LOGINThe city looked different when you knew where the rot lived. Amarah moved through the night with practiced calm, her hood pulled low, her steps measured. No panic. No hesitation. That was the rule now. Panic led to mistakes, and mistakes especially now could get her killed. She replayed the discovery in her mind again and again, as if repetition might soften the blow. It didn’t. Every route she took tonight was deliberate. No familiar patterns. No shortcuts. She doubled back twice, changed vehicles once, and cut through a crowd just long enough to lose anyone who might have been watching. Raven never assumed she was alone. Not anymore. Inside a dimly lit safehouse, she finally exhaled. The walls were bare concrete. One table. One chair. One screen. The kind of place that didn’t invite comfort only truth. She removed her gloves slowly, staring at her hands like they didn’t belong to her. Gabriel. The name pressed against her chest like a weight. She forced herself to think lik
The rain hit the city in hard, sharp lines, splashing against windows and slick streets. Amarah stood on the rooftop of an abandoned warehouse, hood low, coat clinging to her like armor. Below, the city thrummed lights blinking, engines humming, life oblivious to the storm she was about to uncover. Her fingers trembled slightly as she pulled the encrypted file closer. She had chased shadows for months, tracing breadcrumbs, decoding half truths, narrowly avoiding traps. Each piece had felt manageable until now. She opened the latest data shard Jake had guided her to. It wasn’t much: logs, patterns, connections but one line of code blinked at her, like it had a pulse of its own. Her eyes widened as she traced it backward. It led to a name. A name she thought she had buried years ago. A name she had hoped she’d never see again. Her heart skipped. Gabriel. Not the man she knew, not the public figure. But the man controlling everything, the orchestrator she’d been hunting.
It was easier than naming it. The case was closed officially. Stamped, archived, buried under years of dust and decisions made by people higher than her reach. She told herself that reopening it would only hurt everyone involved. Gabriel. Herself. Innocent names that didn’t deserve to be dragged back into shadows. And yet— She stared at the screen again. Same symbol. Same routing pattern. Same quiet signature hidden beneath layers of legitimate traffic. It shouldn’t still be appearing. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. I’m imagining it, she told herself. I want there to be something because not knowing feels worse. She shut the laptop. But the feeling stayed. Across the city, Gabriel studied the report in silence. Not the official one. The one only he had. Raven’s movements had shifted more precise, less reactive. She wasn’t circling anymore. She was narrowing. Someone who stopped running and started understanding. Jake stood across from him, uneasy.
For the first time since she’d locked that cabinet, Yna stopped convincing herself she was wrong. And miles away, unseen, Amarah moved closer to the center of a storm that would soon have a name. Three paths. One buried truth. And fractures spreading quietly beneath the surface. Amarah had chased shadows long enough to recognize when one was finally leading somewhere real. The location wasn’t marked on any public map. No signage. No records. Just a quiet structure buried beneath layers of legitimate business exactly the kind of place power preferred to hide. Raven preferred places like this. She moved through the underground level with practiced calm, every step calculated. This wasn’t recklessness. This was proximity. She was close enough now to feel it the center of gravity pulling everything inward. The Big Boss isn’t a myth, she thought. He’s careful. Organized. Human. That made him dangerous. A vehicle rolled in behind her. She didn’t turn immediately. Engine
Yna tried to drown the feeling with normalcy. She met Marco, Lily, and Tali that evening at a small place near her apartment nothing fancy, just warm lights, shared food, familiar laughter. The kind of place where life felt uncomplicated. “You’ve been quiet,” Tali said gently, stirring her drink. “Like… quiet-quiet.” Yna smiled, forcing ease into her shoulders. “I’m just tired.” Marco studied her for a moment longer than the others. “You don’t look tired. You look like you’re holding something in.” She opened her mouth to deny it then stopped. Instead, she shrugged. “Sometimes things from the past knock, even when you don’t invite them.” Lily reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to carry it alone, you know. Even if you can’t tell us what it is.” That nearly broke her. Yna nodded, blinking away the tightness in her chest. They didn’t need details. They didn’t need names. Just being there was enough. Still, as laughter returned to the table,
The first thing Yna noticed was the silence. Not the peaceful kind the heavy one that settled after a decision had already been made. The office was unusually still, phones ringing less often, footsteps softer, as if everyone was unconsciously bracing for something they couldn’t yet name. She set her bag down and opened her email. One message sat unread at the top of her inbox. SUBJECT: Archive Review Request SENDER: Internal Audit TIMESTAMP: 06:14 AM Her breath stalled. Archive reviews were rare. Painfully procedural. And never random. She clicked it open. The request was brief formal language, neutral tone. A case number referenced in passing. No names mentioned. No accusations implied. But Yna recognized the number instantly. Her fingers curled against the desk. It’s just a review, she told herself. Routine. It doesn’t mean anything. Still, the timing felt wrong. Too precise. Too close to the unease she’d been carrying for days. Across the room, Lily laughed at somet







