Shoreline District was a different world after dark.
Skyscrapers dripped with color, neon signs blinked like tired eyes, and music thumped from underground clubs like the heartbeat of something alive and angry. Matherson moved through the crowd in silence, face hidden beneath a dark hood, boots clicking across wet pavement.
Everywhere around him were masks—people hiding behind fashion, drugs, secrets. Shoreline was where society's elite came to forget who they were and become something else. It was also where ghosts lived. Digital ghosts. Hackers. Dealers of information. Shadows with keyboards and kill codes.
And somewhere among them was Ghostbyte.
He followed the trail to a club called Null Sector—a place that didn't appear on any map, run by no one, protected by everyone. It sat in a dead-end alley lit only by pulsing LEDs. No signs. No doors. Just a single scanner and a wall of steel.
Matherson stepped up. The scanner flickered.
"Access code," a robotic voice said.
He spoke clearly: "I'm looking for the ghost inside the machine."
A moment passed.
Then the steel door hissed open.
Inside, it was chaos disguised as order. Music pulsed like war drums. Strobe lights flashed over tattooed bodies, glinting cybernetic limbs, and dancers lost in digital madness. Screens lined the walls, each showing corrupted data, surveillance feeds, or glitching faces.
He made his way through the crowd, ignoring the eyes that lingered too long. He was here for one thing.
A whisper found him in the crowd.
"Back room. Purple door."
He followed it.
The room behind the purple door was quiet, cold, humming with electricity. At the center sat a man or something close to one wrapped in cables and wires, eyes hidden behind augmented lenses that blinked data in real time.
Ghostbyte.
"Sit," the hacker said without looking up.
Matherson sat. "I'm looking for Vincent Raye."
Ghostbyte chuckled. "Everyone's looking for something. What makes you think I can help?"
"You encrypted Raye Holdings' files. Built the firewall that buried my father's death."
Ghostbyte stilled.
"So this is personal."
Matherson nodded. "Deeply."
The hacker leaned back. "You know how many people want Vincent Raye dead? Politicians, mercenaries, syndicates, even a few governments. And yet you walk in here with nothing but a name and a grudge."
Matherson placed the flash drive on the table.
"Not just a name. Evidence. Real evidence. Unencrypted."
Ghostbyte looked at the drive, then at Matherson.
"What do you want from me?"
"Location. Last known movement. Any alias. Anything."
The hacker tapped a few keys. Streams of code and signals flickered across the screen like lightning storms.
"You're lucky," he said. "Your father's files still had backdoors. And Vincent's been sloppy lately. Looks like he's preparing for something… big."
A map opened. Dots appeared. Coordinates.
"There. Blacksite compound in Valemont Ridge. Hidden under a private security firm called Cerberus Group. You'll find him there. But be warned… that place is a fortress. Military-grade defenses. Kill squads. AI surveillance."
Matherson's eyes narrowed. "I've come this far. I'm not turning back."
Ghostbyte handed him a device. "Encrypted tracker. Plant this on him. I can remotely disable parts of the compound if I'm close enough to the signal. You want a shot at him, you'll need my help."
Matherson stood. "Then stay close."
As he turned to leave, Ghostbyte spoke again.
"There's something else you should know."
Matherson stopped.
"Vincent didn't just order the hit on your family. He was there that night. Watching. Smiling."
The room went still.
Matherson's fists clenched slowly, then released.
"Good," he said quietly. "Now I know exactly who I'm going to kill."
Outside, the rain had stopped. The city was quiet again. But inside Matherson, the storm was just beginning.
Valemont Ridge was next.
And this time, he wasn't just hunting.
He was bringing war.