Rusty Anchor rooftop
3:02 PM
Cold breeze scraping against broken antennas and cracked vents.
Jackim huddled beneath the rusting fire escape, laptop balanced on his knees.
The flash drive slid into the port with a dull click.
The screen blinked.
Then lines of encrypted files spilled out.
His fingers moved, calling up Maya's old decoding tricks.
The first folder cracked open like an egg — and inside were names.
Hundreds of them.
Jackim scrolled faster, heart pounding against his ribs.
Politicians. Judges. CEOs.
Next to each name: bribes, crimes, hidden killings.
At the very top of the list:
Vincent Cross — Confidential Agent 09B — Active Handler for Project Silence.
Jackim sat frozen.
The street noises faded into a faraway hum.
Project Silence.
He remembered the phrase — whispered once by his father during a drunken rage, before he disappeared forever.
Jackim wasn't just involved.
He was the last surviving witness.
And every single one of them would come for him now.
---
Morgana Street — Haidan slums
3:50 PM
Streetlight flickering in the thickening dusk.
Maya crouched behind a dumpster, breathing fast.
She'd seen the black SUVs roll into the neighborhood — unmarked, windows tinted like eyes that never blinked.
They were here for Jackim.
And anyone who helped him.
A shadow moved.
Maya bolted toward the back alleys, vanishing into the night.
---
Velvet Room, Downtown Haidan
4:15 PM
Air heavy with cigar smoke and perfume.
Susan sat perched on a velvet couch, one shapely leg crossed over the other.
Her dress clung to her curves like liquid midnight, setting her apart even in a room full of predators.
Around her lounged Haidan's elite — handsome, deadly, dressed in tailored suits and designer lies.
Susan's honey-gold hair curled against her tan shoulders, her caramel skin glowing under the chandelier's low light.
She raised her glass lazily, watching Vincent Cross stride into the room.
He looked angrier than she had ever seen him.
Without a word, he dropped into the seat beside her.
"He opened it," Vincent growled.
Susan smiled behind her wineglass.
"Good," she murmured.
"Now the real game begins."
---
Streets of Lower Haidan
4:59 PM
Low-hanging fog swirling through the cracked sidewalks.
Jackim tucked the laptop under his jacket and sprinted toward the subway station.
He had twenty minutes — maybe less — before they closed the city down.
Sweat stung his eyes.
The pounding in his chest was no longer just fear.
It was something older, something sharper.
A promise.
---
Rivergate Station
5:12 PM
Dim fluorescent lights buzzing like insects trapped in glass.
Jackim hopped the turnstile, disappearing into the rush-hour crowd.
He didn't notice the woman watching him from the far corner — sleek black coat, short platinum hair, and eyes like polished steel.
Claire Voss, 27, former military intel, now on Vincent's payroll.
Claire's sharp cheekbones and lean, athletic build made her impossible to ignore — except when she wanted to disappear.
She touched the hidden comms device tucked behind her ear.
"Target on the move," she whispered.
"Orders?"
Static.
Then Vincent's voice, cold as knives:
"Follow him. Make sure he doesn't live past tonight."
Claire smiled thinly.
Hunting always excited her.
Especially when the prey ran this hard.
---
Underground Line 6 — Southbound
5:28 PM
Train rattling like a wounded beast down endless black tunnels.
Jackim gripped the rail, staring at the reflections in the grimy windows.
He couldn't tell who was after him anymore.
Maybe everyone was.
He leaned his forehead against the cool glass.
If he survived this, he swore, he would burn their perfect city to the ground.
One lie at a time.
The flash drive felt heavy in his pocket — not just with secrets, but with the weight of everyone who had died protecting them.
The train hurtled forward into the choking dark.
And Jackim, for the first time, felt something dangerous stir inside him.
Hope mixed with hatred.
The kind of thing that could tear an empire apart.
---