The next morning, Nate sat in the abandoned library wing, staring at the laptop Eira had given him.
The screen blinked:
> "Incoming Mission."
No instructions.
No hand-holding.
Just a name.
> Dr. Jonathan Vale.
And an address in the old part of town — a place even the police didn't patrol anymore.
---
> "He's a ghost," Eira explained.
"Used to work for Westbrooke Labs. Disappeared five years ago."
> "They want him back?"
> "No," she said, eyes dark.
"They want him erased."
Nate's stomach twisted.
He wasn't ready to be a killer.
Eira saw the hesitation.
> "Your job is different," she said.
"Find him first. Protect him if you can. The others... they won't be so gentle."
---
Nate made his way through the crumbling alleys, wearing an old hoodie and a cheap backpack, trying to blend in.
Every window felt like an eye.
Every shadow whispered his name.
At 218 Marrow Lane, he found a sagging townhouse.
Boarded windows.
Broken door.
Silence.
He knocked.
No answer.
He tried the handle.
Unlocked.
---
Inside, the house smelled of dust and forgotten memories.
Rotting books piled high.
Furniture draped with old sheets.
And somewhere deeper inside...
A cough.
Nate followed it to a dim back room.
There, crouched behind a mountain of papers, was a gaunt man with wild grey hair and terrified eyes.
Dr. Vale.
---
> "They sent you, didn't they?" the man rasped.
> "No," Nate said quickly.
"I'm here to help."
Vale stared at him, shaking.
> "It's too late," he whispered.
"They're already here."
---
Before Nate could react, the front door exploded inward with a crash.
Men in tactical gear stormed inside, weapons raised.
> "Down!" one barked.
Nate grabbed Vale's arm and yanked him into the hallway.
> Bang! Bang!
Bullets tore through the walls.
Nate ducked, heart pounding, dragging the terrified doctor toward the back.
---
> "There's a service tunnel," Vale gasped.
"Basement!"
They sprinted down a crumbling staircase.
Behind them, boots thundered.
At the base of the stairs, Vale kicked aside a loose stone, revealing a dark opening barely big enough to crawl through.
> "Go!" Nate shouted.
Vale wriggled inside.
Nate turned, drawing the pistol Eira had given him.
He wasn't a killer.
But he would fight.
---
The first attacker rounded the corner — a masked figure.
Nate squeezed the trigger.
The gun kicked hard in his hand.
The man dropped with a shout, clutching his shoulder.
Not dead.
Good.
Nate ducked into the tunnel after Vale, slamming the hidden door shut behind them.
---
They crawled for what felt like forever.
Finally, they emerged in a junkyard on the edge of town.
Vale collapsed, coughing violently.
Nate helped him to his feet.
> "Where now?" he panted.
Vale's eyes were wide with panic.
> "They'll find me. It doesn't matter where we go."
Nate shook his head.
> "Not if I find them first."
---
Far away, in a gleaming black SUV parked under a dead streetlight, Caleb watched his tablet screen with mild interest.
The tracking device planted on Nate's backpack blinked steadily.
> "He thinks he's winning," Caleb murmured.
"Adorable."
Beside him, another figure leaned forward.
A girl with pale hair and ice-blue eyes.
Someone Nate trusted.
Someone about to shatter that trust.
---