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My eyes went first to the door—still sealed.

Then the windows—black, unbroken.

Then back to the terminal—no active indicators, no glow from its surface.

My hand was halfway to the sleeping room’s doorframe when a hairline thread of blue light appeared along the terminal’s edge.

Not the steady green of a standard notification.

This was a pulsed rhythm, too fast and faint for anything but a carrier wave.

The fine hairs on my arms stood up.

I activated the isolated display.

No network connection showed.

No sender.

No routing source.

Only one line appeared.

YOU CHOSE THE WRONG SIDE.

I stopped breathing.

YOU WERE DEAD. REMEMBER WHO BROUGHT YOU BACK TO LIFE, GHOST.

A third line populated.

Coordinates.

The building.

This building.

Current location.

Exact.

Then:

COMPLETE THE ORDER BEFORE WE COMPLETE IT FOR YOU.

For several seconds, I stood motionless in the dark.

Then training took over.

I disconnected the terminal from every active channel.

Hard separation first.

External feed.

Local relay.

Building network.