Kira stepped cautiously into the warehouse, her eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering through the cracks in the old building. The musty smell of dust and rust filled the air, and the faint hum of distant machinery vibrated through the floor. Her senses were on high alert, every sound amplified as she moved deeper into the shadows.
She pressed her back against the cold metal wall, straining to hear anything beyond the soft thudding of her own heartbeat. Hayes and Wallace were somewhere nearby, but the silence around her felt ominous, pressing down like a suffocating weight.
The warehouse stretched out before her like a labyrinth, rows of forgotten crates and broken equipment scattered across the floor. There was no movement, no signs of life. Yet something about the stillness unsettled her. It was too quiet. Too easy.
She gripped her gun tighter, moving forward with careful, measured steps. Her eyes darted to every corner, expecting an ambush. But all she found was more emptiness. The deeper she went, the more her doubts crept in. Was this another one of Reed's tricks? Another dead end?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a low creak behind her. Kira froze, her breath catching in her throat as she spun around, gun raised.
Nothing. Just the wind rattling the loose hinges of a door.
She exhaled slowly, lowering her weapon. But the tension remained, coiling tight inside her chest. Reed was playing with them, leading them into the darkness, and every step they took felt like a step closer to his trap.
Suddenly, a voice crackled through her earpiece—Hayes. "Kira, report. You find anything?"
She pressed a finger to her ear. "Negative. No signs of anyone."
"Same here," Hayes replied. "But keep your eyes open. This place gives me the creeps."
"Yeah," Wallace chimed in. "Feels like a ghost town. You sure this is the right spot?"
Hayes hesitated before responding. "It's what the intel said. We check every corner before we pull out."
Kira glanced around, scanning the darkened corridors of the warehouse. If there was something here, it was well hidden. But Reed had a way of luring them in just to pull the rug out from under them at the last second.
She continued down a narrow passage between the stacks of crates, her movements growing more deliberate with each step. Her heart raced, anticipation building. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flicker of movement.
She whipped around, gun poised, only to see a shadow slipping between the crates. It was quick, barely a glimpse, but it was enough to set her nerves on fire.
"Kira," she whispered into the earpiece. "I've got movement. North side. Heading in."
Hayes' voice crackled back instantly. "Copy. We'll converge on your position."
She didn't wait for backup. Kira surged forward, cutting through the rows of crates with precision. Her boots barely made a sound against the concrete floor as she weaved through the shadows, following the fleeting figure.
Her breath came in shallow gasps as she rounded the corner of a stack, gun raised, ready to fire. But the corridor was empty.
Frustration boiled in her chest. It was like chasing a ghost. Whoever—or whatever—she had seen was gone. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled, a growing sense of paranoia settling in.
Then she heard it. A faint click. Metal against metal.
Her body reacted before her mind could process the danger. She dove to the side, hitting the ground hard just as a bullet whizzed past her head, embedding itself into the crate behind her.
"Contact!" she shouted into her earpiece, her voice raw with adrenaline. She rolled behind a stack of crates, taking cover as another shot rang out, sparking off the metal frame.
"Hold your position!" Hayes ordered. "We're on our way."
But Kira knew she couldn't just wait. Her mind raced, calculating her options. She had to stay sharp. This wasn't Reed—it couldn't be. His style was all about manipulation and games, not outright violence. Whoever was here meant business.
She peered around the corner, her finger hovering over the trigger. The shooter was hidden somewhere in the maze of crates, using the darkness to their advantage. But Kira was no stranger to these kinds of situations. She had survived worse.
With a sharp intake of breath, she darted forward, moving low and fast, using the crates for cover. Another shot rang out, but it missed her by inches, ricocheting off the metal with a deafening clang. She slid into position behind another stack, her heart pounding in her chest.
Then she heard footsteps—light, fast, moving parallel to her. The shooter was closing in.
Kira's mind raced. She couldn't let them get the upper hand. She shifted her weight, preparing to make her move, when a sudden explosion of noise erupted behind her.
Gunfire.
She spun around, eyes wide, as Hayes and Wallace burst into view, their guns blazing. The shooter—a figure clad in black—fired back but was quickly overwhelmed by the combined force of the team.
The figure stumbled, hit in the shoulder, and crashed to the ground with a grunt. Their gun clattered out of reach as they lay there, gasping in pain.
Hayes rushed forward, kicking the weapon away and pinning the shooter to the ground. "Stay down!" they barked, securing the attacker's arms behind their back.
Wallace approached cautiously, his gun still trained on the figure. "Who the hell is this?"
Kira stepped forward, her pulse still racing as she knelt beside the shooter, ripping off their mask.
The face that stared back at her was unfamiliar. Young, pale, and filled with a mixture of fear and defiance. Definitely not Reed.
"Who are you working for?" Hayes demanded, their voice cold and hard.
The shooter spat at the ground, their eyes blazing with hatred. "You're too late. It's already done."
Hayes narrowed their eyes. "What's already done?"
The shooter laughed—a low, bitter sound. "You'll see."
Before anyone could react, the shooter bit down hard on something in their mouth. Their body seized up violently, and a foam began to form at their lips.
"Damn it!" Wallace shouted, rushing to the attacker's side.
Kira's heart sank as she watched the life drain from the shooter's eyes in a matter of seconds. Whoever this person was, they were willing to die to keep their secrets.
Hayes cursed under their breath, frustration boiling over. "We were so close."
Kira stood slowly, her mind reeling. The shooter's last words echoed in her ears: It's already done.
What had they meant? And how much more damage had been done while they were chasing ghosts in this warehouse?