Page 70 of Anders
No.She’d been here as Asset E5, gathering intelligence on the Sunburst Pack.
Approaching the outcropping cautiously, Etta scanned the area.Nothing seemed out of place—just rocks, scrub brush, the occasional twisted juniper growing stubbornly in the harsh environment.But her fingers traced the contours of the largest boulder with unexpected certainty, finding a narrow crevice that human eyes might overlook.
Inside, wrapped in waterproof material, was a small black case.
I don’t remember this,she whispered, even as her hands moved with practiced efficiency to retrieve it.I don’t remember putting this here.
But she had.During one of her blackouts, when the programming had taken over, when Etta the journalist had receded and Asset E5 had emerged to do the Chimera Program’s bidding.
The case opened with a soft click, revealing a compact surveillance setup and a notebook filled with her precise handwriting.Diagrams of the Old Packhouse.Guard rotations.Notes on pack dynamics.Security vulnerabilities.
A knife twisted in Etta’s gut as she turned the pages.
She’d done this.Methodically, comprehensively, she’d mapped out every weakness the Sunburst Pack had.Given Chimera everything they needed to destroy an entire community.
No.Her voice cracked with horror.No, no, no.
The notebook trembled in her hands.So thorough.So detailed.Pages and pages of information she had no memory of gathering.A catalog of betrayal written in her own hand.
With a strangled cry, Etta tore the first page, then the next, the ripping sound obscenely loud in the quiet.Her claws extended again, shredding the paper more efficiently as rage and shame poured through her.
Compliance required, a cold voice whispered in her mind.Asset will cease destruction of intelligence materials.
The command stopped her hands mid-motion.Her arms began to shake with the effort of resistance, caught between programming and free will.
I am not your asset,Etta snarled through clenched teeth.Not anymore.
Compliance is not optional.Asset will—
I said NO!She tore another page, forcing her muscles to obey her will rather than their embedded commands.Each shred was a small victory, a reclaiming of self.
By the time she finished, Etta was panting from exertion, surrounded by scraps of paper that fluttered in the gentle breeze.The surveillance equipment remained, and she stared at it with hatred and confusion.
What should she do with it?Destroy it?It might contain valuable information about Chimera, about what they’d done to her—to others like her.
A sudden warmth bloomed in her chest, unexpected and powerful.The mate bond, flaring to life after hours of silence.For a moment, Etta felt Anders as clearly as if he stood beside her—his determination, his relief at sensing her, his unwavering focus on finding her.
She grasped at the connection desperately.
The device at her neck activated with a vicious pulse, cutting off the thought with white-hot agony.Etta screamed, dropping to her knees as electricity surged through her nervous system, the bond abruptly severed.
When her vision cleared, she was curled in a fetal position on the rocky ground, the taste of dirt and blood in her mouth.The sun had moved in the sky—minutes or hours lost to pain.
And the bond was gone.Cold, empty silence where Anders’s presence had been.
Despair threatened to overwhelm her, but Etta pushed herself shakily to her feet.She couldn’t stay here.Couldn’t risk Chimera retrieving their equipment, couldn’t allow the device on her neck to give away her position.
Gathering the surveillance gear, she used rocks to smash it beyond repair, ensuring no signals could be transmitted.Then she continued onward, each step a deliberate choice to keep moving, to stay free despite the programming still fighting for control.
The sun was high in the sky when Etta heard them—the soft crunch of boots on forest debris, the subtle click of weapons being readied.Her heightened senses picked out three distinct heartbeats, approaching in a standard search pattern.
Chimera operatives.Hunting their escaped asset.
She pressed herself against the trunk of a pine, trying to control her breathing as they drew closer.They moved with military precision, communicating through hand signals rather than words.Each wore civilian hiking gear, but Etta recognized the bulge of tactical vests beneath their jackets, the too careful way they scanned their surroundings.
E5’s tracker shows she passed through this area,one finally murmured, his voice barely audible even to Etta’s enhanced hearing.Signal is intermittent but consistent with the neural interface’s decay pattern.
Spread out,another responded.She can’t have gone far in this condition.Dr.Mercer said the interface failure would cause progressive deterioration.
