Cassie lay low for two days, hiding out in the tiny, worn-down apartment of a friend who owed her a favor. The room was bare except for a mattress on the floor and a single flickering bulb overhead, which left more of the room in shadow than in light. She hadn't slept much, and every sound, every creak of the floor, felt like a threat.
The contents of the briefcase haunted her: the coordinates, the flash drive filled with cryptic data, and the photograph of the terrified child. She couldn't shake the image of the boy clutching his toy plane. Something about it struck her in a way she couldn't explain, a vague sense of recognition that pricked at her memories and whispered that she'd seen his face before. But where?
Adam's words lingered in her mind too. "No one just walks away." She wondered what he meant by that and if he'd truly meant it as a warning. He was dead now, and part of her felt a pang of regret, remembering that he had once been the only one she'd trusted. But trust had brought her to this point, alone, a fugitive, tangled in questions she couldn't answer.
She knew she couldn't stay hidden forever. At dawn, she left the cramped room, stuffing the map, photograph, and flash drive into her bag. It was time to seek answers.
The coordinates she had found in the briefcase pointed to an old, abandoned train station on the outskirts of the city. She arrived at the site just as the sun rose, its weak rays casting a pale glow over the broken tracks and rusted metal. It was a ghostly place, long forgotten, with weeds growing through cracks in the platform and graffiti covering every inch of crumbling walls. She took a deep breath, feeling an uneasy thrill at the strangeness of it all. Who had left her these clues, and what did they want her to find?
As she moved through the deserted station, her footsteps echoed against the emptiness. She scanned the surroundings, her hand resting instinctively on the gun beneath her coat. No one else was there — at least, as far as she could tell. But there was an unmistakable sense of something lurking, something just out of reach.
Cassie pulled out the map and studied it, trying to match the surroundings with the markings on the paper. The coordinates led her deeper into the maze of disused rail lines until she found a small, weathered door, half-hidden behind a pile of rubble. She paused, staring at it, her heart pounding. If this was a trap, she was walking right into it.
The handle was cold and stiff, resisting her efforts, but it finally gave way with a creak. Inside, a long, narrow hallway stretched before her, dimly lit by streaks of sunlight breaking through cracked windows. She moved cautiously, her senses on high alert.
About halfway down the corridor, she heard it: a faint tapping sound, almost rhythmic. She stopped, pressing herself against the wall, listening intently. The sound grew louder, and soon she could make out voices — hushed, urgent whispers, as though whoever was speaking didn't want to be heard.
Cassie edged closer, straining to make out the words. A man's voice, deep and commanding, came first: "The package was supposed to be delivered to our contact three days ago. There's no room for delay."
A second voice, softer but tense, responded, "I told you, there was… a complication. Adam didn't follow orders. He went rogue, and now the entire plan is compromised."
Cassie froze, feeling a cold chill run down her spine. They were talking about Adam — and, by extension, about her. She took a steadying breath and leaned closer, peering around the corner.
Two figures stood in a small room ahead. One was a tall, imposing man in a dark suit, his face half-hidden in shadow. The other was a young woman with sharp features, her expression tight and anxious. Both looked like they belonged in a boardroom, not a forgotten train station.
The man leaned forward, his tone low and deadly. "I don't care who Adam trusted or why he went off-script. We need that information. And if that woman still has it, then she becomes our next target."
Cassie's heart thundered. It was only a matter of time before they discovered she was listening. She backed away slowly, taking careful, silent steps until she was out of their line of sight. The room she'd hidden in was empty except for a stack of dusty crates, and she crouched behind them, trying to calm her breathing.
She knew she was in deep now. These people weren't just anyone. They were powerful, organized, and determined to protect something bigger than she'd anticipated. And if they knew about the briefcase and its contents, then they would stop at nothing to retrieve it.
Cassie weighed her options. She could run, try to disappear, but the coordinates, the flash drive, the photograph — they all pulled at her, a magnetic pull she couldn't ignore. There was something here, a truth hidden in the shadows, and she felt that walking away would haunt her more than staying.
After a few minutes, the voices faded, followed by the sound of retreating footsteps. Cassie waited, counting down from thirty to be sure they were gone, then cautiously emerged from her hiding spot. She slipped back into the hallway and approached the room where they'd been standing.
The air in the room was thick with dust and the faint scent of cigarettes. Cassie quickly scanned the area, her eyes landing on a discarded folder lying on the floor. She knelt, flipping it open, her heart racing as she skimmed through the papers. They were filled with codes, lists of locations, and names — some of which she recognized from her years in the field, people who had vanished without a trace.
Then she saw it: a photograph of herself, stapled to the top page of the folder. Cassie Porter, it read, along with her last known address and a note in bold red letters: TARGET: ELIMINATE ON SIGHT.
She swallowed hard, feeling a surge of dread. They were already looking for her. And if she didn't act fast, they would find her — and whoever else got caught in their crosshairs.
A faint clicking sound brought her back to the present. She looked up, realizing that a small camera was mounted in the corner of the room, pointed directly at her. They'd set a trap, and she had walked right into it.
She bolted, heart pounding, running back down the corridor toward the door she had entered. The sound of footsteps echoed from the other end of the hallway, growing closer. They'd been waiting for her to make a move, and now they were closing in.
Cassie burst out into the open air, the morning light blinding her momentarily. She sprinted down the abandoned platform, weaving through piles of rusted metal and broken glass. She could hear them behind her, their footsteps relentless, like hunters pursuing prey.
She kept running, refusing to look back, her mind racing with a thousand thoughts. The briefcase had drawn her into something far bigger than she'd realized, and she knew there was no turning back now. If she wanted to survive, she would have to uncover the truth — no matter the cost.
As she disappeared into the city, Cassie knew one thing for certain: she was no longer just running from her past. She was running from people who would stop at nothing to keep their secrets buried, even if it meant silencing her forever.