The next morning brought disturbing revelations wrapped in bureaucratic language and clinical terminology. I'd requested access to the complete project files, exercising my Cardinal authority to override standard security protocols. What I found in those classified documents made my blood run cold.
"Cordelia," I said quietly, sliding a particular file across our temporary office table. "Look at Section Seven."
She opened the folder and began reading, her face growing progressively paler as she absorbed the contents. "Termination Protocol Theta," she read aloud. "To be implemented in the event of project compromise, external security threats, or subject psychological deterioration."
There it was. The confirmation of what I'd suspected from the moment I'd seen how tightly controlled this facility was. Subject Zero wasn't just a valuable asset—she was a potential liability that could be eliminated the moment she became inconvenient.
