Chapter 1015
Chapter 1015:
People had always whispered about how much they resembled each other, but Yelena had always been the refined one, the original. Alina? Just a cheap knockoff.
Maybe that was why Alina had despised Yelena from the start. Time and again, she had gone behind Yelena’s back, reporting her to their mentor, drawing Yelena’s wrath upon herself. But Yelena had never cared. She barely remembered such petty things. Alina, on the other hand, had never let it go.
And now, standing right in front of Yelena, Alina looked even more like her than before—so much so that it was almost like staring into a mirror. But no matter how much Alina had altered herself, she would never look as natural as Yelena.
Before Yelena could move, the sharp sound of glass shattering filled the room. Brody had slammed his fist into the overhead light.
“You’re a traitor, Alina!” he shouted. “You vanished six years ago after selling us out. Who the hell are you working for now p>
Brody’s voice bounced off the walls, echoing as if coming from all directions at once.
“You think you can pass yourself off as Yelena just because you changed your face? You can copy her all you want, but you’ll always be a pathetic imitation p>
Alina’s face twisted with fury. Without a word, she snapped her gun toward Brody’s voice and fired. Ellen barely had time to react before something heavy crashed into her. Yelena had shoved her down, pinning her beneath the bed in a single swift motion.
Ellen lay still, barely breathing, every muscle locked in place. Bullets tore through the blinds, embedding themselves into the walls with sharp cracks.
Domenic convulsed on the bed, the heart monitor screaming in alarm.
“Get them out through the fire exit!” Brody’s voice rang through the haze of smoke as he tossed a grenade-like canister into the room. A thick fog erupted, swallowing everything in a dense white cloud.
Yelena felt something wet and warm trickling down her fingers. Blood. Brody had been shot in the right shoulder.
With both Austin and Domenic still in their beds—Domenic barely clinging to life, hooked to a respirator—fleeing meant certain death.
Lᴀt𝑒st chαptєrs in
Darkness coiled around them, thick and impenetrable.
Yelena pressed her back against the cold tile wall, her scalpel spinning lightly between her fingers, its blade catching what little light remained.
A sudden beam of light slashed through the fog. Someone was rushing toward them. In that brief flicker of illumination, Yelena’s eyes locked onto the glinting metal tip of the black umbrella—hovering just above Domenic’s oxygen tube.
“Stop!” Yelena shouted.
Alina took a measured step forward, the umbrella’s shadow shifting with her like an impenetrable wall.
Yelena instinctively mirrored the movement, her grip tightening around the scalpel, her fingers trembling ever so slightly.
“Stop investigating Nexogenix,” Alina ordered coldly.
Yelena didn’t answer. She simply stood there—calm, unshaken—staring straight into Alina’s eyes as if peeling back the layers of her mind.
The room felt suffocating, the air thick with unspoken threats. The darkness itself seemed to tighten around them, binding them in its clutches.
And then—Yelena twitched.
Alina lunged. The umbrella’s handle swung through the air, aiming straight for Yelena. She dodged, and the fight erupted in a vicious blur.
Alina’s white combat suit clung to her frame, her movements lightning-fast, every punch and kick slicing through the air like a blade. She moved with precision—sharp, calculated, deadly.