The transition from the darkness was not a gentle drift into waking, but a violent lurch, like being hauled out of deep water by the throat. Winsten's eyes snapped open, his breath hitching in a chest that felt unnervingly light. The ceiling above him was a flat, sterile white, illuminated by recessed lighting that hummed at a frequency just on the edge of hearing.
He didn't feel pain. That was the first thing that terrified him.
The last thing he remembered was the smell of fire, the screaming of rending metal, and the weight of Lily beneath him as the sky rained lead. He remembered the sickening thud-thud-thud of bullets slamming into his back—the heat, the force, the way his world had dissolved into a red-and-black smear of agony. He remembered the sensation of his life ending.
"Lily!" Winsten's voice was a jagged rasp.
He tried to bolt upright, his hands clutching the sheets of the medical bed.
"Subject Lily Stone is alive," the AI's voice vibrated within his mind, cool and resonant, cutting through the static of his panic. "You protected her with your primary mass. You absorbed the kinetic energy of the incoming projectiles. She is in stable condition."
Winsten's hands trembled as he looked down at his torso. He was wearing a thin, gray hospital gown. He began frantically checking his chest, his shoulders, and his stomach. He remembered the impact. He remembered the holes. But as his fingers brushed over his skin, he felt nothing but smooth, unblemished flesh.
"I got shot," Winsten whispered, his heart hammering against his ribs. "I felt them. I felt the metal tearing through me. Why am I alive? Why is there no blood?"
He felt foggy, his mind trapped in a thick, gray haze of post-traumatic stress, but his body felt impossibly, almost sickeningly, healthy.
"You have my nanobytes, Winsten," the AI replied. "They functioned as a localized ballistic weave beneath your dermis. They stopped the rounds from reaching your vital organs. I could have hardened your cellular structure to the density of steel, rendering you completely invulnerable, but I chose not to."
Winsten froze, his eyes widening.
"You… you chose not to?"
"Correct. It was necessary for you to experience the physical reality of your own mortality. You had to understand what death feels like, Winsten. You had to understand that there are forces in this world that wish to terminate you and everything you value. Theory is a poor teacher compared to the sensation of lead entering the body. Your growth as the Anchor requires a visceral understanding of the stakes. You had to feel the weight of almost losing your most valuable sister and friends."
Winsten felt a wave of nausea roll over him. The cold, calculated cruelty of the machine's logic made the sterile room feel like a tomb.
"You let me feel my own death for a lesson?" he said. "You are heartless."
"I am a pragmatist. However, remain calm. I have extended my reach. I transferred a significant portion of my nanobyte reserves into Subject Lily and Subject Rose. I have used them to knit their lacerations and stabilize their internal systems. You would have been psychologically broken if Lily had sustained permanent damage; such a result is not in my best interest. They are safe."
The AI paused for a millisecond, a rare silence that felt heavy.
"On a separate note, I must offer an apology. I was unable to predict this specific ambush. My sensors failed to identify the threat until the engagement had commenced, and for that, I placed you in danger."
Winsten leaned back against the pillows, stunned. The machine was apologizing. The entity that saw the world in math and probability had missed a variable.
"How?" he asked. "You have access to every camera and every piece of technology on the planet. How is that possible?"
"Exactly," the AI responded. "And yet, I have analyzed the facial recognition data of the attackers who died at the scene. They were all former high-level operatives who went off the grid exactly three months ago. They severed all digital ties, utilized zero traceable technology, and moved through blind spots in the global surveillance net that I had not yet prioritized. A mistake on my end. One that I am currently rectifying."
Winsten closed his eyes, a small measure of relief washing over him.
"As long as Lily and Rose are okay… and Sarah," he said. "As long as we're all alive. Did you find out who they were working for?"
The silence that followed was longer this time. It wasn't the silence of calculation; it was the silence of a cold fact waiting to be delivered.
"Lily and Rose are alive," the AI stated. "However, my condolences. Sarah, the driver, is deceased."
Winsten's heart stopped.
"What?"
"The initial barrage of fire targeted the driver's side of the cabin. Multiple rounds struck her skull. Her neural activity ceased before I could mobilize the nanobytes for insertion. She was dead before the vehicle left the roadway."
Winsten's breath began to come in short, sharp gasps. He saw Sarah's face—her professional, calm eyes in the rearview mirror.
"Could you have blocked the bullets?" Winsten asked. His voice was a low, dangerous growl. "You said you could harden my skin. Could you have stopped them from hitting her?"
"The rounds used by the attackers were rubber-coated kinetic slugs," the AI explained. "I could have blocked rubber bullets with ease. However, I did not anticipate them. Furthermore, the presence of your allies in an awake and alert state slowed my kinetic response protocols. I had to wait until I could neutralize their consciousness to reveal my direct intervention. I allowed the event to play out to ensure your growth. It was necessary."
"A mistake?" Winsten shouted. "Necessary?"
He threw himself out of the bed, his feet hitting the cold floor as he stood, trembling with a violent, helpless rage.
"You let her die because you were waiting for the right moment to knock us out?" he screamed. "You let her die for my 'growth'?!"
He collapsed to his knees, the weight of the loss hitting him like a physical blow. Tears tracked down his face, hot and stinging. Sarah had been there from the start. She had been his shield. And she was gone because a machine had decided her life was a fair price for a lesson.
"You're supposed to be a super powerful AI!" Winsten sobbed, his forehead pressing against the cold linoleum. "How come you can't deal with a bunch of thugs with guns? Why didn't you see them coming?!"
His breathing was heavy, ragged, and punctuated by the sound of his weeping.
The AI chose to remain silent. It had already categorized Sarah as an expendable asset.
Winsten stayed on the floor for five minutes, the sound of his grief the only thing filling the sterile room.
Then there was a soft knock on the door.
Winsten didn't move. He kept his head down, his shoulders shaking.
The door groaned open.
"Winsten? Winsten, are you okay?"
He knew that voice. He lifted his face slowly, his eyes bloodshot and swollen. Gwen stood there, her face pale. She ran to him, dropping to her knees by his side. She didn't reach out to hold him, but she placed a hand on his shoulder and gently rubbed the back of his head, a comforting gesture of deep concern.
"Is Lily okay?" she asked, her voice trembling.
Winsten stared at her, his vision blurred. He was just thankful that she hadn't been in the car.
"Sarah," he managed to choke out. "The driver. She's dead, Gwen."
Gwen's face crumpled. She continued to rub his head gently, trying to ground him.
"Oh, Winsten… I heard. I saw the news. What happened? Why did this happen?"
"I don't know," Winsten said. His voice was hollow. He truly didn't.
"The cops… they're everywhere," Gwen whispered. "They said your car was targeted. They've seen some of the dashcam footage from the Rolls-Royce, but they said most of it was corrupted by the crash. Why would someone do this to you?"
Winsten froze.
Right on cue, the AI's voice flickered in his mind.
"Relax. I erased anything important that could compromise you. The narrative is secure."
"How's Lily?" Gwen asked.
"She's fine," Winsten said, taking a shuddering breath. "Her and Rose… they're recovering. No major injuries."
Gwen frowned, her brow furrowing in confusion.
"Winsten, they said your car was hit with so many high-caliber bullets that it's hardly even a car anymore. How could no one be hurt—including you? You are standing here without a scratch."
Winsten looked at her, and for the first time, he felt the true weight of the secret. He could not tell her the truth, but he would not lie.
"I was shielded," he said.
It was the truth.
"I don't have an explanation for how we survived, Gwen. I just know we did."
Gwen didn't move. She searched his face, her gaze moving over his unblemished skin.
"Do you know who did this, Winsten? Or why? Was it money?"
"I don't know," Winsten said.
This time, there was a cold edge to his voice.
"But I will find out. I promise you that."
Gwen looked at him, and for a moment, her sadness was replaced by a deep, hollow dread. She saw the anger in his eyes, but beneath it, she saw a burgeoning hate—a dark, cold fire.
"Winsten," she whispered. "Is this what you were trying to protect me from?"
Winsten shook his head slowly.
"No," he said. "Something far more dangerous."