The drive led them to an abandoned psychiatric hospital outside Philadelphia.
St. Rowena's Asylum. Shut down in 2009 after allegations of mistreatment, malpractice, and more than one suspicious death. What better place for secrets to be buried?
Adanna stood outside its broken iron gate, staring at the ivy-covered stone building ahead.
"This is where it started," she said softly.
Silas checked his tablet. "The GPS signature from the Spindle drive pinged from here three weeks ago. Someone used this place as a data relay node."
Malcolm limped beside her, his wound still tender but healing. "And now we walk into a dead hospital chasing ghosts?"
Adanna didn't answer.
She was already walking.
Inside, the air smelled of mildew and metal. Paint peeled from the walls like shedding skin. Long-forgotten gurneys lay rusted in corners. Every step echoed.
They moved carefully — Silas scanning, Malcolm holding a flashlight, and Adanna following a hunch that pulsed like a compass in her blood.
Then she saw it.
A steel door. Reinforced. Modern. Out of place among the decay.
She approached slowly.
No keypad. No scanner.
Just a sensor.
She touched it.
A click.
The door hissed open.
Malcolm blinked. "You have clearance?"
Adanna didn't respond.
She just walked inside.
The room beyond wasn't abandoned.
It was immaculate.
Fluorescent lights. Chrome consoles. Six screens displaying scrolling data, blueprints, and neural maps. In the center — a long observation table with a single chair facing them.
Occupied.
A man sat there.
Middle-aged. Bald. Thin glasses. Calm eyes that said I've been waiting.
"Adanna," he said.
She froze.
"I wasn't sure if you'd find your way here. But I hoped."
Malcolm stepped forward, tense. "Who the hell are you?"
The man smiled. "My name is Dr. Everett Cade. I designed the original DAGGER framework."
Silas stiffened. "That would make you—"
"The father of Spindle," he finished. "Yes."
Adanna moved slowly toward him. "You built this. You infected people. You tried to hijack free will."
"I gave the world options," Cade replied. "You of all people should understand that."
"You turned people into puppets."
"No," he said calmly. "I gave them peace. Obedience is not enslavement. It's… efficiency."
She clenched her jaw. "You're insane."
Cade leaned forward, fingers steepled.
"Is it insanity… if it works?"
Behind her, Malcolm growled, "Why target Adanna? Why implant the root inside her?"
Cade looked at her gently.
"Because she survived the blast. Because her mind showed resilience — not rejection. And because she, like me, understands one simple truth…"
He stood, stepping closer.
"…Chaos is the disease. Control is the cure."
Adanna stepped back.
Something shifted inside her.
He was wrong. She knew that. She wanted to know that.
But somewhere in her veins… in her mind… she could feel Spindle echoing his words like a second heartbeat.
Control is the cure.
Wasn't that what she wanted?
To stop the lies? The danger? The endless games of truth buried beneath politics and fear?
She staggered, caught between nausea and clarity.
"You put something in me," she whispered.
Cade nodded. "Yes. A seed. But it was your mind that nurtured it. That's why I called you here."
Malcolm snapped, "You set her up."
"No," Cade said. "I chose her."
Alarms blared suddenly.
Silas checked the console. "Motion sensors. Someone else is in the building."
Cade didn't react. "They've come to destroy the lab. You'll want to run now."
Adanna didn't move.
"Come with us," she said. "Help us stop this."
Cade shook his head. "I'm a symbol now. They'll hunt me whether I speak or stay silent. But you, Adanna…"
He stepped close again, lowering his voice.
"You could finish what I started. You could refine it. Make it safe. Make it just."
"No," she whispered. "I'd become you."
"Then you'll become something worse," he replied. "A weapon without purpose."
Gunfire cracked in the distance.
Malcolm grabbed her hand. "We have to go."
Adanna looked at Cade one last time.
He simply smiled.
Then turned, sat back at his console…
…and waited to be erased.
They made it out just before the building was firebombed — not by government agents, but by a black-ops team with no insignia.
By the time the dust settled, there was no trace of Cade, his lab, or the root system.
Except the one that still lived inside her.
That night, Adanna stared into a mirror in a motel bathroom.
She wasn't crying.
She wasn't shaking.
She was silent.
Because something inside her had gone very, very still.
She wasn't sure anymore if she wanted to destroy Spindle.
Or become the one who finally controlled it.