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

She could hear the electricity humming in the walls, the rhythm of Cassandra’s breathing across the room, and even the subtle crackling of the wood in the fireplace. When she stood, her body felt different. Lighter, but stronger.

Balanced. As if gravity had adjusted around her. She walked to the small mirror near the sink and stared at herself.

Same face. Same eyes. But deeper.

Sharper. It was as if someone had turned up the focus on a camera lens, and suddenly she could see everything. Thatcher stirred the moment she moved.

He blinked twice, reached for his sidearm, then stopped when he saw her standing still in the dim light, almost glowing from the sweat and firelight. Marlow? He asked softly. She turned toward him slowly, like she was trying to calculate the meaning of his voice.

Her expression wasn’t afraid. It was focused. I saw them, she whispered.

I don’t know how, but I saw them. The lab. The white walls.

My mother. Others. There were other women.

Other children. I knew them, but I’ve never met them. Cassandra sat up instantly.

You’re having memory recall. That’s not just adrenaline. Something’s triggering long-term stored data.

Things your conscious mind never had access to. Marlow looked down at her hands. I don’t know what’s happening to me, but it doesn’t feel like a breakdown.

It feels like a beginning. Bishop let out a low, deep growl. Not of warning, but of response.

As if something inside him recognized the change. The connection between the dog and Marlow had always been strong, but now it felt biological. Instinctive.

Then something beeped. A faint, steady blinking from the laptop on the table. Cassandra was already on her feet, crossing the room.

That laptop wasn’t connected to anything, she said. It’s isolated. But the blinking continued, one light flashing steadily, like a heartbeat.

The screen lit up, showing a black window and one line of text. Helix protocol. Phase two.

Activation verified. The words pulsed once, then disappeared. A chill ran through the room.

They knew this would happen, Thatcher said quietly. They’ve been waiting for this moment. For her to turn on.

Marlow backed away from the screen, her voice barely audible. I didn’t press anything. I didn’t connect anything.

It just. Happened. Cassandra closed the laptop and locked it down.

That’s because it was never about external control, she said. The protocol was inside you. And now.

She looked at Thatcher. She’s broadcasting. You can’t run from your creators.

Not when they built you to find them. The silence after the protocol activation was louder than any alarm. Marlow could feel something shifting inside her, not just physically, but mentally, emotionally, even spiritually.

She wasn’t just changing. She was connecting to something bigger. Thatcher knew their window was closing fast.

Now that the Helix protocol had verified its activation, the people behind it, the ones who built it, would already be on high alert. They knew she existed. They knew she was active.

And they would come. Cassandra had traced a name from the documents they found in the safety deposit box. Dr. Julian Crest, a former DARPA geneticist, officially declared dead in 2012 after a mysterious lab accident.

But encrypted financial logs told a different story. He was still drawing funds through a shell company based in Arizona. He’s not dead, Cassandra confirmed.

He just vanished behind the right paperwork. Marlow stared at the screen. If he helped create me, then he owes me the truth.

The location was disguised as a rehab center in the middle of the Arizona desert, isolated, silent, surrounded by sand and shadows. But the surveillance feeds painted a different picture. Armed guards, unmarked vehicles, thermal sensors, and reinforced entryways.

This isn’t rehab, Thatcher said. It’s a bunker, Cassandra nodded, already unpacking their gear. Then we go in like it’s a fortress.

They breached the facility just after midnight using an old maintenance shaft Albi had found buried in a decade-old blueprint. Inside, the air was cold, sterile, and heavy with something ancient, the weight of secrets. The walls were concrete, the lighting minimal.

After navigating through narrow corridors and bypassing security traps, they found a hidden lab on the sublevel. And standing inside, almost as if he had been waiting, was a man with gray hair and hollow eyes. He didn’t run.

He didn’t panic. He just raised his hands slowly. You’re early, he said softly, staring at Marlow.

The protocol was triggered too soon. Thatcher stepped forward, gun aimed. Are you Dr. Crest? I was, the man replied.

Now, I’m just the last one who remembers how she was made. Marlow stepped toward him, her voice steady but cracking. Why? Why my mother? Why me? Crest exhaled slowly.

Because she had the purest markers. And you, you were our only success. The quiet answer to a question the world hasn’t asked yet…