Alfreda didn't sleep.
Couldn't.
The rain pounded the safehouse roof like war drums, and inside her head, memories crashed louder.
She stared at the Vault file in her hands. Her mother's name. Her father's. And Nathaniel's signature—marked beside a line labeled: "Asset Acquisition: Project 08 – Celia."
A deal.
A trade.
A fucking betrayal.
Nathaniel hadn't denied it. Not really.
Just turned pale. Just stared.
And said nothing.
That was worse.
She walked into the glass cell chamber. Celia was awake, humming again, fingers twitching in rhythm.
"You knew," Alfreda said flatly.
Celia looked up. Smiled slow.
"I knew you'd come."
Alfreda held up the file.
"This—this is real?"
Celia chuckled darkly. "It's more real than his loyalty."
She stood, stretching like a cat.
"I was a currency. Traded. Branded. Rewritten. And now…" She stepped closer to the glass.
"I'm interest, baby. All grown up."
Alfreda didn't flinch. "Why come back now?"
"Because I remembered. Everything. The experiments. The drugs. The voices in my head whispering Nathaniel's name like a lullaby while they cut me open and stitched me into something… obedient."
She leaned her forehead against the glass.
"They gave me orders to kill you."
Alfreda blinked.
"What stopped you?"
Celia's smile slipped.
"I wanted to remember love. Not just rage."
Silence.
Then Alfreda asked the question she never thought she would:
"Do you still love him?"
Pause. Then:
"No. But part of me wishes I didn't have to destroy him."
Alfreda whispered, "Then don't."
Celia's eyes gleamed. "Too late."
—
Elsewhere… in the underground catacombs of the Vault.
Nathaniel stood before a second hidden chamber. A deeper layer only his father's biometric key could access. And now, with his father's severed fingerprint and a code dug from memory, it hissed open.
Dust.
Cold.
And coffins.
Rows of them.
Each labeled: PROJECT 08, PROJECT 11, PROJECT 19…
Inside—photos, files, brain scans. Children. Teenagers. Some familiar. Most dead.
All trained.
Weapons.
Sold.
Like Celia.
And one file at the bottom—marked in red: Project 00: Alfreda Valez.
Nathaniel froze.
What the hell?
He flipped it open.
Blood work. Combat notes. Behavior mapping. Psychological thresholds. Timeline reports of implant testing.
Her whole life.
The last page: a signature.
Not his.
Her mother's.
The betrayal stung like acid in the eyes.
And suddenly, all the dots connected.
Alfreda hadn't just been born into the Widowmaker legacy.
She was made for it.
—
Meanwhile… at Widowmaker Headquarters
Celeste stood in her old bedroom, walls still lined with ballet ribbons and gun holsters.
Her mother entered with a glass of wine and no remorse.
"You've seen the file," she said.
"I was her test?" Celeste whispered. "Like Celia? Like me?"
"No," her mother replied. "You were perfect."
Celeste turned, eyes burning. "You sold my childhood. My body. My mind. For what? Power?"
"For survival," her mother snapped. "You were born to lead. And you will. But first…"
She handed her a knife.
"Blood must answer blood."
Celeste looked down. The blade was engraved with her father's initials. The man they said died protecting her.
Then her mother said, too casually:
"He's alive."
Celeste froze.
"No—he burned in—"
Her mother smiled like poison.
"That's what I told you."
—
Back in the safehouse…
Nathaniel stepped into Alfreda's room like a ghost.
She didn't look up from the window.
"You knew," she said.
He didn't deny it.
"I didn't remember the deal. Not until now. But it was my signature. It was real."
She turned slowly.
"My mother made me a weapon."
"I know."
"And yours?"
He nodded. "Built the arena."
They stared at each other.
Two legacies. Two lies. One fire still burning.
"So," Alfreda said. "What now?"
Nathaniel held up the file she hadn't seen yet.
"Your mother sold you before you were born."
Silence.
Then:
"I know."
He flinched. "What?"
"I saw it. Last night. I just—couldn't say it out loud."
They stood in that horrible truth, the kind that couldn't be undone.
That couldn't be forgiven.
Then, without warning, Alfreda stepped forward and kissed him.
Hard.
Hungry.
Not love.
War.
When they pulled apart, her voice was a blade.
"Let's burn them all."
—
Final scene…
Celia was alone in the cell.
Until she wasn't.
The gas hissed in.
She didn't panic.
Instead, she pulled a shard of glass from her sleeve.
And carved a symbol into her palm.
A coded blood rune.
The lights in the chamber flickered.
A hidden door opened.
And from the shadows—
Celeste stepped in.
No expression.
Just the knife in her hand.
The sisters stared at each other.
Celia smiled.
"Ready to finish what they started?"
Celeste's answer was simple.
"Let's give them something to fear."