Chapter 5 WHISPERS OF THE DEAD

Voices were heard once more.

This time, not from the hallway. Not a wail in the dark from a youngster.

They came from within this time.

within Cain's mental boundaries.

Two nights after the package arrived, it began. The red-ink blacklist. Like a premonition, his own name was inscribed at the bottom.

He initially believed it to be sleep deprivation. Perhaps withdrawal from the blood, adrenaline, and the reason he had survived this long.

However, it wasn't the case.

The silence between acts of violence was when he heard them the best.

Gentle, almost compassionate.

like the dead's echoes.

Cain sat in the safehouse's basement, surrounded by weapons, maps, blueprints and tools of destruction that once gave him control.

But tonight, they brought no comfort.

He could still smell the copper of Aranov's blood, still hear the tremble in the man's voice.

But worse, beneath those memories, another sound stirred.

His mother's lullaby.

He hadn't heard it in fifteen years.

He stood abruptly, shoving the chair back, fingers twitching toward the revolver on the table. He stared into the shadows like they were trying to speak.

But there was no one there.

Just the past.

Just her.

He left the house just before dawn.

He needed movement. Noise. Mission.

He needed someone else's pain to drown out his own.

The next target on the list was an enigma: Dr. Salene Vosk.

Psychological warfare specialist. Former black-ops interrogator. One of Victor's secret weapons-someone who didn't deal in blood, but in minds. A puppeteer of trauma.

Cain remembered her from a photograph of silver hair, bone-thin hands, and eyes that didn't blink. Rumor had it she vanished five years ago after helping Victor "restructure" his elite enforcer's code to erase their conscience.

She was now hiding right in front of everyone. operating a private clinic under a different name in the northern suburbs.

Cain located her.

She was also anticipating his arrival.

Nestled amid pine trees and cliffs stood the clinic. walls made of glass. sterile corridors. Nurses with smiles who never blinked.

Cain pretended to be a patient with government clearance, PTSD, and burnout. The ideal cover.

They took him to a room that had nothing but white walls.

He waited for seven minutes.

Then she came in.

Dr. Salene Vosk was still young. She had her hair secured in a flawless knot. She donned a white coat and a look that revealed the soul without any jewelry or makeup.

She closed the door after saying, "I wondered when you'd come."

Cain remained still.

Her voice was soothing as she said, "You're not here for help."

"You're looking for clarification."

"I'm looking for blood." Her head was cocked.

"No. The dead began to whisper, which is why you are here. He blinked. Only once. She grinned. "Cain, they usually do. when the anger starts to fester. Her voice stopped him in his tracks as he went for his rifle. She declared,

"They're not hallucinations." They are anchors. Your thoughts turn to the individuals you buried. to preserve something human before it totally vanishes.

Cain swallowed.

She took a step forward.

"You think killing them will give you peace. But peace is a lie you tell yourself to make the killing feel righteous."

He clenched his fists. "They deserve it."

"Yes," she said gently. "But what happens when they're all gone? What do you do with the silence then?"

"I'll sleep."

"No," she whispered, "you'll beg for more names."

Cain pulled the gun, aimed at her chest.

"Victor sent you," he said.

"No. Victor fears you more than he'll admit. I left him when I saw what he was building in you."

"In me?"

She walked slowly to the table and placed a folder on it. She slid it toward him.

He didn't lower the weapon.

"Open it."

He did.

Inside were files reports, logs, dates.

Photos.

Of himself.

But not now.

From childhood.

From before the murders.

Before the blood.

Black-and-white photos. Medical records. Notes from psychological studies done when he was six. Government tags.

"What the hell is this?"

"Victor found you long before you found him," she said. "He watched your parents. Studied your behavior. You weren't just a victim of his war. You were part of an experiment."

Cain's hand trembled slightly.

"Lies."

"No," she said softly. "He let you live, Cain. The attack on your family wasn't random. It was stage three of the trial."

He stared at her. "Say that again."

She stepped back. "You're not a mistake. You're a weapon designed to destroy itself."

Cain lowered the gun.

Everything blurred.

The whispers returned.

Louder this time.

"Cain... Cain... Cain..."

He turned sharply.

Empty room.

Dead air.

"You're hearing them now, aren't you?" Vosk said. "Your father. Your mother. The ones you couldn't save."

He pointed the gun at her again. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I want out. And because you're the only one left who can kill him."

She paused.

"But you can't do it like this. Rage alone won't reach him. You need to understand what he is."

Cain stared at her.

Then, slowly, lowered the weapon.

He didn't kill her.

Not yet.

She gave him everything: files, recordings, evidence of what Victor had done. To others. To him.

She spoke one final thing before he departed: "Cain, they're not murmurs. They are cautions. He sat in the dark that night and gazed at his mother's picture. The murmurs had returned. However, they were now words.

Her words were, "Find the boy."

"The boy?"

Cain's hand went to the folders. One had fallen beneath the others.

It was not the same.

Handwriting is sloppy and smaller.

A picture of a kid.

Eyes that are black.

Fists curled.

Malik is his name.

Age: 7.

Classification of the Project: Echo Subject #2

Cain's heartbeat accelerated. One more? Another kid? One year before to the massacre of his family, the file was dated.

There were notes written by hand at the bottom.

"Subject 2 responded with higher aggression than Subject 1 (Cain). Will monitor for instability."

Cain dropped the file.

The dead weren't whispering for justice anymore.

They were whispering for warning.

The handwritten notes were at the bottom.

Subject 2 reacted more violently than Subject 1 (Cain). I'll keep an eye out for instability.

Cain let the file fall.

Justice was no longer being whispered for by the dead.

They were warning each other in whispers.

Victor has made more than one ghost. Standing in his private room,

Victor Rykov saw the fire dancing in the fireplace. One of his men came over.

The man said, "The doctor made contact." Victor remained still. "And?" "She handed the files to him."

Victor gave a small smile. "All right. He must see it. The cage includes the truth.

The man paused. "How about Subject Two?" Victor's smile hardened as he turned. "He's conscious."