Page 177 of Exposé

Ava shifted beside me, her leg brushing against mine as she murmured something nonsensical, her breath warming my arm. The soft glow of the bedside lamp bathed her face in gold, casting delicate shadows over her high cheekbones and the gentle curve of her lips. Exhaustion dragged her under after days of minute naps, but it wouldn’t hold. Ava never stayed down for long.

My fingers drifted over her skin, sweeping a loose strand of hair from her face. The warmth of her breath ghosted over my knuckles, and for a second, I let myself stay there—too long, too reckless. I had spent so much time weaving a lie between us, letting her see what I wanted her to see, until somewhere alongthe way, I tangled myself in it. The control I prided myself on slipped, frayed by the way she softened in sleep, unaware of the war waging beneath my skin

Falling for her was never part of the mission. But now? Now, I’d rip apart the world with my bare hands if it meant keeping her safe.

I forced the thought away, dragging my focus back to the screen, my fingers tightening on the laptop like a lifeline. My fingers skimmed over the touchpad, scrolling through layers of encryption until a single document unfurled on the screen. Lines of text filled the page, cold and clinical:

Project: Operation Nightfall - Classified

Phase III: Integration into Federally Approved Addiction Treatment Programs. Distribution initiated under the guise of rehabilitation aid in controlled populations. Objective: Neural compliance and behavioral dampening in high-risk demographics.

A diagram followed, detailing the targeted institutions—rehab facilities, halfway houses, VA hospitals. I inhaled sharply. This wasn’t just drug circulation. It was a systematic infiltration of the most vulnerable.

Subjects exhibit reduced aggression, loss of critical thinking, and increased suggestibility after sustained doses. 87% compliance achieved within four weeks.

The air thickened around me. My fingers tensed on the keyboard. This wasn’t just distribution—it was conditioning.

I stiffened.They're using addicts as test subjects?

I scrolled further, fingers moving fast, unraveling a deeper layer of the operation.

Phase IV: Population Optimization - Report 093

Two distinct variants of NeuraZene were introduced into controlled environments. Variant A successfully induced compliance—91% effectiveness after six weeks. Subjects exhibited diminished resistance reflexes and total emotional suppression.

My pulse quickened.

Variant B failed to achieve the desired results. Test subjects displayed erratic responses—extreme aggression, psychotic fractures, and unpredictable violence. Attempts to recalibrate neural suppression yielded inconsistent results. Subjects classified as non-viable.

A section titledElimination Protocolfollowed, a chill coiling through my spine, squeezing my lungs in an iron grip. My pulse pounded against my ribs. My fingers hovered over the keys.

This can't be.

All Variant B subjects, along with distributors handling the failed strain, marked for immediate eradication. Field assets assigned to remove compromised dealers to prevent leaks. Non-responsive test subjects scheduled for termination to ensure operational integrity.

The cursor blinked at me, waiting. My grip on the laptop tightened.

They're erasing their failures.

“Ava.” I shook her shoulder.

No time for sleep.

Not now.

She jolted awake, her eyes darting around before locking onto me. “What?”

“They’re making their move." I turned the laptop toward her drooping, sleepy eyes. "Here." I placed the laptop on her lap. "You need to read this.”

She pushed herself up, eyes scanning the screen. The sleep vanished from her face as she read. “This can't be right." She rubbed her eyes, swiped the hair from her face, and leaned in. "This is insane."

“I thought so too, but I've read it over and over." I pointed at the screen. "They’re manufacturing obedience, Ava.” Standing, I paced the side of the bed. “Do you understand how serious this is? No free will. No resistance.”

She met my gaze, determination settling in. “How do we stop this?”

I stopped in my tracks and pointed at the laptop in her lap. “You’re a journalist. Write the story. We leak this to the right people and force the investigation before things get any worse.”

Ava let out a slow breath, shaking her head. "A few leaks won't be enough. You think a handful of corrupt officials are going to let this crumble? They’ll bury it before anyone gets a chance to read past the headline."

---