A dull ache settled in my temples. I pulled out my battered laptop, booting it up with a special flash drive that contained an encrypted operating system. Once it was running, I navigated to a hidden partition where I kept the files I'd stolen from the agency. My screen displayed folder names: "Project Echo," "Black Ledger," "Targets." Each one represented hours of covert work, verifying rumors of illegal missions, targeted eliminations, hush-money deals. Enough to destroy multiple high-ranking officials if released publicly.
My eyes landed on "Project Echo." That was the big one, the file that had sealed my fate. I clicked it open, scanning through the subfolders. Dozens of reports, photographs, and transcripts scrolled by—evidence of a clandestine unit operating outside the law, blackmailing and eliminating perceived threats to certain political figures. It made my stomach churn every time I read it.
Flashback
I remembered the day I stumbled onto this. I'd been assigned to a routine infiltration, told it was a matter of national security. Instead, I found a stash of documents indicating we were targeting innocent activists, journalists, and whistleblowers. I confronted my superior, but he told me to "stay in line" or face consequences. I realized then that I wasn't serving the country; I was serving a handful of corrupt men.
I should've walked away immediately. But I thought I could gather proof, blow the whistle properly. That was my mistake—underestimating how deep the rot went. By the time I'd gathered enough intel, the net had tightened around me. They threatened Sarah. That was the final straw. I refused to comply, so they labeled me a traitor.
I rubbed my eyes, exhaustion creeping in. This safe house was temporary, and I needed to plan my next move. But all I could think about was Sarah. If she had the partial code from the picture frame, maybe she'd realize I was dealing with something huge. Maybe she'd guess that I'd never abandon her voluntarily.
---
An Unexpected Visitor
A sudden crash echoed from the hallway, jolting me upright. My pulse hammered. I snapped the laptop shut, shoving it into my duffel. The safe house might already be compromised.
Gripping my sidearm, I moved to the door. The corridor was dim, lit only by a narrow window at the far end. I listened, heart thudding. Another clatter, closer this time—like someone knocking over debris.
I eased the door open a crack, peering out. My eyes landed on a figure stumbling over a broken office chair, cursing under his breath. My muscles tensed—this could be an enemy operative. But then the figure turned, stepping into a thin beam of light.
It was a teenager, maybe sixteen, wearing ragged clothes and carrying a plastic bag. He froze when he saw me, eyes wide with fear. We stared at each other for a long moment. He looked ready to bolt.
I lowered my gun slowly, exhaling. Just a kid, probably scavenging. I stepped out, raising my free hand in a non-threatening gesture. "Hey," I said quietly, "I'm not going to hurt you."
He blinked, glancing at the gun. I tucked it behind my back. "You shouldn't be here," I murmured. "It's dangerous."
He shrugged, eyes darting around. "Ain't nowhere else for me to go," he mumbled. "Thought this place was empty."
"It is," I said, though I knew my presence suggested otherwise. "Look, I'm just passing through. You should go before someone else shows up."
He nodded warily, edging toward the stairs. I watched him go, guilt pricking me. I wasn't a threat to him, but the men hunting me would kill anyone who got in their way. The city was full of innocent people who could become collateral damage if they crossed paths with the wrong ones.
When the boy disappeared, I slumped against the wall, mind spinning. This wasn't safe, not even for a day. I needed to keep moving, keep them guessing. But with every relocation, I was burning through my few resources. And each day, Sarah was likely venturing deeper into danger.
My phone buzzed again. I almost ignored it, expecting Daniel, but the burner displayed a different number—another secure line Daniel and I used for special calls. Could it be my younger brother?
I answered cautiously. "Hello?"
"Hector?" The voice was male, tentative. My heart lurched. It was Miguel, my brother, who I hadn't spoken to in months. Our last conversation ended in a fight about my secretive lifestyle.
"Miguel," I said, throat tight. "How did you get this number?"
"Daniel gave it to me," he admitted. "He said you might need help."
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "That's not his call to make. I don't want you involved."
"Tough," Miguel shot back, a hint of bitterness creeping in. "Mom's worried sick. She hasn't heard from you in forever, and now Daniel tells me you're basically on the run. What the hell is going on?"
I glanced around the dingy corridor. This was the last place I wanted to have a family heart-to-heart. "I can't talk details. The less you know, the safer you are."
A pause. "Damn it, Hector. Is this about that secret service stuff you wouldn't tell us about?"
"Yeah," I whispered. "And it's bigger than you realize."
Miguel sighed. "Look, I can't pretend to understand your spy crap. But if there's anything I can do—money, a place to crash—just say the word."
My chest tightened. I never wanted to drag my brother or mother into this. "I appreciate it," I said quietly. "But stay out of it. If they think you're helping me, they'll come after you too."
Silence on the line. Finally, Miguel's voice softened. "You're my brother. I can't just sit back and do nothing."
"Please, for Mom's sake, don't get involved," I pleaded. "And if you hear anything about Sarah—like if she tries to reach out—tell me."
He exhaled. "Alright. But you owe me an explanation someday."
"I promise," I said, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Stay safe, Miguel."
We hung up. My heart felt heavier, but also slightly warmer. Miguel still cared, despite our past conflicts. Yet another reason I had to see this through.
A Relentless Determination
I returned to the manager's office, gathering my duffel. Staying here was too risky. The presence of that scavenging kid was proof enough that the building wasn't as deserted as I'd hoped. One slip-up could bring the enemy down on me.
Before I left, I opened my laptop one last time. I typed a brief, encrypted note to Daniel:
> Relocating again. Keep me posted on S. She found the code.
– H.
Sarah, I thought, hold on a little longer. I'm fighting for us in the only way I know how.
I sent it through our secure channel, then shut everything down. My footsteps echoed in the empty corridors as I made my way out the back. Evening light slanted across the alley, turning the garbage and broken bricks into grotesque shapes.
The city beyond was just as alive as always—people rushing home from work, vendors hawking goods on the sidewalks, cars honking in endless traffic. None of them knew about the shadow war raging behind the scenes, about the men who would kill to keep their secrets hidden.
I paused by a rusted dumpster, heart pounding. Was I doing the right thing by staying away from Sarah? If she truly had the code, she might decode it, discover the extent of the conspiracy, and paint an even bigger target on her back. But if I revealed myself to her, the enemy would instantly pinpoint my location. Either path was fraught with danger.
Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to keep moving. I had to trust Daniel to watch her from afar, trust that Sarah's intelligence and caution would keep her alive until I could finish this. The weight of the laptop in my bag felt like a ticking bomb—one that could blow open the entire corrupt network if I found the right outlet.
For now, I was a ghost, haunted by regrets and fueled by a single goal: to bring down the men who forced me to abandon the woman I loved. If that meant living in the shadows, so be it. I'd do whatever it took to protect her. And one day, if fate allowed, I'd explain everything to her face, not through a cold, heartless message.
I set my jaw, stepping into the dusk, letting the city swallow me whole. The chase was on. And I refused to let them win.