Ten seconds.
Kaelen looked at Echo, floating in the blue fluid. Her eyes were closed. Her dark hair drifted around her pale face like smoke. She looked peaceful. Dead.
He looked at Harlow. Cold. Waiting.
He looked at the enforcers. Twelve of them. Stunners raised.
"You have maybe ten seconds," Harlow said.
Kaelen's hand closed around the pearl in his pocket. The origin memory. The kill switch. The only leverage he had.
Five seconds.
He could give it to her. Echo would wake up. They'd walk out. Maybe. Or Harlow would take the pearl and kill them both.
Four seconds.
He could use the stunner. Take out two, maybe three enforcers before they dropped him. Not enough.
Three seconds.
He could—
He remembered the whisper. His past self, leaning close to Echo's ear in that hotel room. The words the memory hadn't captured.
"If you ever need to stop me, tell me one thing. Tell me: 'You are not a weapon.'"
Kaelen's hand relaxed.
Two seconds.
He looked at Harlow and smiled.
"No," he said.
He didn't reach for the pearl. He reached for the stunner — and threw it across the room. It clattered against the far wall.
Harlow's eyes widened. "What are you—"
Kaelen turned to the enforcers. "You heard her. I'm Subject 734. The prototype. The first memory thief." He raised his empty hands. "She created me. She created all of you. And she's been lying to everyone about what we really are."
One of the enforcers shifted. A flicker of doubt.
"Stand down!" Harlow snapped.
"She made you to steal memories," Kaelen continued. "But she didn't tell you that every memory you take leaves a scar. On you. On the people you empty. She doesn't see you as people. She sees you as tools."
The enforcer who had shifted lowered his stunner a fraction.
Harlow's face went red. "Shoot him!"
No one moved.
Kaelen took a step forward. "I was built in a lab. Just like Echo. Just like the bodies in those tanks. But I became something more. So did she. So can you."
He pointed at Harlow. "She's not your director. She's your jailer."
For a long moment, no one moved. The alarms still blared. The red lights still flashed. But the enforcers stood frozen, their stunners half-raised.
Then the one in front — a woman with close-cropped hair and tired eyes — lowered her weapon all the way.
"He's right," she said. "I've seen the files. The prototypes. The experiments."
Harlow's composure cracked. "You're all replaceable. Every single one of you."
"Then replace us," the woman said.
She turned and walked out of the room. One by one, the other enforcers followed. Their boots echoed on the tile floor, then faded.
Kaelen was alone with Harlow.
She stared at him, her pale eyes burning. "You think this changes anything? I built you. I can unmake you."
"You can try." He walked toward the glass tank where Echo floated. "But first, you're going to let her out."
"Or what? You'll kill me?" Harlow laughed. "You're a memory thief, Kaelen. Not an assassin."
He stopped in front of the tank. Pressed his palm against the cold glass. Echo's face was inches away.
"You're right," he said. "I'm not an assassin. But I am the only person who knows where the kill switch is hidden." He turned to face her. "And if you don't release Echo right now, I will destroy it. Every archive. Every prototype. Everything you've ever built. Gone."
Harlow's face went white.
"You're bluffing."
"Try me."
They stood there, locked in silence. The alarms had stopped. The red lights dimmed to normal. Somewhere in the building, footsteps echoed — enforcers leaving, or maybe coming back.
Finally, Harlow moved. She walked to her desk and pressed a button.
The glass tank hissed. The blue fluid began to drain.
Echo's body sank slowly as the water level dropped. When the tank was empty, the front panel slid open with a soft sigh.
Kaelen caught Echo before she fell. She was cold. Heavy. Her eyes were still closed.
"She'll wake in a few minutes," Harlow said. "Take her. Get out of my building. And if I ever see you again—"
"You won't."
Kaelen lifted Echo into his arms. She was lighter than he expected. Her head rested against his shoulder. Her breath was slow but steady.
He carried her to the door. Then he stopped.
"Harlow."
"What?"
"The kill switch. The memory of how you made us." He looked back at her. "It's not in the pearl."
Her eyes widened. "Then where—"
"It's in Echo. It always was." He stepped through the door. "You can't destroy her without destroying yourself."
He walked down the white hallway, carrying the woman who had waited five years for him to remember.
Behind him, Sabine Harlow stood alone in her circular room, surrounded by glass tanks full of sleeping ghosts, and for the first time in her life, she had nothing to say.