The sirens wailed.
Walls shook. Ceiling panels crashed down. Flames licked at the edges of the steel corridors as Alethea and Marco sprinted through the collapsing underground facility.
"Five minutes until detonation," the AI voice warned.
Marco shielded Alethea from falling debris as they turned sharply into a service tunnel.
"Where's the exit?" she shouted over the alarms.
"Lucien mapped a route—north chamber, then up through the elevator shaft."
They ran, boots pounding against metal. Every inch of the facility was unraveling—walls hissing steam, lights flickering.
But it wasn't just the explosion they had to outrun.
It was him.
From behind, a gunshot rang out.
Alethea spun—narrowly dodging a bullet that tore through a pipe beside her.
Dominic Van Dorne emerged from the shadows, blood trickling from his forehead, his tailored coat torn. But the look in his eyes?
Unshaken. Possessed.
"You think I'd let you walk out, daughter?"
"You don't get to call me that anymore," Alethea snapped, her voice burning with fury.
He raised a pistol.
But Marco was faster.
CRACKKKK! A single shot from Marco's gun disarmed Dominic.
"Touch her again," Marco warned, voice cold as steel, "and I end your legacy."
Dominic laughed—madness lacing every breath.
"You don't understand. She is the legacy."
And then, the walls behind him split open.
Smoke poured in.
And out stepped a girl—no older than 20. Pale skin. Violet eyes. Wires running down her arms like veins.
"Subject Omega-1," Dominic whispered. "Born from Alethea's sequence. Perfected."
Alethea froze.
She was looking at a clone.
Her clone.
But twisted.
"I was created to finish what you failed," Omega-1 said, her voice hollow. "And I will."
Suddenly, she launched forward with speed unnatural—aiming for Alethea.
Marco intercepted, blocking the attack—but Omega-1 moved like liquid shadow. She slammed him against the wall, then turned on Alethea.
Their eyes locked.
Same genes. Same origin.
But not the same soul.
Alethea dodged the next strike and kicked Omega back into the console. Sparks erupted.
"You want to be me so badly?" Alethea hissed. "Then feel my rage."
She grabbed a metal pipe from the wreckage and charged, engaging in brutal combat. Sparks flew. Blood spilled. Metal clanged.
In the end—Alethea stood tall, bruised, panting, but victorious.
Omega-1 lay unconscious beside her father's fallen body.
"This ends here," she whispered.
Marco limped to her side, bleeding but alive.
"Elevator—now," he urged.
They reached the shaft. Lucien's voice echoed in their earpieces.
"Two minutes left. I'm opening the hatch now!"
A wire dropped from above. They grabbed it. Ascended.
Behind them, the lab exploded in a fiery roar.
They made it.
They collapsed in the snow outside. Smoke rising behind them. Sirens gone. World silent.
Alethea looked at Marco.
"We survived."
Marco leaned over and kissed her forehead.
"You always survive. You're Alethea Vione. No one controls you."
She smiled—through blood and ash.
And somewhere beneath the rubble… Omega-1's eyes flickered open.
Snowflakes drifted down, painting the scorched earth white.
Alethea stood at the edge of the blast zone, staring into the smoldering ruins of the facility that once held her past, her pain, and her origin. Beside her, Marco was silent—his wounds now bandaged, his eyes never leaving her face.
"We ended something today," he said softly.
"And awakened something else," she replied, voice cold.
From behind them, Lucien arrived with two black SUVs, headlights slicing through the fog. He stepped out, coat whipping in the wind.
"We have a problem," he said without preamble. "Omega's body isn't there."
Alethea clenched her fists.
"She's still alive."
Lucien nodded grimly.
"She vanished before the collapse. She's untraceable for now—but we both know she won't stay hidden forever."
Alethea turned to Marco. "Then we hunt her before she hunts us."
Marco's jaw tightened. "We need to disappear first. Let the storm pass. Then strike."
---
Hours later, they were airborne in a private jet—heading for Switzerland.
The team had arranged a safe house in the Alps—high, remote, and hidden from any surveillance systems. It was time to regroup.
Inside the jet, Alethea changed into a black cashmere sweater and silk trousers. She sat by the window, staring at the clouds below, her mind replaying the fight—the pain in Omega's eyes, the desperation in her father's voice.
"He made her like me," she murmured.
Marco came over, kneeling in front of her.
"No, Alethea. He made her look like you. But she's not you. He can't replicate your fire… or your soul."
She met his gaze, her mask cracking slightly.
"What if she is stronger than me?"
"Then we get stronger together."
Their fingers intertwined.
---
Two days later – Swiss Alps.
The safe house was an ultra-modern glass villa nestled in snow-covered cliffs. Silent. Untouchable.
Alethea stood barefoot on the heated stone floor, sipping red wine, her thoughts still restless. Marco was upstairs, running tactical recon with Lucien. She needed air.
Stepping onto the balcony, she breathed in the cold mountain wind.
And that's when she saw it.
Footprints.
In the snow. Unmistakable. Not theirs.
She turned instantly, just as a figure stepped from the shadows of the trees—slim, cloaked in white, violet eyes glowing in the dusk.
Omega-1.
But she wasn't alone.
Behind her stood two men in all-black tactical gear. Unmarked. Armed.
"You really thought you were the only game, sister?" Omega said with a grin. "I have my own allies now. And we're just getting started."
Alethea stepped back inside slowly, her heart racing.
She reached for the wall—pressed the silent alarm button.
"Marco. We've been found."
The silent alarm triggered a red pulse that glowed beneath the floorboards. Within seconds, Marco stormed down the marble staircase, barefoot, shirtless, gun already in hand.
"How many?" he asked sharply.
Alethea's eyes were locked on the balcony.
"Three. Omega… and two men in tactical gear."
Lucien's voice crackled through the comms.
"I've activated perimeter lockdown. Reinforcements ETA twenty minutes."
"We don't have twenty," Marco growled.
A crash of glass.
Omega launched herself through the balcony, somersaulting midair like a white shadow. She landed in a low crouch, blades in hand, smiling like a goddess of death.
"Miss me, sister?" she hissed, eyes burning.
"Not even in my nightmares," Alethea shot back, lunging forward.
Steel met steel.
They collided in a blur of speed, blade to blade, sparks flying. Omega was faster, more agile—but Alethea had precision. Her movements were graceful, deadly, calculated.
Marco aimed at one of the men outside, sniping through the broken window with practiced calm. The first invader dropped with a silenced shot. Lucien emerged from the shadows, taking the second man from behind, slicing his throat cleanly.
But Omega wasn't retreating. She was toying with Alethea—testing her.
"You've grown stronger," she smirked. "But you're still not ruthless enough."
Alethea's blade nicked her shoulder.
"And you're still full of yourself."
The fight grew brutal. Furniture shattered. A sculpture cracked. Omega slammed Alethea into a wall, choking her—but Alethea's eyes gleamed with fury. She headbutted Omega, then stabbed her thigh.
"You were created to be me," she whispered, "but you'll never be me."
Omega hissed and backed away, blood staining her white coat.
Then, with a mocking smirk, she dropped a flash grenade and vanished into the snowy night.
Silence.
Breathing heavily, Alethea leaned against the wall. Blood on her lip. Bruises on her arms. But she was alive.
Marco rushed to her, cupping her face.
"Are you okay?"
"She got away," she whispered. "But not next time."
He wrapped his arms around her, fierce and protective.
"We'll find her. Together."
---
Later that night.
Alethea sat on the edge of the bathtub, steam rising around her. Marco kneeled in front of her, gently cleaning the wound on her side. His hands were steady, but his jaw was tight.
"She's coming for you again," he murmured.
"Let her. I'm not afraid."
"I am," he admitted, voice low. "Not of her. Of losing you."
Alethea reached out and touched his cheek.
"You won't."
They didn't kiss. They didn't speak. They just breathed—together, the storm outside mirroring the storm within.
TBC..................