Chapter 21

Chapter 21
The room was a cathedral to violence.

Cold steel. Grey walls. Fluorescent lights buzzing like a swarm of flies.

And him.

He stepped from the shadows, each movement calculated. A tall man, covered in scars. His right arm was a sleek prosthetic, the metal gleaming under the harsh lights. His face was a replica of mine, twisted with the passage of time, marked by pain and reconstruction.

"Estela," he said softly. "It’s been a long time."

I raised my gun, steadying it in my hands. "Who the hell are you?"

He smiled—something cold and reptilian. "You know who I am. You just haven’t wanted to admit it."

My heart pounded in my chest. “I’m nothing like you.”

“You never were.” His voice was low, full of a haunting, knowing calm. "But you're more like me than you think."

I hesitated, and he seized the moment.

He stepped forward, the light from above illuminating his metallic arm. “You were made to be the perfect prototype. The perfect weapon. You were my shadow, Estela. I was the first success. The original. Before they turned me into this.” He gestured to his mechanical arm, his body, his face. "I was Version One. But you? You’re my failure.”

“You were never my family,” I spat. “You’re just a mistake.”

“Am I?” he said, cocking his head. “I’m the one who broke free of their conditioning. I’m the one who escaped the chain.”

“And now you’re just another prisoner,” I retorted.

His smile faltered for a second. But only for a second. “I am not a prisoner. I’m the architect.”

"The architect?" I repeated, my voice hardening. "You didn’t make me. You didn’t make any of us."

He chuckled, the sound dark and hollow. “I planted the seed. They needed someone to refine it. To perfect it. You and I... we’re the same, Estela. You just haven’t figured out why yet.”

I shook my head, stepping back. “I’m not like you.”

“You think you’re different? Because you had a family? A child? Because they let you escape?”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know everything about you, Estela. About Marina. About the files you’ve been keeping. About what happened in Zurich.”

My stomach churned. “Stay away from her.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” he said, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “She’s safe. For now.”

That was when I saw it—the flicker in his eyes. He wasn’t telling the truth. Not completely.

“Where is she?” I demanded. “Tell me.”

"She's closer than you think."

And then the floor beneath me cracked open with a violent roar. A series of explosions shook the building. I heard Mateo's voice, distant but urgent, through the comms: “We’ve got company. Multiple hostiles coming in from the east entrance!”

I barely had time to react. He lunged for me, a blur of metal and fury, but I was ready. I sidestepped his attack, grabbing the edge of the wall and kicking off it with enough force to send him crashing into the steel pillars behind him. The explosion had knocked him off balance—but he recovered quickly.

He was faster than I remembered. Stronger.

And I was already pushing my limits.

I aimed the gun again, but before I could squeeze the trigger, a shot rang out. Not from me.

From him.

A bullet grazed my shoulder, and I stumbled back, feeling the burn of it sink deep.

“Not bad, Estela,” he taunted. "But you’re still the broken prototype. The one they didn’t trust."

I gritted my teeth, the blood from my shoulder staining the sleeve of my jacket. “I’ll never be you,” I hissed, rising to my feet.

He circled, stepping forward. “The difference is, I’m free. And you? You’re still stuck in their web. In their lies.”

“No. I’m done listening to you.”

My mind was racing. The explosion outside was escalating. Mateo’s warnings still coming in over the comms. Ryan’s voice was muted, frantic. We had only minutes—at most.

I couldn’t kill him. Not yet. Not like this.

But I could end him.

I dropped low, charging him like a phantom. He didn’t expect it.

With one fluid movement, I disarmed him, twisting the gun from his hand and forcing him against the steel pillar. I slammed my elbow into his throat, knocking the breath from his lungs.

“You’re done,” I said, panting.

For a moment, I thought he was going to fight back. His eyes burned with venom. But then he grinned again—weakly.

“Maybe. But you’ll never get out of here. You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”

I didn’t want to hear his words. I didn’t care anymore.

The timer on my wrist began to beep. The explosives Mateo planted were ready to detonate.

“Where are the others?” I demanded, pressing the gun into his chest.

“You think they’ll be safe just because you destroy me?” He coughed. “The ones that followed me? They won’t stop. And neither will he.”

I hesitated.

“The one who’s coming,” he whispered, almost gloating. “The real architect. He’s worse than me. And when he finds you... he’ll finish what we started. He’ll make you just like me.”

I stood up, feeling the pulse of my own fury. “No. Not anymore.”

I dropped the gun and pulled the detonator from my belt.

The sound of the explosion echoed through the facility. The walls shuddered. The lights flickered again, this time for good.

But as the building began to collapse, as everything around us began to turn to dust and debris, I realized something.

He was right.

This wasn’t over.

Not by a long shot.

And the war that had been set in motion all those years ago?

It had only just begun.