Ghost from the Past

I leaned against the rough bark of a pine tree, gasping for air. The forest was dark, the only light coming from the glowing screen of my phone.

Dante.

He was alive.

The relief hit me first, a wave so strong it almost buckled my knees. But then came the fury. The confusion.

If he was alive, why hadn't he contacted me? Why was he sitting in that room with Lucius? And why was my sister, the woman I had buried, lying in a hospital bed next to them?

I looked at the photo again. Dante’s face was turned away from the camera, his profile sharp against the sterile white wall. He wasn't tied up. He wasn't restrained.

He was just... sitting there.

"Felix," I whispered into the phone, even though the line was dead. "I need extraction. Now."

But Felix was gone. The van was gone. I was alone in the woods with a prototype railgun and a heart full of broken glass.

I checked the charge on the weapon. 98%. One shot.

It was enough to breach a wall. Or stop a heart.

I started moving again, my boots crunching on the fallen leaves. San Lazaro was a fortress of rot and decay, abandoned since the outbreak ten years ago. It was the perfect place for a man like Lucius. A place where death was already in the walls.

I reached the perimeter fence. It was rusted, overgrown with ivy. I found a weak spot and slipped through, the metal snagging my tactical vest.

The hospital loomed ahead, a massive concrete skeleton against the night sky. Windows were shattered, doors boarded up. But on the third floor, a single light burned.

I knew that room. I had seen it on the feed.

I moved toward the service entrance, my senses on high alert. No guards. No cameras. It was too easy.

*A trap designed specifically for you.*

I slipped inside. The air was stale, smelling of mold and old antiseptic. I climbed the stairs, my footsteps silent on the concrete.

Third floor.

I reached the hallway. The light spilled out from under a door at the far end.

I raised the railgun.

I walked toward the light. Every step was a battle. Every instinct screamed at me to run, to regroup, to find another way.

But there was no other way. My sister was in that room. And the man I loved.

I reached the door. I put my hand on the handle.

"Come in, Aria," Lucius’s voice called out from inside. "We've been waiting."

I kicked the door open.

The room was exactly as it had been on the screen. The bed. The machines. Elena, pale and still.

Lucius stood by the window, a silhouette against the city lights.

And Dante sat in the chair.

He looked up as I entered. His eyes were dark, haunted. He didn't smile. He didn't speak.

"Dante," I whispered, the railgun wavering in my hands.

"He can't hear you," Lucius said, turning to face me. "Or rather, he can hear you, but he can't answer. Not the way you want."

I looked at Dante. There was a small, blinking device attached to his temple. A neural inhibitor.

"What did you do to him?" I demanded, aiming the railgun at Lucius’s chest.

"I gave him a choice," Lucius said, spreading his hands. "Just as I'm going to give you one."

He walked over to the bed. He placed a hand on Elena’s forehead.

"Your sister is alive, Aria. But only just. The toxin in her system is slow, painful. There is an antidote. But there is only one dose."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small glass vial. The liquid inside glowed a faint, ominous blue.

"And here is the dilemma," Lucius said, smiling. "Dante has the same toxin in his veins. Injected ten minutes ago."

My breath caught in my throat.

"One dose," Lucius repeated. "Two patients."

He set the vial on the bedside table.

"You have the key, Aria. Give it to me, and you can choose who lives."

I looked at Elena. My sister. My blood. The innocent victim in all of this.

Then I looked at Dante. The man who had saved me. The man who had sacrificed everything for the mission.

"And if I refuse?" I asked, my voice trembling.

Lucius shrugged. "Then they both die. And I take the key from your corpse."

He stepped back, gesturing to the vial.

"Choose, Aria. The past... or the future?"

I looked at the vial. Then I looked at the railgun in my hands.

One shot.

I couldn't save them both. Not with the antidote.

But maybe I could save them with a bullet.

I raised the weapon.

"I choose," I said.

And I pulled the trigger.