Five years. Five years since König had vanished without a word. Five years since the warmth in your chest had turned to ice.

You traced the edge of the stolen drive in your pocket. The schematics. The serum formulas. Everything they'd done to you—to him—it was all there, waiting to be exposed.

A faint click from the window. Then another. Footsteps, heavy and deliberate, just outside.

You reached for the knife strapped to your thigh.

König.