The early morning air bit into Cassie's lungs as she and Anya pushed themselves to keep running, weaving through the narrow alleys that threaded the city. The chill of impending dawn seeped through their thin jackets, but the heat of adrenaline and urgency drove them forward. The echoes of shouts and footsteps had faded, but neither dared to slow. The weight of their actions hung heavy between them—victory tempered by the knowledge of an inevitable retaliation.
They turned down a side street, the world narrowing into a tunnel of stone and shadow, until they reached a hidden alcove between two buildings. Cassie leaned against the rough wall, gasping for breath, while Anya kept watch, her eyes scanning for any sign of pursuit.
"We have to lay low until Emil contacts us," Anya said, her voice low but steady. "They'll sweep the city block by block."
Cassie nodded, though her mind was still racing. The image of the files they'd uploaded replayed in her head—a Pandora's box of classified operations, secret alliances, and blood-stained accounts that would rattle governments worldwide. The agency's power rested on its secrecy, and they had torn the veil away.
Suddenly, the silence of the alley was broken by the faint whine of sirens in the distance. Anya's jaw clenched as she turned to Cassie, eyes hard.
"We can't stay here. If they find us now, it's over."
Cassie took a deep breath and pushed off the wall. "There's a safe house a few miles from here. Adam mentioned it once. It might still be operational."
"Then that's where we're headed," Anya replied without hesitation. She gave Cassie a brief, calculating glance. "Let's hope your trust in him wasn't misplaced."
---
The safe house was hidden within an old bookstore, its exterior faded and forgotten amid the surrounding buildings. Cassie led the way, recalling the map Adam had sketched so many times in their shared briefings. The bell above the door gave a soft chime as they entered, the sound swallowed by the musty scent of old pages and leather bindings.
The place was deserted. Shelves lined the walls, sagging under the weight of forgotten literature. Cassie moved to the back, where a small door blended seamlessly with the wood paneling. She pressed the latch Adam had described, and the door clicked open, revealing a set of stairs descending into darkness.
"Down there?" Anya asked, arching an eyebrow.
Cassie nodded. "It should be stocked, but it hasn't been used in years."
They descended, shutting the door behind them. The basement was larger than Cassie expected, filled with crates, emergency supplies, and a small table with chairs. A lone, dusty lamp sat in the corner, which Cassie switched on, casting a weak glow that made the space feel smaller, more intimate.
"Better than I thought," Anya murmured, examining the contents of a crate filled with canned goods and medical supplies. She looked at Cassie, her expression unreadable. "How long do you think we have before they trace us?"
Cassie sat down, her hands finally trembling as the adrenaline wore off. "Not long. Maybe a day or two if we're lucky. But it's not just us they'll be looking for. The moment the files hit the public, they'll be scrambling to contain the fallout."
Anya paced, the shadows from the lamp flickering across her face. "We've dealt a blow, but the agency won't go down without a fight. They'll strike back harder than we've ever seen."
"Then we need to be ready," Cassie said, a fierce determination settling over her exhaustion. "We're not done yet. Not until we make sure they can't recover."
A sharp knock on the hidden door upstairs snapped both women to attention. Cassie felt her heart lurch into her throat, her eyes darting to Anya. Neither spoke as the knock came again, this time more insistent.
Anya moved silently to the base of the stairs, listening. After a tense moment, a voice called out—low, familiar.
"Cassie. Anya. It's Emil."
Cassie exhaled shakily, relief washing over her. Anya pressed a finger to her lips, signaling silence before carefully ascending the stairs to check the peephole. She nodded once and opened the door, allowing Emil to slip inside.
He was out of breath, his dark coat wet with morning dew. "You've set the city on fire," he said, a hint of grim amusement in his voice.
"Good," Cassie said, crossing her arms. "That was the point."
Emil's expression hardened. "Then you should know that it's not just the agency on the move. Their allies, those who profit from their secrets, are mobilizing too. The files didn't just expose the agency; they implicated people with deep connections and deeper pockets."
Anya's eyes narrowed. "How long before they find us?"
"Not long," Emil admitted. "But I have something that might help."
He reached into his coat and pulled out a small USB drive. "Contacts have intercepted a transmission. The agency is planning a response, a high-profile assassination to distract from the fallout and prove their power. They'll use it to rally fear and control the narrative."
Cassie's blood ran cold. "Who's the target?"
Emil hesitated, his eyes flicking between them. "A political reformer in Paris. Someone pushing for transparency in intelligence agencies across Europe."
Anya swore under her breath. "If they succeed, it'll shift public focus and give them a chance to regroup."
Cassie's mind raced. They couldn't let the agency regain its grip, not after they'd managed to crack it. "We need to stop this. If we can expose them before the hit, it'll backfire."
Emil nodded. "I can get you the intel on their operation, but it'll mean moving quickly. And it will be dangerous."
A smile, sharp and unyielding, crossed Anya's face. "We've come this far. What's a little more danger?"
Cassie felt the weight of what lay ahead pressing on her, a storm on the horizon. But within that storm was their only chance to bring down the agency for good.
"Then we do this together," Cassie said, meeting Emil's eyes. "And this time, we make sure there's no coming back for them."
The air in the room shifted, crackling with a shared understanding. They were beyond the point of no return.