Service dog urgently barks at Pregnant Woman… But when officers Discovered the Reality, it was far too late…

Her mother hadn’t just protected her from people. She had protected her from herself. And now, as the ticking of the old pocket watch filled the room, the past and future collided.

Whatever I am, Marlowe whispered, they’ve known since before I was born. Thatcher looked at her, then at the folder. And they’re not going to stop now.

You don’t need to wear a uniform to be a weapon. Sometimes, being born is enough. Back at a secure hideout provided by Cassandra, an abandoned ranger station deep in the woods of West Virginia, the team spread the documents across the table.

Maps. Charts. Coded memos.

And above all, the Helix files. Cassandra worked quickly, eyes scanning each page with military precision. Thatcher stood by the window, arms crossed, while Marlowe sat silently, the DNA report in her lap.

The truth was starting to take shape, but it was far more dangerous than any of them expected. Project Helix wasn’t just gene research, Cassandra finally said, holding up one of the faded documents. It was an off-record operation built to identify and manipulate inherited biological advantages.

Intelligence. Strength. Memory.

Even psychological resilience. They weren’t trying to create super soldiers, they were trying to breed them. Thatcher’s voice was low.

Selective pairing. Controlled environments. Monitoring from birth.

Cassandra nodded. And according to this, Lena was a volunteer. Or maybe a target.

She had genetic markers they considered prime. Thatcher looked at Marlowe. And Hollis.

He wasn’t just your father, Cassandra replied. He was your handler. Your protector.

Your warning system. Marlowe’s eyes filled with tears, but she didn’t cry. Not now.

So my entire life was planned, she asked. Everything. No, Thatcher said gently.

But someone planned for what you could become. That doesn’t mean they get to decide who you are. She shook her head.

Then why do I feel like something’s changing inside me? Cassandra looked up sharply. What do you mean, changing? Marlowe hesitated. Lately.

I’ve been remembering things I never lived. Places I’ve never been. I can hear voices sometimes.

Echoes. Not just thoughts. Memories.

But they’re not mine. The room went silent. Cassandra pulled out a page from the bottom of the folder.

A psychological evaluation labeled Subject 6A. The subject described shared memory imprints, heightened perception, and a deep connection to biological instincts, particularly with canines. She looked at Bishop.

The dog hadn’t moved from Marlowe’s side since she entered the room. He responded to her faster than to Thatcher. Almost like he was reading her mind.

She’s not just carrying traits, Cassandra said slowly. She’s carrying access. They engineered her to receive something.

Thatcher sat down, face pale. That’s why they didn’t kill her. They need her conscious.

Alive. Awake. Marlowe looked down at the DNA report, then back at the room.

So what happens when I fully wake up? No one answered. Because none of them knew. And outside, in the cold wind of the forest, the silence wasn’t peace.

It was preparation. They didn’t just create her to survive. They built her to activate.

Marlowe woke up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, heart pounding like it was trying to break through her chest. At first, she thought it was another nightmare, but there had been no dream. Just a wave of heat rushing through her body, followed by silence so loud it rang in her ears.

She sat up slowly on the edge of the cot, her hands trembling. The cabin was dark, lit only by the fading glow of the fireplace. Thatcher was asleep on the couch, Cassandra by the door, and Bishop snored softly at her feet.

Everything was still. But she wasn’t. Her senses were heightened in a way she couldn’t explain…