Beneath the Billionaire Mask - Chapter 91: Chapter 91
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Safehouse Echo – Reintegration Chamber – 4:32 AM
The silence after the scream was deafening.
Elena lay motionless on the steel slab, her skin slick with sweat, her pulse thready beneath Adrian’s fingertips. The room still glowed faintly with severed code and fried circuits. Sparks hissed from the disconnected neural link, now darkened like a severed lifeline.
Adrian didn’t move.
He knelt beside her, whispering her name, over and over, like a prayer or a plea.
“Elena… come back. You’re stronger than this.”
Nothing.
Then—her fingers twitched.
A breath. Shallow. Then another.
“Liana!” Adrian barked.
She was already moving, scanning vitals. “Heartbeat’s faint, but stable. Neural disruption off the charts—but she’s alive.”
Adrian let out a breath that sounded like it cost him everything.
But then… Elena’s eyes fluttered open.
For a moment, they didn’t look like her eyes at all.
Too sharp. Too… aware.
She sat up slowly—too slowly—and stared at her hands like they belonged to someone else.
“Elena?” Adrian asked.
She turned to him.
A beat of silence.
Then: “What did you do?”
The voice was hers.
But the cadence wasn’t.
Liana’s face paled. “No… no, no, no. The tether might have fractured the barrier, not destroyed it. We may be looking at an overlap. A merge. Not of memories—of personalities.”
Elena—or the version in front of them—smiled faintly.
“I remember both lives,” she said softly. “And now I don’t know which one I want to keep.”
Adrian stood slowly. “You’re still you.”
“Am I?” she asked. “Or did you fall in love with the part of me that was built?”
The silence pressed again.
And then—she looked up sharply, her voice shifting.
“They’re coming.”
Adrian’s spine straightened. “Who?”
“Project Nightfall,” she whispered. “The others. They’re not asleep anymore.”
A siren flared outside.
Security breach detected.
Unauthorized activation: Node 03, Node 06… Node 11.
Liana’s voice cracked. “There were twelve Adrian Blackwoods. But only one was ever loyal.”
Adrian turned to her.
“I wasn’t the only one who survived.”
Safehouse Echo – Surveillance Wing – 4:46 AM
Rain slammed against the reinforced windows, but inside, it was colder than any storm outside. Adrian watched the security feeds stutter and blur—first flickering faces, then static—until all twelve monitors displayed one phrase:
“WE REMEMBER.”
Liana’s fingers raced across the console. “They’ve hijacked the broadcast frequency. They’re signaling each other.”
Elena—merged, uncertain, terrifying in her stillness—watched the screens with unreadable eyes. “It’s not just a memory recall. It’s a reawakening.”
Adrian clenched his jaw. “How many are functional?”
Liana’s voice cracked. “Five nodes online. At least three with high-threat classifications.”
“And they’re heading here?”
“No.” She paused. “They’re scattering.”
“Why?”
Elena finally turned to him, her voice hollow. “Because I’m the epicenter. And they’re afraid of me.”
Adrian blinked. “Why would they fear you?”
Elena’s breath caught. “Because I survived full reintegration. I’m not tethered anymore. I’m the first successful merger.”
Liana paled. “They don’t want to destroy her… they want to extract her.”
Adrian stepped in front of Elena instinctively. “They’re not taking her.”
But it was Elena who answered. “They won’t need to… if I lose control.”
The lights flickered.
A low-frequency hum filled the air—one that made Adrian’s heart vibrate in his chest.
“They’ve activated the fallback protocol,” Liana said, her fingers trembling. “Project Nightfall wasn’t just a cloning program. It was a failsafe for war.”
Adrian turned to Elena. “What aren’t you telling me?”
She looked up at him, the last trace of vulnerability gone.
“I think I was built to end you.”
Safehouse Echo – East Wing Vault – 5:02 AM
The moment the vault’s biometric lock hissed open, Adrian felt the static deepen. It wasn’t just in the air—it was under his skin, curling like fire in his veins. The hum from earlier had grown louder, now pulsing in time with Elena’s breath.
She didn’t seem to notice.
Or maybe… she did—but was no longer herself.
Inside the vault, Liana wheeled around the old prototype cores, the earliest servers once used in the CR-01 experiments. “These weren’t destroyed,” she muttered, eyes wide. “Adrian, they kept the original source code.”
Elena stepped forward. “That’s not source code. That’s residual command memory.”
Adrian looked between them. “In English?”
“They’re not just backups,” Liana said. “They’re failsafes. Contingency copies of personalities—entire identities stored like ghosts.”
“You mean… if one clone fails—”
“They reboot the next,” Elena whispered, finishing the sentence. “It’s not replication. It’s possession.”
Suddenly, the vault lights dimmed.
One of the servers began to blink—a red strobe rhythmically flashing with a warning.
Replication Host Detected. Neural Synchronization Incomplete.
Initiating Override…
Liana screamed, “Get her out of here!”
But Elena didn’t move.
Her eyes rolled back, and her knees buckled—Adrian barely caught her as she collapsed.
“Elena!” he called, shaking her, heart slamming in his chest.
But she wasn’t unconscious.
She was fighting—twitching, whispering under her breath, her hands clawing the air like she was trying to pull something out of herself.
Then her voice rose, splintered and strange:
“They want control back.”
Adrian leaned in close. “Then don’t give it to them.”
“I can’t stop the program,” she gasped. “But I can reroute it.”
“To what?”
She met his eyes, her voice shattered.
“To you.”
Safehouse Echo – Vault Core Shutdown – 5:04 AM
Adrian didn’t move.
Elena’s voice echoed in his head—“To you.”
“What do you mean reroute it to me?” he asked, cradling her against him. She was shaking, her skin clammy, breath shallow like she was being dragged under.
Liana was already yanking cables from the servers, sparks dancing across her fingers. “If the replication host is failing, the protocol will jump to the nearest viable neural imprint. She’s offering herself up as the firewall—but it’s only temporary.”
“So what happens when it reaches me?” Adrian asked, eyes never leaving Elena.
“If her override fails,” Liana said grimly, “you’ll become the next ghost. Just a body they’ll rewire.”
Elena’s fingers gripped Adrian’s collar with surprising strength. Her pupils shrank to pinpoints, but her voice was clear. Too clear.
“You said you’d choose me,” she whispered. “Then let me choose you now.”
The server hissed again.
Transfer Sequence Locked.
New Host Imprint Established: BLACKWOOD, ADRIAN.
Adrian’s veins felt like ice. “No—cancel it.”
Liana’s hands flew over the tablet, sweat beading down her brow. “She’s given biometric consent. I can’t override it without killing the core.”
“Then kill it.”
“I can’t!” Liana screamed. “That’s her brain, Adrian! That’s her neural signature keeping everything from collapsing! If we cut it—she might never come back.”
The red lights bathed the vault now, steady and ominous.
Elena trembled against him. “Promise me… if I disappear… you bring me back.”
His voice broke. “I will.”
Then everything went silent.
No alarms.
No humming.
Just her.
And then her body stilled.
Too still.
“Elena?” Adrian shook her, fingers trembling.
She didn’t respond.
But just as panic overtook him, her eyes snapped open—and glowed faintly blue.
“Elena?” he whispered again.
She smiled. Not the woman he loved.
Not the fighter.
But someone or something else.
And then she spoke.
“Adrian Blackwood. Sleepwalker Protocol complete. Awaiting mission parameters.”
Safehouse Echo – Vault Core Shutdown – 5:07 AM
Adrian froze, disbelief ricocheting through his chest as Elena—his Elena—stared at him with irises awash in electric blue. No warmth. No recognition. Just raw, calculated focus.
“Subject CR-01 online,” she repeated, her voice eerily flat. “Neural override 100% synchronized. Cognitive suppression in effect.”
“No…” Adrian whispered, touching her face. “Come back. You’re stronger than this. You’re not some weapon.”
Her hand rose and caught his wrist midair—not tender, but mechanical in precision. “Emotional interference detected. Threat level negligible. Reset recommended.”
Liana was already working furiously at the terminal. “She’s not gone, Adrian. The real Elena is buried beneath the code. But the longer the protocol holds, the harder it will be to pull her out without—”
A sudden surge of static interrupted her. The remaining monitors went haywire.
Incoming Remote Signal Detected
Node 09: Omega Directive Initialized
Command: Deploy CR-01 for target neutralization
“Elena!” Adrian shouted, grabbing both her arms, shaking her. “Listen to me. You’re not their machine. You’re mine. You’re you. You jumped into the fire to protect me. Now fight your way out of it!”
Her pupils flickered. A glitch spasmed across her expression—lips twitching, brows furrowing.
A whisper escaped her mouth.
“…Adrian?”
His chest tightened. “Yes! That’s you. Come back to me.”
She jerked back as if struck by lightning, body convulsing. “Protocol… conflicting… unauthorized… override…”
Liana shouted from the console. “I can trigger a failsafe—but it will wipe everything tied to the replication link, including the stored backups. If I’m wrong—she could lose everything. Her memories, her emotions—”
“I don’t care,” Adrian said hoarsely. “Wipe it. I’ll help her rebuild everything. Just bring her back.”
Liana slammed the key command.
A pulse of white light filled the chamber.
Elena screamed—not in pain, but rage. And defiance.
And then silence.
The lights died.
Adrian caught her as she collapsed.
For a moment, nothing moved. Then—
A faint, gasping breath.
And her voice, hoarse but alive.
“Adrian?”
He broke. “I’m here.”
She blinked at him, confused, tears slipping free. “Did I… did I hurt you?”
“No,” he breathed. “You saved me.”
She exhaled, eyes fluttering closed.
Liana stepped over, scanning them both, a slow grin breaking through her exhaustion. “Well… that’s one hell of a first date.”
6:15 AM – Safehouse Echo – Lower Medical Bay
Adrian refused to leave her side.
Elena lay in a narrow cot, an IV in her arm, vitals stabilizing on the monitor above her head. Her chest rose and fell steadily now—no erratic spasms, no sign of neurological misfire. But her hand remained wrapped in his, even as she slept.
“She’ll be okay,” Liana said gently, her voice thick with fatigue. “The failsafe broke the link completely. The clone replication node won’t be able to reach her again. Not without rebuilding the entire neural imprint from scratch.”
Adrian didn’t answer.
He just stared at her.
“Talk to me,” Liana tried again. “You’ve been through worse. Hell, you’ve done worse.”
Adrian ran a hand through his hair. “I was prepared to kill her,” he said quietly. “Not because I stopped loving her—but because I thought it was the only way to save her. That’s what this world turns people into.”
“No,” Liana said. “That’s what it used to turn you into. But not anymore.”
He looked up sharply.
“You hesitated,” she said. “You chose not to shoot. That wasn’t weakness, Adrian. That was the man she brought back from the ashes.”
A long silence.
Then, Elena stirred.
Her eyes fluttered open slowly, fogged with sedation—but undeniably her own.
“Still here?” she murmured.
Adrian let out a broken laugh. “Always.”
She smiled faintly, but then her face grew tense. “I remember some of it. The commands… the voice. Like someone else was piloting my body.”
He squeezed her hand. “You beat it.”
“No,” she whispered. “We beat it.”
Liana checked the console one last time. “We’ve destroyed the physical replication files. But…”
Adrian tensed. “But what?”
Liana turned the screen.
A new location had pinged.
NODE 12 ONLINE — REGION: TUNGUSKA, RUSSIA
SUBJECT CR-02: ACTIVE
Adrian and Elena stared at the blinking red dot in silence.
Elena’s fingers curled around Adrian’s.
“If I was built as a weapon,” she said softly, “maybe it’s time I choose who I’m aimed at.”
The silence after the scream was deafening.
Elena lay motionless on the steel slab, her skin slick with sweat, her pulse thready beneath Adrian’s fingertips. The room still glowed faintly with severed code and fried circuits. Sparks hissed from the disconnected neural link, now darkened like a severed lifeline.
Adrian didn’t move.
He knelt beside her, whispering her name, over and over, like a prayer or a plea.
“Elena… come back. You’re stronger than this.”
Nothing.
Then—her fingers twitched.
A breath. Shallow. Then another.
“Liana!” Adrian barked.
She was already moving, scanning vitals. “Heartbeat’s faint, but stable. Neural disruption off the charts—but she’s alive.”
Adrian let out a breath that sounded like it cost him everything.
But then… Elena’s eyes fluttered open.
For a moment, they didn’t look like her eyes at all.
Too sharp. Too… aware.
She sat up slowly—too slowly—and stared at her hands like they belonged to someone else.
“Elena?” Adrian asked.
She turned to him.
A beat of silence.
Then: “What did you do?”
The voice was hers.
But the cadence wasn’t.
Liana’s face paled. “No… no, no, no. The tether might have fractured the barrier, not destroyed it. We may be looking at an overlap. A merge. Not of memories—of personalities.”
Elena—or the version in front of them—smiled faintly.
“I remember both lives,” she said softly. “And now I don’t know which one I want to keep.”
Adrian stood slowly. “You’re still you.”
“Am I?” she asked. “Or did you fall in love with the part of me that was built?”
The silence pressed again.
And then—she looked up sharply, her voice shifting.
“They’re coming.”
Adrian’s spine straightened. “Who?”
“Project Nightfall,” she whispered. “The others. They’re not asleep anymore.”
A siren flared outside.
Security breach detected.
Unauthorized activation: Node 03, Node 06… Node 11.
Liana’s voice cracked. “There were twelve Adrian Blackwoods. But only one was ever loyal.”
Adrian turned to her.
“I wasn’t the only one who survived.”
Safehouse Echo – Surveillance Wing – 4:46 AM
Rain slammed against the reinforced windows, but inside, it was colder than any storm outside. Adrian watched the security feeds stutter and blur—first flickering faces, then static—until all twelve monitors displayed one phrase:
“WE REMEMBER.”
Liana’s fingers raced across the console. “They’ve hijacked the broadcast frequency. They’re signaling each other.”
Elena—merged, uncertain, terrifying in her stillness—watched the screens with unreadable eyes. “It’s not just a memory recall. It’s a reawakening.”
Adrian clenched his jaw. “How many are functional?”
Liana’s voice cracked. “Five nodes online. At least three with high-threat classifications.”
“And they’re heading here?”
“No.” She paused. “They’re scattering.”
“Why?”
Elena finally turned to him, her voice hollow. “Because I’m the epicenter. And they’re afraid of me.”
Adrian blinked. “Why would they fear you?”
Elena’s breath caught. “Because I survived full reintegration. I’m not tethered anymore. I’m the first successful merger.”
Liana paled. “They don’t want to destroy her… they want to extract her.”
Adrian stepped in front of Elena instinctively. “They’re not taking her.”
But it was Elena who answered. “They won’t need to… if I lose control.”
The lights flickered.
A low-frequency hum filled the air—one that made Adrian’s heart vibrate in his chest.
“They’ve activated the fallback protocol,” Liana said, her fingers trembling. “Project Nightfall wasn’t just a cloning program. It was a failsafe for war.”
Adrian turned to Elena. “What aren’t you telling me?”
She looked up at him, the last trace of vulnerability gone.
“I think I was built to end you.”
Safehouse Echo – East Wing Vault – 5:02 AM
The moment the vault’s biometric lock hissed open, Adrian felt the static deepen. It wasn’t just in the air—it was under his skin, curling like fire in his veins. The hum from earlier had grown louder, now pulsing in time with Elena’s breath.
She didn’t seem to notice.
Or maybe… she did—but was no longer herself.
Inside the vault, Liana wheeled around the old prototype cores, the earliest servers once used in the CR-01 experiments. “These weren’t destroyed,” she muttered, eyes wide. “Adrian, they kept the original source code.”
Elena stepped forward. “That’s not source code. That’s residual command memory.”
Adrian looked between them. “In English?”
“They’re not just backups,” Liana said. “They’re failsafes. Contingency copies of personalities—entire identities stored like ghosts.”
“You mean… if one clone fails—”
“They reboot the next,” Elena whispered, finishing the sentence. “It’s not replication. It’s possession.”
Suddenly, the vault lights dimmed.
One of the servers began to blink—a red strobe rhythmically flashing with a warning.
Replication Host Detected. Neural Synchronization Incomplete.
Initiating Override…
Liana screamed, “Get her out of here!”
But Elena didn’t move.
Her eyes rolled back, and her knees buckled—Adrian barely caught her as she collapsed.
“Elena!” he called, shaking her, heart slamming in his chest.
But she wasn’t unconscious.
She was fighting—twitching, whispering under her breath, her hands clawing the air like she was trying to pull something out of herself.
Then her voice rose, splintered and strange:
“They want control back.”
Adrian leaned in close. “Then don’t give it to them.”
“I can’t stop the program,” she gasped. “But I can reroute it.”
“To what?”
She met his eyes, her voice shattered.
“To you.”
Safehouse Echo – Vault Core Shutdown – 5:04 AM
Adrian didn’t move.
Elena’s voice echoed in his head—“To you.”
“What do you mean reroute it to me?” he asked, cradling her against him. She was shaking, her skin clammy, breath shallow like she was being dragged under.
Liana was already yanking cables from the servers, sparks dancing across her fingers. “If the replication host is failing, the protocol will jump to the nearest viable neural imprint. She’s offering herself up as the firewall—but it’s only temporary.”
“So what happens when it reaches me?” Adrian asked, eyes never leaving Elena.
“If her override fails,” Liana said grimly, “you’ll become the next ghost. Just a body they’ll rewire.”
Elena’s fingers gripped Adrian’s collar with surprising strength. Her pupils shrank to pinpoints, but her voice was clear. Too clear.
“You said you’d choose me,” she whispered. “Then let me choose you now.”
The server hissed again.
Transfer Sequence Locked.
New Host Imprint Established: BLACKWOOD, ADRIAN.
Adrian’s veins felt like ice. “No—cancel it.”
Liana’s hands flew over the tablet, sweat beading down her brow. “She’s given biometric consent. I can’t override it without killing the core.”
“Then kill it.”
“I can’t!” Liana screamed. “That’s her brain, Adrian! That’s her neural signature keeping everything from collapsing! If we cut it—she might never come back.”
The red lights bathed the vault now, steady and ominous.
Elena trembled against him. “Promise me… if I disappear… you bring me back.”
His voice broke. “I will.”
Then everything went silent.
No alarms.
No humming.
Just her.
And then her body stilled.
Too still.
“Elena?” Adrian shook her, fingers trembling.
She didn’t respond.
But just as panic overtook him, her eyes snapped open—and glowed faintly blue.
“Elena?” he whispered again.
She smiled. Not the woman he loved.
Not the fighter.
But someone or something else.
And then she spoke.
“Adrian Blackwood. Sleepwalker Protocol complete. Awaiting mission parameters.”
Safehouse Echo – Vault Core Shutdown – 5:07 AM
Adrian froze, disbelief ricocheting through his chest as Elena—his Elena—stared at him with irises awash in electric blue. No warmth. No recognition. Just raw, calculated focus.
“Subject CR-01 online,” she repeated, her voice eerily flat. “Neural override 100% synchronized. Cognitive suppression in effect.”
“No…” Adrian whispered, touching her face. “Come back. You’re stronger than this. You’re not some weapon.”
Her hand rose and caught his wrist midair—not tender, but mechanical in precision. “Emotional interference detected. Threat level negligible. Reset recommended.”
Liana was already working furiously at the terminal. “She’s not gone, Adrian. The real Elena is buried beneath the code. But the longer the protocol holds, the harder it will be to pull her out without—”
A sudden surge of static interrupted her. The remaining monitors went haywire.
Incoming Remote Signal Detected
Node 09: Omega Directive Initialized
Command: Deploy CR-01 for target neutralization
“Elena!” Adrian shouted, grabbing both her arms, shaking her. “Listen to me. You’re not their machine. You’re mine. You’re you. You jumped into the fire to protect me. Now fight your way out of it!”
Her pupils flickered. A glitch spasmed across her expression—lips twitching, brows furrowing.
A whisper escaped her mouth.
“…Adrian?”
His chest tightened. “Yes! That’s you. Come back to me.”
She jerked back as if struck by lightning, body convulsing. “Protocol… conflicting… unauthorized… override…”
Liana shouted from the console. “I can trigger a failsafe—but it will wipe everything tied to the replication link, including the stored backups. If I’m wrong—she could lose everything. Her memories, her emotions—”
“I don’t care,” Adrian said hoarsely. “Wipe it. I’ll help her rebuild everything. Just bring her back.”
Liana slammed the key command.
A pulse of white light filled the chamber.
Elena screamed—not in pain, but rage. And defiance.
And then silence.
The lights died.
Adrian caught her as she collapsed.
For a moment, nothing moved. Then—
A faint, gasping breath.
And her voice, hoarse but alive.
“Adrian?”
He broke. “I’m here.”
She blinked at him, confused, tears slipping free. “Did I… did I hurt you?”
“No,” he breathed. “You saved me.”
She exhaled, eyes fluttering closed.
Liana stepped over, scanning them both, a slow grin breaking through her exhaustion. “Well… that’s one hell of a first date.”
6:15 AM – Safehouse Echo – Lower Medical Bay
Adrian refused to leave her side.
Elena lay in a narrow cot, an IV in her arm, vitals stabilizing on the monitor above her head. Her chest rose and fell steadily now—no erratic spasms, no sign of neurological misfire. But her hand remained wrapped in his, even as she slept.
“She’ll be okay,” Liana said gently, her voice thick with fatigue. “The failsafe broke the link completely. The clone replication node won’t be able to reach her again. Not without rebuilding the entire neural imprint from scratch.”
Adrian didn’t answer.
He just stared at her.
“Talk to me,” Liana tried again. “You’ve been through worse. Hell, you’ve done worse.”
Adrian ran a hand through his hair. “I was prepared to kill her,” he said quietly. “Not because I stopped loving her—but because I thought it was the only way to save her. That’s what this world turns people into.”
“No,” Liana said. “That’s what it used to turn you into. But not anymore.”
He looked up sharply.
“You hesitated,” she said. “You chose not to shoot. That wasn’t weakness, Adrian. That was the man she brought back from the ashes.”
A long silence.
Then, Elena stirred.
Her eyes fluttered open slowly, fogged with sedation—but undeniably her own.
“Still here?” she murmured.
Adrian let out a broken laugh. “Always.”
She smiled faintly, but then her face grew tense. “I remember some of it. The commands… the voice. Like someone else was piloting my body.”
He squeezed her hand. “You beat it.”
“No,” she whispered. “We beat it.”
Liana checked the console one last time. “We’ve destroyed the physical replication files. But…”
Adrian tensed. “But what?”
Liana turned the screen.
A new location had pinged.
NODE 12 ONLINE — REGION: TUNGUSKA, RUSSIA
SUBJECT CR-02: ACTIVE
Adrian and Elena stared at the blinking red dot in silence.
Elena’s fingers curled around Adrian’s.
“If I was built as a weapon,” she said softly, “maybe it’s time I choose who I’m aimed at.”
End of Beneath the Billionaire Mask Chapter 91. Continue reading Chapter 92 or return to Beneath the Billionaire Mask book page.