily exchanged a glance with Captain Rourke.

“Your objective,” Hawthorne continued, “is to infiltrate, extract all intel, sabotage their operations, and get out alive.”

His eyes landed on Emily.

“This mission will test everything you’ve got, Carter.”

A murmur rippled through the room.

She didn’t break eye contact.

“I understand, sir.”

Hawthorne nodded once, as though approving the fire he saw in her.

Little did Emily know: the mission would test every limit she had—physical, mental, emotional.
And beyond.

III. Into the Heart of Darkness

The helicopter sliced through freezing night winds as it soared over the jagged outline of mountains. Emily sat strapped beside Captain Rourke, her fingers gripping her rifle, her breath sharp and steady.

Beside her, veteran sniper Elena Vargas cleaned her scope with slow precision.

“First major op?” Elena asked without looking up.

Emily nodded.

“Good. You’ve still got something to prove,” Elena said simply. “That kind of hunger keeps you alive.”

Rourke smirked. “Don’t scare the kid.”

“I don’t scare people,” Elena said. “I inform them.”

Emily let out a breath.
These were the kinds of operatives she admired—tough, brutally honest, carved from battle itself.

And she would stand among them.

No—I will surpass them, she reminded herself.

She would create a destiny larger than any doubt.

The pilot’s voice crackled through the comms.

“ETA: 3 minutes.”

The cargo bay doors opened, cold night wind blasting through the cabin.

Below lay a forest of blackened pines, their twisted silhouettes illuminated only by moonlight.

Rourke placed a firm hand on Emily’s shoulder.

“You ready, Carter?”

Her jaw tightened.

“I was born ready.”

He grinned softly. “That’s what I like to hear.”

The green light flashed.

They jumped.

Emily’s body sliced through the air, wind roaring in her ears, adrenaline exploding through her veins.
Her parachute deployed with a violent snap.

As she descended toward the dense trees below, a fierce clarity flooded through her.

This is my fate.
My mission.
My story.

No one will write its ending but me.

IV. The Silence That Hunted Them

They landed without incident and regrouped quickly. Night swallowed them whole as they pressed forward, weaving through brambles and shadows.

But something felt off.

Too quiet.

Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

“Movement,” Elena whispered, raising her rifle, eyes narrowing through the scope.

Emily froze.

Branches cracked.

A flicker of movement darted between trees.

Rourke signaled for silence.

Emily’s heart hammered.

Footsteps.

Heavy. Synchronized.

“Ambush,” she whispered.

Too late.

Gunfire ripped through the darkness.

Emily dove behind a fallen log, bullets splintering wood around her. The forest erupted in chaos—shouts, muzzle flashes, the metallic scent of danger filling the air.

She peeked out and locked eyes with a masked enemy operative leveling his rifle toward her.

Emily fired first.

He dropped.

Her breath trembled—she’d never taken a life in such close range before.

Rourke slammed into her shoulder.

“Carter! Focus!”

She snapped back—breathing steadying, eyes sharpening.

She was Emily Carter, forged in fire.

Not a rookie.

Not weak.

An operative.

An unstoppable force.

They fought through the trees, pushing forward inch by inch until finally—silence returned.

Bodies lay scattered across the clearing.
Emily lowered her rifle slowly, chest heaving.

“Good work,” Rourke murmured.

But his eyes weren’t on the bodies.

They were on Emily.

Studying her.

Evaluating.

And for the first time, Emily saw it clearly—

He believed in her.
Truly.

V. The Truth Buried in Stone

By dawn, they reached the outskirts of the abandoned military complex.

It towered before them like a steel grave—cold, rusted, but undeniably alive with hidden danger.

Emily’s gut twisted.

Something dark lived within those walls.

Something waiting.

Rourke crouched beside her, eyes scanning the layout.

“Carter, you’re point.”

She blinked. “Me?”

“You heard him,” Elena said, checking her weapon. “Your instincts are sharper than half the veterans on this team.”

Emily swallowed.

This was the moment.

Not assigned. Not forced.

Chosen.

Because she had earned it.

She nodded sharply.

“I’ll get us in.”

They slipped through a damaged ventilation shaft and descended into the maze-like interior. The deeper they went, the thicker the air became—humid, chemical, almost suffocating.

“What is that smell?” Emily whispered.

“Something we’re here to stop,” Rourke replied grimly.

They reached a reinforced door.

Emily approached the control panel—wires exposed, design archaic yet cleverly trapped.

A puzzle.

A challenge.

Her element.

She studied it, fingers hovering.

I create my own fate.

CLICK.

The door hissed open.

Inside, Emily nearly froze.

Rows of glass tanks lined the room—cylinders filled with cloudy liquid. Shadowy shapes floated inside.

Human bodies.

Or something that used to be.

“Oh God…” Elena whispered.

“It’s worse than intel predicted,” Rourke muttered, voice thick.

Emily stepped closer, throat tight.

Faces deformed. Skins blistered. Muscles unnaturally expanded.

Experiments.

Torture.

Madness.

Her hands clenched.

“We’re shutting this entire place down.”

But before they could even move—

An alarm shrieked.

Red lights bathed them in a hellish glow.

Then came the voice.

Calm. Cold. Mechanical.

“Unauthorized presence detected. Facility lockdown initiated.”

Emily felt her pulse spike.

“Run!” Rourke ordered.

Steel doors slammed shut behind them as they sprinted down the corridor.

But the real horror had only begun.

VI. Hunter in the Shadows

The facility’s lights flickered.

A hum echoed through the halls.

A sound too familiar.

Footsteps.

Slow. Heavy. Deliberate.

Emily’s breathing quickened.

Something was coming.

Not soldiers.

Not the masked operatives they fought in the forest.

Something else.

Something created in those tanks.

They reached an intersection—

And the creature appeared.

Seven feet tall.
Skin pale and veined.
Eyes empty, black pits.
Muscles grotesquely swollen.
Breathing ragged, animalistic.

It turned its head toward them.

Emily stepped back instinctively.

Elena cursed under her breath. “What the hell is that thing?”

“A failure,” Rourke whispered. “Or a success—depends on whose side you’re on.”

The creature growled—a sound like metal scraping metal.

Then it charged.

Emily fired, bullets ripping into its flesh—but it didn’t stop.

“Fall back!” Rourke shouted.

They sprinted through the maze of corridors as the monster barreled after them, smashing through walls and doors like paper.

Emily’s mind raced.

She couldn’t outrun it forever.

She had to think.

Adapt.

Choose her fate.

She spotted a maintenance panel sparking on the wall.

A plan formed.

“Rourke! Elena! This way!”

They turned the corner.

Emily skidded to a halt, ripped the panel open, and yanked several wires together—

Electric surge.

The corridor lights exploded in a shower of sparks.

The creature smashed around the corner—

And slammed directly into the electrified water spilling from a ruptured pipe.

Electricity surged through its massive body.

It roared—shaking the entire hall—then collapsed, twitching violently.

Smoke curled from its skin.

Silence settled.

Rourke stared at Emily.

“That was… brilliant.”

Emily exhaled shakily, adrenaline still coursing through her.

“I’m done waiting for fate to decide how I survive,” she said quietly. “I decide.”

Rourke’s expression softened.

“You’re more than ready for this world, Carter.”

But Emily wasn’t sure.

Because something inside her knew—

This creature was just the beginning.

VII. The Betrayal

They finally reached the core research lab.

Files. Hard drives. Samples.

Everything they needed to expose The Sable Order.

Emily moved to collect them—

When a soft click echoed behind her.

A gun.

Pointed at her back.

Emily froze.

Slowly, she turned.

Elena Vargas stood there.

Expression unreadable.

Gun steady.

“Elena…?” Emily breathed.

Rourke whipped around. “Vargas, what the hell are you doing?”

Elena’s voice was calm. Too calm.

“I’m completing the mission.”

“This isn’t the mission,” Emily said, heart pounding.

“Oh, but it is,” Elena replied. “Just not for the side you think.”

Realization crashed into Emily.

A double agent.

Embedded within their unit.

Elena’s eyes glistened with something like regret.

“You’re good, Carter. Better than I expected. If things were different, I might have liked you.”

Emily’s pulse thundered.

Not here.
Not now.
Not after everything.

Rourke stepped forward. “Put the gun down.”

“I can’t,” Elena said softly. “You don’t understand what’s at stake.”

Emily’s voice was steady, controlled.
“Then make me understand.”

And in the seconds that followed—Elena revealed everything.

The Sable Order had infiltrated multiple governments.
They had leverage.
They had power.
And they had Elena’s family.

“They’ll kill them if I fail,” Elena whispered, voice cracking.

Emily’s throat tightened.

This wasn’t betrayal born from malice.

It was born from desperation.

But before Emily could respond—

A new voice echoed through the lab.

“That won’t be necessary, Agent Vargas.”

Emily whipped around.

A man stepped out from the shadows—tall, elegant, dressed in black tactical gear.

The leader of The Sable Order.

His eyes locked onto Emily.

“Emily Carter,” he said. “We finally meet.”

Her skin crawled.

“You know my name.”

“Of course. You’ve become… quite the complication.”

Emily’s jaw clenched. “Good.”

He smiled thinly.

“You have something I want.”

“And what’s that?” she spat.

“Your mind.”

Rourke stepped in front of her. “You’re not touching her.”

“On the contrary,” the man said, raising his hand—

Dozens of operatives poured into the room.

Guns trained.

Emily’s breath hitched.

This was it.

The moment fate tried to corner her.

Break her.

But she didn’t break.

She never would.

VIII. The Last Stand

Chaos erupted.

Gunfire thundered.
Glass shattered.
Shouts filled the lab.

Emily dove behind a console, returning fire with sharp precision. Rourke tackled an enemy soldier, slamming him into a metal tank. Elena—torn by her choices—fired warning shots deliberately missing Emily.

The Sable Order leader moved with eerie calm, watching Emily through the storm.

“You are extraordinary,” he called. “But even extraordinary people fall.”

Emily gritted her teeth, firing again.

“No,” she said under her breath.
“I rise.”

A grenade clattered nearby.

“Down!” Rourke yelled, pulling Emily behind a steel crate as the explosion ripped through the lab.

Heat seared the air.

Smoke billowed.

Emily coughed, lungs burning.

The roof groaned overhead.

The entire facility was collapsing.

“We need the intel!” she shouted.

Rourke grabbed a metal case and shoved it into her hands.

“You’ve got it. Now move!”

But as they sprinted toward the exit—

Elena stepped into their path.

Her gun trembled.

“Emily… I’m sorry.”

Emily stared at her, chest heaving.

“Elena, please—don’t let them own your fate. Not your family’s. Not yours.”

Elena’s eyes filled with tears.

For a moment—just a moment—Emily saw the soldier beneath the fear.

Then Elena turned.

And fired.

But not at Emily.

At the enemy operative behind her.

Rourke didn’t hesitate—he grabbed Elena’s arm.

“Come with us!”

But Elena shook her head.
“Go. I’ll hold them off.”

“Elena—!”

“GO!”

Her scream shattered something inside Emily.

Rourke dragged her through the smoke-filled corridor as the facility crumbled behind them.

Gunshots echoed.

Then silence.

Elena’s silence.

IX. Destiny in Flames

They burst from the collapsing base just as a fireball erupted behind them, heat washing over their bodies.

The helicopter appeared overhead, spotlight slicing through smoke.

Emily fell to her knees, clutching the intel case to her chest, gasping for air. Her body trembled with exhaustion, fear, fury, grief—but her eyes burned with something stronger.

Determination.

Rourke knelt beside her.

“You did it,” he said softly.

Emily shook her head. “We did it.”

“No.” He touched her shoulder. “You led us out. You made the calls that saved lives.”

Emily closed her eyes.

Elena’s final scream echoed in her mind.

Rourke’s voice turned low.

“You can’t save everyone, Carter.”

She opened her eyes—wet but fierce.

“I know,” she whispered.
“But I’ll save as many as I can.”

Rourke nodded, as though her words carved themselves into him.

The helicopter descended.

Wind whipped around them.

Emily stood.

Back straight.

Eyes blazing.

Her destiny wasn’t written in training manuals.
Not in military files.
Not in fears or doubts.

She created it.

One choice at a time.
One battle at a time.

And this was only the beginning.

As she climbed onto the helicopter, holding the intel that could change the world, Emily Carter made a silent promise:

“Blood in the Fog” – Chapter Two

The night before Emily officially reported to Special Operations Unit Nine, she barely slept. A strange electricity pulsed beneath her skin—a mix of dread, anticipation, and something unnamed that kept pulling her thoughts back to Lieutenant Cooper.

She told herself it was respect.
Admiration.
Recognition of a superior officer.

But every time she replayed the memory of him saying “You were born to step forward,” something in her narrow world shifted.

By dawn, she forced the feeling down.
Fate didn’t wait for emotions.
And neither did war.

1. Arrival at Unit Nine

Unit Nine was nothing like Fort Stormwell.

There were no loud drills. No screaming sergeants. No frantic orders.

Silence ruled here.

A razor-cold silence that felt heavier than any combat gear Emily had ever carried.

The facility was buried deep within Outpost Arcadia, a classified base surrounded by forests so thick the morning mist never seemed to lift. It was said that not even satellites could see into the underground levels.

Emily followed a narrow steel hallway until she reached a reinforced door marked:

S.O.U-9 – AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY

Her throat tightened.

She swiped her card.

The door slid open with a low mechanical growl.

Inside, seven soldiers turned to look at her.

Not recruits.
Not trainees.

Operators.
The best of the best.
Ghosts of war dressed in human skin.

A woman with a scar across her jaw whistled quietly.
“So this is the rookie Cooper fought for.”

Emily stiffened. “Private Emily Hart, reporting for—”

A man with dark eyes and a cold grin cut her off.

“We don’t do ranks in here, sweetheart,” he said. “We do survival.”

The scarred woman flicked his shoulder. “Back off, Roarke. Fresh blood doesn’t mean dead weight.”

The team leader entered then—Captain Elias Ward. A tall, broad-shouldered man whose presence swallowed the room whole.

His eyes landed on Emily with unnerving calm.

“You’re Hart.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ve read your file,” he said. “Half of it sounds like fiction. The other half sounds like trouble.”

Emily didn’t flinch. “I intend to prove none of it is fiction, sir.”

A faint curve appeared at the corner of his mouth. Not a smile—approval.

“Good. Because you’re deploying tonight.”

2. Mission Briefing: Operation ECHO VEIL

The briefing room was dim, lit only by a screen filled with maps and classified files. Captain Ward stood at the front, arms folded.

“Forty-eight hours ago,” he began, “a reconnaissance drone over the Arkan Mountain Range went dark. We received one final transmission before it disappeared.”

He tapped a button.

A distorted image flickered onto the screen—a remote cabin tucked into snow-covered cliffs.

“These coordinates match the last known location of Dr. Elias Verdan.”

Roarke swore under his breath.
“Verdan? The AI scientist that vanished six months ago?”

Ward nodded.

“He wasn’t kidnapped. He defected.”

A ripple of shock spread across the room.

Emily’s pulse spiked.

“Why defect?” she asked before she could stop herself.

Ward turned toward her, surprisingly patient.

“Because he built something he shouldn’t have,” Ward said. “A predictive combat algorithm that can anticipate troop movements before they happen. If Verdan hands it to our enemies…”

He didn’t finish.

He didn’t need to.

“This mission is simple,” Ward said. “Locate the cabin. Recover the algorithm.”
His tone hardened.
“And if Verdan has handed it over—stop the exchange at any cost.”

Emily swallowed.

This wasn’t training anymore.
This wasn’t theory.
This was war whispered in the dark.

Ward’s gaze pinned her.

“Hart.”

“Yes, sir?”

“You will partner with Lieutenant Cooper.”

Her breath caught.

Cooper stepped forward from the shadows of the room. He wasn’t in dress uniform this time—he wore tactical black, every line of him sharper, colder, honed like a weapon drawn from its sheath.

His eyes met hers.

And the entire world narrowed to a single heartbeat.

Ward continued, unaware of the silent current sparking between them.

“Cooper will lead the infiltration. Hart, you’re point scout. Roarke, rear support. The rest of you form the containment ring.”

Roarke smirked at her.
“Try to keep up, rookie.”

Cooper shot him a look sharp enough to cut steel.

“She won’t have trouble keeping up,” he said evenly. “Worry about yourself.”

Emily felt heat rise to her cheeks.

Ward finished the briefing:

“Gear up. We head out in two hours.”

3. In the Armory: A Moment Out of Place

The armory was cold and echoing, the smell of metal thick in the air. Emily checked her rifle, secured her vest, and tightened the straps on her boots.

Someone approached behind her.

She didn’t have to turn to know who it was.

“Lieutenant Cooper.”

He stopped beside her, arms crossed.

“You’re nervous,” he said quietly.

Emily bristled. “No, sir. Just focused.”

He studied her with that same piercing calm she remembered from Fort Stormwell.

“You don’t have to lie to me, Hart.”

Her hands froze.

He stepped closer—not inappropriate, but close enough that she could feel the heat of him, steady and grounding.

“You think tonight is about proving you belong here.”
His voice dropped.
“But it’s not.”

Emily looked up sharply. “Then what is it about?”

“Making it home alive.”

The words hit her harder than the cold metal rifles lining the walls.

She whispered, “Do you think I can do this?”

His answer came without hesitation.

“I know you can.”

Her chest tightened. She didn’t know whether it was fear, gratitude… or something far more dangerous.

He handed her a small black band.

“What’s this?”

“A tracking link,” he said. “Attach it to your wrist. If anything happens, I’ll find you.”

Emily swallowed.

“Thank you, sir.”

He held her gaze for a long moment, something unspoken burning there.

Then he stepped back.

“We move in ten.”

4. Into the Mountains

Snow hammered against the helicopter windows as they flew into the Arkan Range. Wind howled like something alive. The world below was nothing but darkness, broken only by jagged cliffs.

Captain Ward’s voice carried over the comms:

“Ten minutes to drop.”

Emily exhaled slowly, tightening her grip on her rifle.

Cooper knelt in front of her, checking her harness.

“You’re shaking.”

“It’s cold.”

“It’s fear,” he said gently. “That means you’re sane.”

She tried to glare back at him but failed.

He finished securing her harness, his hands brushing her waist for a fraction of a second—barely a touch, but enough to send heat rushing up her spine.

His eyes lifted to hers.

“Stay close to me on the descent.”

Her reply came out softer than intended.
“Yes, sir.”

Ward’s voice cut in sharply:

“Doors open!”

Freezing wind blasted into the aircraft.

Cooper grabbed Emily’s shoulder.

“Ready?”

She looked into the abyss below them.

And stepped forward.

5. Descent Into the Unknown

The rope hissed under her gloves as she rappelled down the cliffside. Snowstorm winds hammered against her gear, threatening to spin her sideways.

“Hart, maintain angle!” Roarke barked over comms.

“I’ve got it!” she snapped.

Cooper descended beside her, movements precise and smooth, as if gravity had agreed not to challenge him.

They hit the ground hard.

Ward signaled silently: Move.

Emily took point.

Through the fog, the cabin emerged—half-buried in snow, lights flickering faintly inside.

Something felt wrong.

Too quiet.
Too still.

“Thermal scan shows one body,” Roarke murmured.

“One?” Ward asked.

“Just one.”

Giọng Cooper xen vào. “Hart. Đi với tôi.”

Họ rón rén tiến về phía cabin, vũ khí giơ cao.

Hơi thở của Emily trở nên mờ nhạt trong không khí.

Ba…
Hai…
Một—

Cooper đá tung cánh cửa.

Emily quét phòng.

Rõ ràng.
Ngoại trừ—

Một cơ thể đổ gục xuống bàn.

Tiến sĩ Verdan.

Chết.

Bắn chính xác vào giữa hai mắt.

Chiếc máy tính bên cạnh anh vẫn còn ấm.

Và trống rỗng.

Mắt Cooper nheo lại. “Chúng ta đến muộn rồi.”

Emily bước về phía cửa sổ. Tuyết rơi dày đặc bên ngoài—những dấu chân gần như không nhìn thấy.

“Có người đã ở đây,” cô thì thầm. “Mấy phút trước.”

Giọng nói của Roarke vang lên qua hệ thống liên lạc:

“Di chuyển! Sườn núi phía bắc—nhanh lên!”

Ward hét lớn: “Toàn đội, tập trung!”

Cooper nắm lấy cổ tay Emily.

“Hart—ở lại với tôi!”

Và sau đó—

Một tiếng súng xé toạc màn đêm.

Một giây.

Một phần ba.

Giọng Roarke nghẹn lại: “Đang đến—PHỤC CÔNG! PHỤC CÔNG—”

Tĩnh.

Cooper chửi thề. “Chúng ta bị gài bẫy rồi!”

Tim Emily đập thình thịch trong lồng ngực.

Thuật toán không chỉ bị đánh cắp.

Có người biết chính xác Đơn vị số Chín sẽ ở đâu.

Và họ đang chờ đợi.

Cooper kéo cô ra sau một thanh xà đổ nát khi những viên đạn làm vỡ tan cửa sổ cabin.

“Hart!” anh ta quát. “Nghe tôi này – dù có chuyện gì xảy ra, anh cũng không được phá vỡ đội hình!”

Hơi thở cô run rẩy.
“Thưa ngài, nếu chúng ta không kịp thì sao—”

Anh ta nắm lấy mặt cô, buộc cô phải nhìn vào anh ta.

“Chúng tôi sẽ làm vậy.”

“Làm sao bạn có thể chắc chắn?”

Giọng nói của anh ta trở nên thì thầm dữ dội:

“Vì số phận không kiểm soát bạn.”
“Bạn kiểm soát nó.”

Tiếng súng vang lên bên ngoài.

Tuyết tung lên như máu.

Và Emily Hart đã hiểu:

Đêm nay sẽ định hình cô ấy—

hoặc phá vỡ cô ấy.