Page 103 of Viridian

My hand snaps out, and with a single twist, his neck breaks. He crumples to the floor before anyone can even scream.

I turn to the board, my gaze cold, unflinching. With a thought, the long gray table wrenches free of the floor and slams against the double doors, barricading them all inside. Papers flutter like frantic white birds before settling in silence.

There’s no enjoyment in this. No cruelty. I don’t want to torture them. I want it over.

I let my power ripple outward. The crack of bone echoes through the room as I snap every neck at once, thirteen heads slumping in eerie unison.

Mischka pads to my side as I step over bodies, her eyes bright and steady, her presence the only living comfort in this graveyard of men who thought they owned me. She’s not aghost here. They tested her like they tested me. And like me, she endures. Untouchable. Eternal.

Room by room, I move methodically through the facility. White coats blur together—faces I don’t bother to learn, lives I don’t bother to count. I end them all. Quick. Efficient. My hands barely move, my mind doing the work. And when there’s no one left to kill, I set fire to the heart of the place that made me.

Flames roar through the corridors, eating glass, swallowing steel, turning every sterile surface into ash. Smoke rises high enough to choke the stars.

I stand at the edge of the forest, watching the building burn into ash below, and think about how Dr. Harrison named me Project Viridian because I was like a sprout rising from the ashes. How ironic that feels now. I look down at Mischka and pet her.

“We have a lot of work to do, girl.”

Ahead of us, the world waits. And it’s time to set everything in motion.

December 3rd, 2358

“My entire family died in a freak boating accident when I was eight years old, and I was thrust into a foster system that wasn’t prepared for a traumatized child. I moved from home to home, never staying anywhere long enough to feel safe, never knowing if I’d have a place to sleep the next month. Those were some of the darkest, most isolating years of my life. But if it wasn’t for those early struggles—learning to be resilient, learning to fight for what I believed in even when I had nothing—I don’t think I would have had the relentless drive that brought me here today.”

I hear his voice carrying in the distance as I walk through the park, the joyful sounds of children playing drifting on the gentle breeze. The sun breaks through the clouds, warming my face, and I look up, breathing deeply in this impossibly warm winter day, the kind of day that shouldn’t exist in the world I came from but does now in the one I helped create.

“And now, here I am, standing before you as the head of the most advanced medical research institute in the world, announcing that our trials for a revolutionary cancer-eliminating treatment have not only been successful but will be moving into the final stage of human trials. When I transition to my new role in public service next year, my lead scientist and dear friend Sebastian will be stepping into my role as CEO. I have complete faith that he will continue pushing the boundaries of what’s possible, continuing our mission to heal rather than harm, to build rather than destroy, to give hope to families who are facing their darkest hours.”

Malachi’s speech continues as I weave my way through the large crowd, desperate to be closer to the front. Then I see him, and my heart stops in my chest. It’s been over sixty years since he held me, and I can still remember the way he smelled, the way his fingers would trace lazy circles across my skin and loop pieces of my hair aimlessly around his finger while talking, like it was yesterday.

“My CFO Cade would like to say a few words,” he says, and his eyes sweep over the crowd before stopping on me.

His smile falters, and though he continues talking, my eyes take him in alone. Does some part of him remember me too? I know it’s not possible, but his eyes find mine and hold them.

I see Cade and Aurora talking off stage. They’re married now with two daughters. Bash is saving lives every day in his fight against cancer, among other groundbreaking research their company is pursuing. Dante and Nasha found each other and work as personal security for the company. It’s funny how when people are meant to be in your life, there’s always a way.

When Malachi steps back and Cade approaches the podium, I turn and walk away. I don’t need to hear the rest. I can see they’re all exactly where they’re meant to be. They’re happy, all of them, and successful. The world is thriving. After Unity Labs was destroyed, a new company bought the property and became the leading facility for climate change research. There was never a pandemic, Avids do not exist, and thedistricts never formed. Today, we live in a world where kids play freely in the streets, and we celebrate all the seasons.

My heart squeezes as I walk away from him, from Malachi. But he’s successful and brilliant, doing real good in the world exactly as he was always supposed to. Next year, he will start his political career, and I know he will continue to bring great change to this world.

This is exactly the kind of future worth becoming the villain for.

“Hey, wait up!” I hear from behind me, and I know it’s him. I’ve already made it through the crowd, and when I turn around, I see him rushing toward me.

I swallow hard, holding my breath as he approaches, that irresistible charming smirk quirking up on one side just as he reaches me.

“Are you talking to me?” I say, glancing around like there might be someone else he meant.

He laughs, that familiar sound that makes my chest ache, and holds out his hand. “I’m Malachi Volkov. I saw you back there during my speech, and I wanted to come say hi. You look so familiar to me. What’s your name?”

I shake my head, remembering to breathe. “Katja, but my friends call me Kat.”

“Kat,” he repeats, giving me his full attention. “I like that.”

I smile to myself at the déjà vu of it all. “I didn’t say we were friends.”