🕵️‍♀️ Part 2: Ghost Codes
Istanbul never slept, but tonight, it screamed.
The city pulsed around Elena Voss as she disappeared into the alleyway, rain now pouring with vengeance. Her boots sloshed through puddles of diesel and blood. Somewhere behind her, the rooftop sniper was still hunting. But she had what she needed—Damien Rook's burner phone and the locket identical to her brother's.
She ducked into an abandoned textile shop and barred the door behind her. Sweat mingled with rain as she sat cross-legged on a pile of dusty fabric and lit a single match. Shadows danced on her face as she cracked open the burner.
Encrypted. Of course.
She whispered a curse in Russian and pulled a portable decryptor from her jacket. The screen buzzed to life. Lines of code appeared. Then… a flicker.
An address. A name. A countdown.
03:12:49
A ticking clock.
The location blinked: Sarajevo. The countdown was for something—an auction? A meeting? An execution?
She stared at the locket again. Blood smeared across the edge. When she pried it open, her breath caught.
A photograph. Faded. Her brother... standing next to Damien.
What the hell?
Outside, tires screeched.
They'd found her.
She didn't wait to see who. Within seconds, she was gone—slipping out the back, racing down fire escapes, blending with crowds like a shadow.
48 Hours Later — Sarajevo
The city was colder, meaner, and so was she.
The countdown was nearly up when she found the café. Unmarked. Two guards at the entrance pretending to be patrons. She recognized the signs—this wasn't a café. It was a front.
And it was wired.
She stepped inside. Cigarette smoke coiled through the air like ghosts. Chess players clacked pieces. But it was all a performance. Everyone in the room was watching everyone else.
Then, from the corner table—him.
Damien.
This time, he wasn't smirking.
"You tracked it," he said, motioning for her to sit. "You're better than I remembered."
"I should've shot you in Istanbul."
"You still can. But then you'll never know what Project Crimson is."
She didn't move.
"I looked into the phone," she said flatly. "My brother worked with you. Why didn't you tell me?"
Damien leaned back, rubbing the scar on his jaw. "Because if you knew what he died trying to stop, you'd never sleep again."
The café door opened.
A woman entered. Red trench coat. No umbrella. Eyes scanning. Elena's instincts screamed danger.
Damien noticed too. He leaned in.
"She's Orlov's top assassin. If she sees us, we're dead."
"Then we kill her first."
"No." He touched her wrist. "We use her."
Before Elena could protest, he was gone—walking straight up to the woman with a look of bored annoyance.
She watched as he spoke in low Russian, gesturing toward Elena like she was a stranger. The woman narrowed her eyes, then nodded.
Ten seconds later, they both left.
Damien reappeared beside her at the back door.
"She's taking us to the vault. Where your brother hid the original Crimson files."
"Why would she do that?"
"Because I told her you're an arms dealer. And you're here to buy the virus."
Elena's blood ran cold.
"You what?"
"No time. We're in."
Underground — The Vault
Rust peeled from the vault door as the code clicked open. The assassin led them inside and locked it behind them.
Rows of safety boxes. Dim light. A single file folder rested in box 009. Damien opened it.
Inside: documents, maps, and one USB stick.
He held it like it was nuclear.
"This is it. Everything. The project, the experiments, the deaths."
"What is Crimson?" Elena demanded.
He looked at her, eyes hollow.
"Biotech designed to erase memory—clean, targeted, invisible. Your brother helped develop it."
"No."
"He didn't know what it would be used for. When he tried to leak it, they used it on him. But it backfired."
Elena stepped back.
"Are you saying…"
"He remembered just enough to send me the code. And then they killed him."
Tears blurred her vision.
Damien turned to the assassin. "We're done."
The woman smiled.
"You are."
Gunfire exploded.
Elena dropped, dragging Damien down as bullets ricocheted. She fired three times. One hit. The assassin crumpled.
Blood sprayed across the vault walls.
"Was that part of your plan?" Elena shouted.
"No. That was hers."
They ran. Sirens in the distance.
Back on the street, everything had changed.
Elena looked at Damien—really looked at him. No smirk now. Just a man who had buried too many lies.
"I don't trust you," she whispered.
"Good. That's the only way we survive."
The USB drive burned in her pocket.
Crimson was real.
And they were already too deep.