I approached the door. There was no keyhole, only a glass panel. “Place your hand on it,” Gabriel instructed. “It’s biometrically keyed to your specific genetic signature.”
I pressed my palm against the cold glass. A beam of light scanned my skin. The ground beneath us rumbled, and the massive steel gears groaned into life. The door hissed open, revealing a room lined with servers and a single desk. On the desk sat a leather journal. My father’s handwriting was on the cover.
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I opened it. “Alyssa, if you are reading this, I have failed to protect you. But I have left you a weapon. The truth.”
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