Chapter One Hundred Fifty-Four

Chapter One Hundred Fifty-Four
Victoria's POV
The hostages were traumatized. Not physically damaged—the Restoration had been careful about that. But mentally scarred from days of interrogation and experimentation.
I worked through the night, scanning each one. Repairing the damage done by consciousness probes. It was delicate work, exhausting work.
Emma was the worst. They'd pushed deep into her mind, trying to understand how someone so young could manipulate timelines. They'd ripped through her memories like vandals through a house.
"How bad?" Evelyn asked quietly.
"Bad. They stripped away her mental defenses. Mapped every corner of her consciousness." I pulled my hands back from Emma's temples. "I can repair the damage, but she'll remember everything they did. Every violation."
"Will she recover?"
"Eventually. With therapy. With time. With people who understand." I looked at Evelyn. "You should talk to her. You both survived Kelly's possession. Emma will relate to that."
"Kelly was different."
"Same principle. Someone forcing their way into your mind without permission. Taking things that weren't theirs."
Evelyn nodded slowly. "I'll talk to her."
The others were in better shape, relatively. The Restoration had focused primarily on Emma, using the others as leverage to keep her compliant.
"What did they learn?" Dante asked. "From Emma's ability?"
"Too much." I showed him my scan results. "They mapped her neural pathways. Documented exactly how her brain processes timeline manipulation. With this data, they could potentially create artificial ability users."
"How?"
"Neural implants. Chemical enhancement. Surgical modification." I felt sick saying it. "They could take ordinary people and force timeline manipulation abilities into them."
"Creating soldiers who can change fate." Grey had joined us. "That's terrifying."
"It's worse than terrifying. It's apocalyptic." I pulled up more data. "Natural timeline manipulators like us—we have built-in limits. Our consciousnesses can only handle so much strain before we burn out. But artificial users? They could push past those limits. Break reality itself trying to force changes."
"Then we destroy their research," Dante said.
"It's not at that facility. They have backups. Cloud servers. Multiple locations." I closed my laptop. "We'd need to hit every Restoration base simultaneously to ensure complete destruction."
"How many bases?"
"Twelve that I know of. Probably more."
Silence fell over the room.
"We can't hit twelve facilities," Beck said finally. "We barely survived hitting one."
"Then we don't hit them." Marcus had been quiet until now. "We expose them. Again. But this time with everything. Every crime. Every experiment. Every victim."
"The public already turned on them after our first exposure," Grey pointed out. "It didn't stop them."
"Because we didn't go far enough. We proved timeline manipulators aren't dangerous. But we didn't prove the Restoration is." Marcus started pulling up files. "I've been gathering evidence for weeks. Kidnappings. Illegal experiments. Murder. If we release everything at once, overwhelm every news outlet, every social media platform—the Restoration can't survive that scrutiny."
"They'll just deny it," Sarah said. "Claim it's fabricated."
"That's why we need proof they can't deny. Video evidence. Victim testimony. Their own internal documents." Marcus looked at me. "Victoria, can you get into their servers? Pull their files?"
"Maybe. If I had a direct connection to their network. But that means physically accessing one of their facilities."
"The one we just hit is damaged but not destroyed," Dante said. "They'll still have active servers there."
"You want to go back?" Evelyn asked.
"I want to end this. Permanently. No more running. No more fighting." Dante's voice was steel. "We go back, we hack their servers, we take everything they have, and we burn them to the ground with evidence."
"They'll be expecting us," Beck warned. "After the hostage rescue, that facility will be locked down hard."
"Then we hit it harder." Dante looked at each of us. "This is the final push. We either win here or we're fighting forever. I vote we win."
"Agreed," I said. The others echoed their agreement.
"Then we plan it right this time. No rushing in. No improvising." Dante spread maps across the table. "We hit them when they least expect it. During shift change. When security is transitional and vulnerable."
"When's the next shift change?" Grey asked.
"Eighteen hours," Marcus said, checking their stolen schedules.
"Then we have eighteen hours to prepare for the most important mission of our lives." Dante looked at Evelyn. "And this time, you're staying here."
"Like hell I am."
"Evelyn—"
"We've had this argument. You lost. I'm coming."
I watched them stare at each other. Saw the love and fear and stubborn determination on both faces.
"Fine," Dante said finally. "But you stay with me. The entire time."
"Deal."
The next eighteen hours were organized chaos. Weapons checked and rechecked. Intelligence gathered. Backup plans created. Contingencies for contingencies.
Emma approached me during a quiet moment. "Can I help? With the mission?"
"You need to rest. Recover."
"I need to feel useful. They took that from me. Made me feel helpless." Her voice was stronger than I expected. "Let me help. Please."
I studied her. Nineteen years old. Traumatized. But not broken. Not yet.
"Okay. But you stay in communications. Support only. No front-line work."
She nodded gratefully.
We were as ready as we'd ever be. Twelve people against a fortified facility. Terrible odds.
But we'd beaten terrible odds before.
And we'd do it again.
Or die trying.