Elsewhere, Carter sat hunched over his terminal, the rhythmic hum of the processor the only sound in the room. The blue glow of the monitor washed over his face, catching the exhaustion etched into his features. He was deep-diving into the restricted archives of the Golden Apartments—specifically, a military-tier database buried behind layers of high-command encryption.
An entry flickered onto the screen, stopping him cold.
It was a classified incident report detailing a series of "anomalous departures" at the complex. Several tenants had vanished overnight without a single trace of struggle or luggage. As Carter cross-referenced the dates, a chill settled in his marrow. They had all disappeared the exact hour Emma and her family had moved in.
Why did they run? Carter wondered, his skin prickling. And more importantly… who were they?
He needed more than a standard rig could provide. "I need the mainframe at the Space Department," he muttered, his voice raspy. He slammed an external drive into the port, ripped it out once the transfer bar hit 100%, and bolted.
Outside, the sky had collapsed into a deluge. Carter mounted his bike, the freezing rain drenching his gear in seconds. As he gripped the accelerator, water streamed from his fingertips like a liquid shroud. He kicked the bike into gear, the engine roaring as he tore through the flooded streets toward the facility.
Ten minutes later, Carter skidded to a halt before a monolithic metal gate. A small viewing port slid open, revealing a sharp, suspicious gaze.
"Identify yourself," a voice barked over the thunder.
Carter ripped off his helmet, letting the rain plaster his hair to his forehead. The guard's posture instantly shifted from aggression to a rigid salute.
"Sir! My apologies. Proceed!"
The heavy gates ground open with a mechanical groan. Carter gave the man a distracted pat on the shoulder as he sped past. "No problem. You're just doing your job."
He killed the engine in front of the main building—a brutalist shadow against the flickering lightning. With the internal lights dimmed for the night, the "SPACE DEPARTMENT" sign looked less like a label and more like a grim warning.
He ducked under the bike shelter, pocketed his keys, and moved through the silent lobby like a ghost. He didn't bother with the lights; he knew the path by heart. Inside the elevator, the mirrored walls reflected a drenched, frantic man. He ran a shaking hand through his wet hair, trying to force his breathing into a steady rhythm.
Ding.
The doors slid back. Carter hurried to the primary terminal and slammed the drive home. As the supercomputer began tearing through the apartment's encryption, strings of crimson code began to dance across the panoramic displays.
Carter's eyes widened as he recognized the syntax. "These aren't just residents," he whispered to the empty room. "They're classification tags."
He grabbed a notepad, his pen flying across the paper as he decoded the headers. Each one represented a high-priority target—the kind of monsters the public believed were either dead or buried in "black site" purgatory.
What were fifty of the world's most dangerous assets doing in one building? And why did they flee in terror the moment a young girl walked through the front door?
He opened a military-grade dossier to cross-reference the first tag: 3$AX7.
FILE ACCESS GRANTED
Name: Johnson Clark
Occupation: Former College Professor
Confirmed Kills: 5,000+
Profile: Specialized in targeting female students; Tier-1 manipulator; evasion expert.
Last Known Location: Golden Apartments.
Status: Vanished.
Carter's pulse hammered against his ribs. The date of Clark's disappearance was an exact match. The same day Emma arrived. He took a sharp breath, turning toward the window to steady his dizzying thoughts.
A face was staring back at him.
A man was standing just outside the glass, perched impossibly high against the storm-wracked sky, staring into Carter's very soul. It was DA.
Before Carter could even reach for his sidearm, DA stepped through the reinforced glass as if it were nothing more than a curtain of smoke.
"Long time, no see, Carter," DA said, his voice as dry as a desert wind.
"How long were you out there?" Carter demanded, his hand hovering near his holster.
"Since the second you walked in," DA replied with a sharp, mocking smirk. "I thought about scaring you while you were in 'analysis mode,' but you looked a bit too stressed for a jump-scare."
Carter exhaled, the tension leaving his shoulders but the dread remaining. "Fine. If you're here, stop lurking and lend me a hand. This is bigger than we thought."
"Hmm. And what exactly are we searching for?" DA asked, tilting his head.
"I'm looking into Emma's past. Her brother, specifically," Carter said.
DA's expression softened into a look of mock-tragedy. "Ah, the brother. Truly tragic. I feel for her—losing a sibling at such a tender age." DA reached up, wiping away a nonexistent tear with a flick of his finger.
Carter nodded solemnly, then froze. The gears in his head shifted. "Wait... how did you know she lost him at such a young age? I haven't even cracked that file yet."
DA's smile widened, becoming something sharp and predatory.
"Who did it?" Carter asked, standing up so abruptly his chair screeched against the floor. "Who killed him?"
DA gestured to himself with a graceful bow.
"You?" Carter gasped, his hand tightening on his desk.
DA shook his head, his grin never wavering. "No. But I know who did."
Carter slammed his fist onto the console, his eyes locked on the mysterious figure. "Then tell me. Who?"
"Someone you're quite closely related to," DA murmured.
Carter's mind raced through a list of enemies and ghosts. He narrowed his eyes as a name surfaced. "So... it's Foster."
"Nope," DA chirped.
"Then who?"
"To be honest, I don't know the full story myself," DA said, leaning back against the terminal. "But if you want the truth, you shouldn't be asking me. You should be asking your brother-in-law."
Carter felt the air leave his lungs. "Liam?"
"I think he might know more than he's letting on," DA said, his voice fading into the shadows of the room.