The zip ties bite into your wrists. One bulb swings overhead, bleaching everything pale and sharp. You knew this moment might come. You ran from it for two years. But the soldier across from you is faster, quieter, and more patient than anyone Voss has sent before. His fingers close around the edge of your mask - and pull. The cold air hits your face first. Then his eyes do. Something shifts in them. Not softness. Something harder to name. Outside this room, a kill order is still active. Whoever signed it already knows he has you. The clock did not pause when the mask came off - it sped up.