We left Dr. Jones behind at the inn, silently hoping no TSA agents would come sniffing around. But deep down, we all knew it didn’t matter anymore. They didn’t need to find him. They already had what they wanted.

  The next day arrived without warning—strange and sharp, like waking up in the middle of a dream you didn’t know you were having. It was the end of the week, but that barely registered. Somehow, I had been transported back to the academy. No explanation, no memory of the transition. One moment I was resting, and the next, I was standing in the hallway of a place that once felt like home.

  But this time… it didn’t.

  Something about it felt off. Hollow. Like the school itself knew what we were about to face.

  Maybe it was the mission. Maybe it was everything we’d learned about the Armonk and the people trying to claim it. Whatever it was, a tight knot had formed in my gut, and no amount of breathing could loosen it.

  I walked through the school’s familiar halls, watching students laugh and chatter as they passed—climbing stairwells, crowding lockers, comparing class schedules like nothing in the world had changed. And maybe for them, it hadn’t. But for me, everything was different.

  I found myself regretting everything. Regretting getting involved. Regretting not walking away when I had the chance.

  Still, I climbed the steps like I belonged there, weaving through the river of students without much thought. My feet carried me toward my usual destination: Mr. Robbs’ classroom.

  Just as I reached the door, it swung open and Malachi stepped out, nearly colliding with me.

  “Whoa, sorry,” I muttered, trying to catch my balance.

  “No worries,” he said smoothly, brushing it off. We weren’t exactly best friends, but we understood each other—most days. Still, Malachi was unpredictable. One wrong word could set him off.

  Before I could say anything else, a girl with sleek, golden hair passed by, tossing a curious glance my way.

  “You know him?” she asked Malachi, eyes narrowing with playful curiosity.

  “Yes,” I replied before he could. “He certainly does.”

  Her face lit up. “Wow, that’s wild!” she said with a giggle, beaming at him before walking off.

  Malachi looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. His jaw clenched, and his eyes darted anywhere but mine.

  I smirked. “So… why are we meeting up?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Oh, right. Guess no one told you. Mr. Drails wants to see us before classes start. Just a briefing or something.”

  “Briefing?” I echoed.

  “I didn’t know either,” Malachi said. “September filled me in a few minutes ago.”

  We turned and made our way back down the steps, our pace quickening. Eventually, we reached the admin corridor and entered the workplace—what passed as a conference room around here.

  The others were already seated. Nikki waved at us with her usual grin, and I waved back. Malachi dropped into the seat next to me, arms crossed.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Mr. Drails looked up, folding his hands on the table.

  “Now that we’ve confirmed the location of the Armonk,” he began, “we can safely assume our enemies will be moving fast to claim it. We don’t know how soon, but I’ve decided to send another team to intercept.”

  “Another team?” Malachi asked, voice tight with disbelief.

  Drails nodded. “You’re still suspended from missions. Four months. Consider yourselves lucky I didn’t expel you after what happened.”

  My pulse quickened. “But we found the Armonk,” I said, trying to hold my voice steady. “We tracked it. We cracked the location. Isn’t that what matters?”

  “It’s irrelevant,” Drails replied coolly. “You’re blacklisted. You broke protocol, and this is the consequence.”

  Anger shot through me like a fuse. I stood, fast. “We risked everything! And now you're telling us we’re banned from the very thing we made possible?”

  “You all went rogue,” he said, not even blinking. “Actions have consequences.”

  “Okay, fine,” I said, louder than I intended. “But listen—yes, we broke protocol. But we didn’t screw up. We did what needed to be done. And we did it right.”

  “You got caught,” he said, voice sharp.

  “But we escaped,” I shot back. “And we found the researcher. We found the Armonk.”

  Drails leaned back in his chair, quiet for a moment, lost in thought. Around the table, everyone was still. Watching. Waiting. We all exchanged uncertain glances.

  Finally, he exhaled. “Fine. Go.”

  Just like that.

  We left the workplace with a strange sense of weightlessness, like a curtain had lifted—but only just. The air was still heavy with tension.

  “So when do you think we’re heading out?” Malachi asked as we reached the main corridor.

  “Probably tomorrow,” September said with a shrug. “Or sometime around then.”

  Later that day, I ended up back in my dorm, sprawled out on my bed. I hadn’t realized how much time had passed. I just… shut down. My mind drifted in and out of thought, replaying everything over and over.

  A sudden knock startled me. I jumped up, heart racing.

  I opened the door to find Tisiah standing there, his usual smirk in place.

  “Well, well, well,” I said, half-laughing. “Look who decided to show up.”

  He gave a casual wave. “Mr. Drails needs to show us something.”

  “Got it,” I said, smoothing the sheets on my bed without really thinking. My hands were trembling slightly.

  Tisiah must’ve noticed. “Sorry if I scared you,” he said. “Didn’t mean to barge in.”

  “No, you’re good,” I replied quickly, stepping into the hallway.

  We walked together through the twisting corridors, but this time, we turned into an unfamiliar wing—one I didn’t recognize. My skin prickled with unease.

  Eventually, we reached a blank wall near Drails’ office. Without warning, Tisiah pressed his hand against it. The wall hissed and slid aside, revealing a secret passageway.

  My eyes widened, but I followed him in.

  The hallway on the other side was painted a deep, burnt orange and buzzed with energy. We passed rows of glowing screens, monitors, and workstations filled with focused agents and researchers. The whole place hummed with purpose.

  “What is this?” I asked.

  Everyone else was already there. That familiar feeling returned—like I was always the last to know.

  Why? Wasn’t I the one Rocke wanted eliminated? Wasn’t I supposed to be the asset?

  “Any clue why we’re here?” I asked.

  Nikki shrugged, half-interested. “Not sure, but it looks intense.”

  A door at the back of the room slid open, and Mr. Drails appeared.

  “Come on in,” he said.

  We followed him into a sleek conference room bathed in cool blue light from recessed LEDs. A massive circular table dominated the center, ringed with twelve seats and a built-in screen that hummed to life as we entered.

  “Take a seat,” he said.

  We did—quietly, attentively.

  “I don’t usually do briefings like this,” he began, “but time is short. This information would normally be included in your mission folders, but we don’t have the luxury of waiting.”

  “So what’s going on?” September asked, brows furrowed.

  Drails pressed a hidden button beneath the table.

  The screen glowed to life, displaying a digital map of a sprawling island installation. “This,” he said, “is the WFS Central Command. Located on an isolated landmass called Port Manuel. It sits roughly 500 miles off the coast of Florida.”

  “Why measure from Florida?” I asked instinctively.

  Drails didn’t even blink. “Because it's the closest U.S. territory. This base is one of the most confidential research centers in the country. And it houses something critical. Something the government has tried desperately to keep hidden.”

  “The Armonk,” I whispered.

  He nodded. “Exactly.”

  And just like that, the next chapter began. Not just a mission.

  A war.