We spent all day yesterday talking strategy. And bytalking strategy, I mean I got ganged up on by Reese and Sebastian while they tried to poke holes in every idea I had. But I poked holes right back until we landed on something that wouldn’t immediately get us all killed. Hopefully.
I met another Ascended, Mia, yesterday too. I liked her better than Sebastian.
What we agreed on was that we don’t have time to be careful. The longer we wait, the higher the chance Malcolm somehow finds out I’m Ascended now. And the second that happens? Game over. He comes for me because he knows I’d be his biggest liability.
So we decided to move fast. No frontal attack because that would be suicide. Reese’s resistance is strong, but Malcolm has numbers. And power. The kind you don’t beat by kicking in the front door and hoping for the best.
So we’re doing it my way, quiet and surgical.
Which is why I’m the only one here, early as fuck, beforeMalcolm usually gets in.
As I make my way inside through one of the side entrances, I notice that security is tighter than it used to be. I almost smile because it’s not like it matters. The doors slide open without resistance, the building’s systems lighting up in my head like a map. Cameras, keycards, internal networks humming beneath it all. I leave a trail of looping security footage behind me.
No one stops me. No one even looks twice. Why would they?
I’m Cason fucking Bellrose.
The elevator takes me down into the lower level. The server room is colder than I remember. Rows and rows of machines blink steadily like they’re breathing, like they’re alive.
“Okay,” I whisper as I let the door close behind me. “Let’s ruin my uncle’s day.”
I walk straight toward the nearest terminal, then I stop, realizing I don’t need it. Instead, I reach out, pressing my palm flat against one of the server racks. The connection is instant. Data unfolds in my head like it belongs there alongside my own memories. Files, directories, security layers that don’t even register as obstacles.
I’m inside.
“Holy shit.”
It’s overwhelming howeasyit is. I don’t have to navigate. I justknow.
There’s so much in here that I’ve never seen before. I’m pressed for time, but curiosity gets the better of me, so I go straight to the files I want to see.
BELLROSE, CASON
Status: RECOVERED
Yeah, only after seven years.
My jaw tightens, and I pull up the next file.
MORGAN, REESE
Status: DECEASED
That almost makes me laugh. But then I sense something hidden beneath it, like a secret directory that no one would be able to see unless they knew it was there. Of course, I’m not just anyone.
In a hidden file, details are changed.
Status: ASCENDED
Then I dig deeper, and there are more. Hundreds. Over a thousand of them. Names, profiles, test subjects.Ascended. People Malcolm has catalogued, tracked, experimented on, and killed or owned.
My stomach twists, but I don’t stop. I can’t. I keep going, pulling everything I can, compressing it, storing it. Not in a drive, but inme. It’s like building a second brain in real time, data folding in on itself, slotting into place until I’m carrying more information than I should physically be able to hold.
Once I have everything backed up in a little flash drive inside my mind, I start tearing things apart. Files corrupt, systems glitch. Access logs rewrite themselves into nonsense. Protocols unravel under my hands like thread being yanked loose.
It’s easy and deeply satisfying.
But then warnings start flashing. They’re not in the room with me but somewhere deeper in the system.
