Third Anchor POV
The older man near the door stiffens. He presses a finger to his ear like he's receiving instructions, but no one is speaking.
The air in the room changes.
He leaves without explanation.
The navy jacket follows.
The woman with the tablet hesitates - then closes her device and exits.
They don't lock the door.
They don't need to.
Because someone else is already inside.
I don't hear them enter.
I just look up and they're there.
Standing by the window.
A woman dressed in black - not dramatic black, not theatrical - just… intentional. Long coat. Dark hair braided back. Eyes that feel too steady.
She shouldn't be able to bypass security.
But she did.
My heartbeat accelerates.
"Who are you?" I demand.
She tilts her head slightly, studying me like a diagram she recognizes.
"You were never meant to awaken this early."
The words hit like a dropped glass.
"What?"
Her gaze sharpens. "You're unstable."
"Excuse me?"
