Chapter 16
Wren
The gunfire echoes through the mountains.
Even from the cabin.
The first shots make me freeze.
The second burst confirms it.
Something just went very wrong in town.
I turn toward the window instinctively.
The forest outside is black and restless, the wind pushing the branches back and forth like shadows moving in the dark.
My hands hover over the keyboard.
Every instinct in my body says the same thing.
Boone.
My heart pounds harder.
I force myself to focus.
Adam told me to keep eyes on the network.
Which means the best thing I can do right now—
Is to figure out what this system is doing.
I pull the recruitment database back up.
The screen fills with names again.
Golden Team.
Search-and-rescue coordinators.
Emergency medics.
Former military operators.
Hundreds of them.
All quietly tracked.
All connected through the same hidden infrastructure.
My fingers move quickly.
I start tracing the backend connections.
Looking for the system that updates the list.
Because something about it still bothers me.
The names don’t just sit there.
They move.
Shift.
Update.
Like the network itself is alive.
The system pings suddenly.
A small notification flashes in the corner of the screen.
Database update.
I frown.
“That’s strange.”
The system shouldn’t be updating.
Not at two in the morning.
Not unless someone is actively modifying it.
Which means someone inside the network is working right now.
I open the update log.
A new entry appears.
Timestamp: 02:17 AM.
Location tag: Montana cluster.
My pulse quickens.
“That’s tonight.”
I click the entry.
The recruitment list refreshes automatically.
Rows of names shift slightly.
My eyes scan the screen.
Something has changed.
But it takes a moment to realize what.
A new name appears near the top of the list.
Highlighted.
Priority classification.
My stomach drops.
“No…”
I zoom the entry.
The file opens.
Photograph.
Operational history.
Skills profile.
Former Special Operations.
Current field commander.
Brave Team.
The name sits there in bold black text.
Adam Stoker.
The air leaves my lungs.
“Adam…”
Which means the system isn’t just tracking operators anymore.
It’s recruiting them.
I scroll further down.
Another field appears beneath Adam’s name.
Status.
ACTIVE EVALUATION.
My fingers go cold.
Because I’ve seen systems like this before.
Military selection software.
Intelligence vetting programs.
They track performance.
Capability.
Leadership potential.
Until the moment they decide someone is ready to activate.
My heart pounds harder.
Because if Adam just appeared on the list—
That means the network just escalated the situation.
And if Adam is under evaluation…
Then Boone probably is too.
I search the database again.
Typing quickly.
Grant.
The system returns a result immediately.
Boone Grant.
Status: Candidate.
Evaluation: In Progress.
My chest tightens.
“They’re testing you…”
A quiet realization settles over me.
Everything that happened tonight—
The church.
The recruitment board.
The attack.
It wasn’t random.
It was pressure.
A test.
My eyes move back to the update log.
There’s another new entry.
Just added seconds ago.
Location: Church cluster.
Status change.
My pulse spikes again.
“What now?”
I open the entry.
The database refreshes once more.
Adam Stoker’s profile updates.
Status: Confirmed.
Another line appears beneath it.
Leadership Probability: 94%.
My stomach flips.
“Leadership probability?”
That’s not recruitment software.
That’s command selection.
I scroll again.
Looking for Boone’s file.
His profile opens instantly.
Boone Grant.
Evaluation: In Progress.
Then the screen flickers again.
Another update.
New field added.
Command Candidate.
My hands pull away from the keyboard slowly.
Because suddenly the shape of this network makes horrifying sense.
They’re not just building an army.
They’re selecting its leaders.
And Boone—
Boone just got nominated.
The radio on the table crackles suddenly.
Adam’s voice bursts through the speaker.
“Wren, you there?”
I grab the mic immediately.
“I’m here.”
“You’re not going to like this.”
“I already don’t.”
A pause.
Then he says calmly—
“We just captured one of the attackers.”
My heart jumps.
“Did he talk?”
“Yeah.”
“What did he say?”
Another pause.
“He said someone called the Architect wants Boone alive.”
The room goes very still.
Because that name again—
The Architect.
I swallow hard.
“Adam…”
“Yeah?”
“You need to hear something.”
“What?”
I stare at the screen.
At Boone’s file.
At the words flashing beneath it.
Command Candidate.
“They’re not just recruiting people,” I whisper.
“What do you mean?”
I take a slow breath.
“They’re selecting commanders.”
Silence fills the radio.
Then Adam says quietly—
“Wren…”
“Yeah?”
“Whose name is on the list?”
I look back at the screen.
At the two profiles now sitting at the top of the database.
Adam Stoker.
Boone Grant.
Then I answer softly.
“Yours.”
And suddenly the war Mara warned Boone about doesn’t feel theoretical anymore.
Because somewhere out there—
The Architect just started choosing his generals.