The explosion came at 3:12 a.m. Not loud. Not dramatic.

Just a soft 'whump' followed by the smell of burning ozone and betrayal.

Reed woke first (something in the air tasted wrong). He was out of bed before the second pulse hit, pulling on jeans, barefoot on cold concrete. Laken rolled after him, eyes already glacier-sharp, frost curling from her fingertips like smoke.

They reached the sub-basement lab together.

The MDFG-7 was gone.

In its place: a ...