The grocery store was louder than Ethan expected.
Carts squealed. A child cried somewhere near the frozen aisle. A radio played a song he didn't recognize, cheerful in a way that irritated him. Normal life. Too normal.
Ethan stood in front of a shelf, staring at rows of canned soup without actually seeing them.
His phone vibrated.
Once.
Then again.
He frowned and pulled it out.
LAMAX — SECURE LINE
His stomach tightened.
He hadn't meant to open that app.
He hadn't meant to still have it.
The ledger icon sat buried between harmless apps, its interface disguised, its presence quiet. He'd sworn he would never touch it again. But muscle memory was a dangerous thing. One wrong swipe. One careless tap.
The screen refreshed.
Profiles loaded.
Faces.
Names he didn't know.
Records that didn't belong to civilians.
Then—
One face.
Ethan's breath stalled.
The image wasn't grainy. It wasn't hidden.
It was clear.
Sharp.
A man staring directly into the camera, expression unreadable, eyes calm in a way that made Ethan's skin prickle.
The name beneath it meant nothing to him.
But the face did.
Somewhere deep inside his chest, something old stirred.
A memory without a shape.
A feeling without a reason.
I know him.
His thumb hovered.
The call button pulsed softly.
He didn't press it.
His phone slipped.
It hit the floor.
And called anyway.
---
The line connected instantly.
Too fast.
No ringing.
Just silence.
Then—
Breathing.
Slow. Measured. Unbothered.
Ethan crouched, heart hammering, phone pressed to his ear as shoppers moved around him, unaware they were passing through the moment his life tilted sideways.
"Hello?" Ethan whispered.
The breathing didn't stop.
Didn't change.
Then a voice.
Low.
Controlled.
Almost… familiar.
"You shouldn't be on that line."
Ethan froze.
"I— I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"
"I know."
That was worse.
Ethan stood slowly, cart forgotten, eyes scanning the store as if the man could be standing between the cereal aisle and the checkout lane.
"Who are you?" Ethan asked.
A pause.
Not hesitation.
Calculation.
"I was wondering when you'd find it."
Ethan's pulse spiked. "Find what?"
"You've always been curious," the voice said calmly. "Even when you were a kid."
Ethan's throat went dry.
"…Do I know you?"
A faint exhale. Almost a laugh.
"You don't remember much from the orphanage," the man said. "Most of you don't."
Ethan's knees nearly buckled.
"How do you know about that?"
Silence.
Then—
"I know everything about you, Ethan Cole."
The radio in the store crackled. The song skipped.
Ethan's grip tightened around the phone.
"You shouldn't be looking for me," the voice continued. "And you definitely shouldn't be calling."
"Then why are you answering?" Ethan demanded, voice shaking now.
Another pause.
This one heavier.
"Because," the man said softly, "you weren't supposed to recognize the face."
Ethan swallowed.
"But you did."
---
Somewhere far away, in a room without windows, a man sat perfectly still.
Multiple screens glowed in front of him.
Ethan's profile was open.
Updated.
Tracked.
The man wasn't surprised.
He'd been waiting.
"Listen carefully, Ethan," the voice said. "This is the only warning you'll get."
The line hummed faintly.
"Stay away from Evelyn."
Ethan blinked. "What?"
"And stop digging into things that buried themselves for a reason."
The call ended.
Dead.
No disconnect tone.
No error message.
Just silence.
---
Ethan stood there long after, phone still pressed to his ear, heart trying to claw its way out of his chest.
Around him, life continued.
Carts rolled.
People laughed.
Nothing had changed.
Except everything.
When he finally looked back at his phone, the ledger app was gone.
Erased.
Like it had never existed.
But in its place—
A single message notification.
Unknown Sender.
> You were never just an orphan, Ethan.
And you were never meant to find me this early.
Ethan stared at the words until his vision blurred.
Because for the first time since all of this began, the fear wasn't coming from Evelyn.
It wasn't coming from Helix.
It was coming from the realization that someone had been watching him long before Graywood.
Long before Project Helix.
Long before he ever knew his own name.
And whoever that man was—
He knew Ethan better than Ethan knew himself.