(Hector's POV)
The abandoned office building loomed in front of me, its windows dark and shattered. Graffiti covered the walls, and the acrid smell of rotting trash drifted from the alley. This place was a far cry from the sterile safe house I'd used the night I sent Sarah that message. But then, nothing about my life was stable anymore. I'd learned to adapt quickly, always on the move.
I slipped through a side door, stepping carefully over broken glass. A single beam of late-afternoon sunlight filtered through a gap in the boarded windows, revealing dust swirling in the air. My breath caught as I spotted a rat scuttling away. It squeaked and disappeared behind a pile of debris.
This was the third hideout I'd used in two weeks. Each time, I left minimal traces: no personal items, no digital footprints. Daniel had insisted I relocate often, given how aggressively the men from the old secret service unit were tracking me. I hated dragging him into this, but after everything we'd been through together, I knew he wouldn't stand by and watch me self-destruct.
I crept down a hallway littered with collapsed ceiling tiles and old office chairs. At the far end was a battered wooden door. I nudged it open, entering what used to be a manager's office. The desk was overturned, and filing cabinets lay dented and rusted in the corner. But it was secluded enough for me to lay low, and the walls were thick enough to muffle any noise.
I let out a slow breath, setting my duffel bag on the ground. Inside were my few possessions: a spare change of clothes, a battered laptop, and a half-empty bottle of water. A meager existence, but it was all I could manage while on the run.
Thinking of Sarah
My mind wandered to Sarah for the thousandth time that day. I pictured her face—hurt, confused—when she read my message. The memory twisted my insides like a knife. I wanted to call her, to explain everything, but I knew it would only paint a target on her back. I'd made that mistake once already, and they'd threatened her. The text was my attempt at severing our connection, but deep down, I knew it wouldn't be enough to keep her from searching for me.
Sarah was too determined, too stubborn to just let me vanish. That was part of why I loved her. Yet that same trait could get her killed if she stumbled onto the truth. I closed my eyes, remembering how we'd talked about building a life together. I'd pictured a future—maybe a small place outside the city, children one day. Now, that dream felt as distant as the sun on a cloudy day.
I inhaled, forcing my thoughts back to the present. I had a mission here—survival and the eventual takedown of the corrupt officials who'd turned my secret service career into a personal nightmare. If I succeeded, maybe I could have that future with Sarah after all.
A Call from Daniel
My phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out cautiously. The device was a burner, purchased with cash and used only for contact with Daniel. We had a strict protocol for calls, changing numbers every few days.
"Yeah?" I answered, keeping my voice low.
"Hector." Daniel's voice was steady but urgent. "You settled in?"
"As much as I can be in this dump," I muttered, glancing around the ruined office. "What's new?"
A pause. "They're ramping up. I overheard chatter that they plan to force your hand by going after certain… soft targets."
My stomach clenched. "Sarah?"
He hesitated. "They haven't mentioned her name again, but you know they're keeping an eye on her. If they think she knows anything—"
I shut my eyes, anger and fear coiling in my chest. "I left her that message to protect her. She shouldn't even be on their radar."
Daniel's sigh crackled over the line. "You underestimate how paranoid these people are. They're convinced you left some evidence behind. If Sarah starts digging, they'll notice."
I raked a hand through my hair, heart pounding. Of course Sarah would dig. She wasn't the type to let me go without a fight. "Is she okay right now?"
"She's… well, I'm watching her. From a distance," Daniel said. "But she's definitely searching for answers."
A pang of guilt tore at me. I wanted to beg him for details—her emotional state, whether she was sleeping, if she was safe. But I bit my tongue. The more I knew, the more tempted I'd be to reach out to her directly.
"Keep her safe," I said, voice tight. "Don't let her do anything that might get her killed."
Daniel cleared his throat. "I'm doing what I can. But she's determined. And, for what it's worth, I think she found something in your old belongings."
My pulse spiked. "What do you mean?"
"I don't know details, but I saw her carrying a slip of paper, looking pretty rattled," Daniel said. "She's not telling anyone else about it yet—except maybe her friend, Jasmine."
The coded file. My mind raced. I'd left a code behind, hidden in a picture frame, hoping Sarah might uncover it if everything else failed. It was a gamble—one that might lead her to the truth or lead the enemy straight to her if they realized she had it.
I forced my voice to stay calm. "Let me know if she gets in over her head."
"Will do," Daniel replied. "Oh, and watch yourself. They're combing the city for you. Keep moving if you have to."
I nodded to the empty room. "Yeah. Thanks."
We hung up, leaving me with a swirling mix of relief and dread. Sarah had found the code. That meant my plan was in motion. But it also meant time was running out before the officials noticed her activity. If she decoded it, she'd know part of why I fled—my involvement in the black ops, the damning evidence I'd compiled. That knowledge could save us both or sign her death warrant.