The night air was thick with the scent of salt and rust as Aaron, Lena, and Fletcher approached Pier 17. The docks stretched out before them, quiet but not empty. Cargo containers cast long shadows, and the occasional flickering floodlight bathed the wet pavement in pale, artificial light. The city loomed in the distance, its glow barely touching the forgotten edges of the waterfront.
Aaron adjusted the strap of his shoulder holster, his eyes scanning the dark corners of the pier. "We stick to the plan. We observe first. If the contact shows, we verify them before making any moves."
Lena nodded, pulling her coat tighter around her. "And if it's a setup?"
"Then we don't stick around to find out," Fletcher muttered, already checking the slide of his pistol. "Let's move."
They split up, positioning themselves at different vantage points. Aaron took cover behind a stack of wooden crates, his breath slow and steady as he surveyed the meeting spot. A single bench sat beneath a rusted lamppost, its light flickering as if unsure whether to hold or surrender to the darkness. The rhythmic crash of waves against the pier filled the silence, a reminder of how isolated they were. This was a place where bodies could disappear, where secrets could be buried beneath the murky depths.
Minutes stretched, the silence punctuated only by the lapping of water against the docks. Then, a figure emerged from the shadows, moving with cautious steps toward the bench. A hood concealed most of their face, but the tension in their posture was clear.
Aaron's grip tightened on his weapon. He exchanged a glance with Lena, who signaled for patience. Fletcher remained unseen, his position unknown even to them—a safeguard in case things went sideways.
The figure sat, hands resting on their lap. A full minute passed before they spoke.
"I know you're watching. Might as well come out."
Aaron took a measured breath before stepping into the dim glow of the lamppost. "You were expecting us?"
The hooded figure chuckled softly, but there was no humor in it. "I was expecting someone. The fact that you're here means Peter didn't make it."
Aaron didn't answer right away. He studied the figure, noting the slight tremor in their hands, the way their shoulders hunched—fear, exhaustion, or both. The air between them felt charged, as if the city itself was holding its breath.
"Who are you?" Lena asked, stepping beside Aaron.
The figure hesitated, then slowly pulled back their hood. A woman, mid-thirties, sharp features softened by weariness. Her eyes, dark and alert, flicked between them. "My name is Sarah Langley. I used to work for them."
Fletcher's voice came from the darkness. "Them? You mean the people Peter was investigating?"
Sarah flinched but nodded. "He was getting close. Too close. They killed him for it. And if you don't walk away from this, they'll come for you too."
Aaron exhaled, his mind racing. "Then you better tell us everything."
Sarah looked over her shoulder, then back at them. "Not here. If they're watching, we don't have much time. There's a place we can talk—somewhere safer. But once I tell you what I know, there's no turning back."
Aaron glanced at Lena and Fletcher. They had already crossed that line the moment they picked up Peter's trail.
"Then let's go," he said.
They moved cautiously, keeping to the shadows as they exited the pier. Fletcher took point, scanning their surroundings for any sign of unwanted attention. The city's neon glow flickered in the distance, a stark contrast to the suffocating darkness surrounding them.
Sarah led them through a maze of backstreets, her pace quick but deliberate. She didn't speak, her silence only broken by the occasional glance over her shoulder. It was clear she was afraid. That fear was contagious.
Aaron's instincts screamed that they were being followed. The sensation of unseen eyes pressed against him, a phantom presence lurking in the periphery of his awareness. He fought the urge to turn around, knowing that whoever was out there, they were waiting for the right moment.
They reached an abandoned storefront, its shattered windows covered in plywood. Sarah gestured toward the alley beside it. "In here."
Fletcher hesitated. "How do we know this isn't a trap?"
Sarah's eyes darkened. "You don't. But if I wanted you dead, I wouldn't have met you in public."
Lena gave Aaron a look, then nodded. "We're already in this. Might as well see where it leads."
Inside, the space was cramped and musty, dust clinging to every surface. A single, dim bulb flickered above a rusted table. Sarah took a deep breath before turning to face them.
"Peter didn't just find evidence of corruption. He found proof of something bigger—a network that stretches far beyond this city. These people, the ones who run everything, they don't just control businesses and politics. They control perception. They rewrite reality. If someone gets too close, they don't just disappear. They are erased."
Aaron felt the weight of her words settle over him like a suffocating fog. "Erased?"
Sarah nodded. "Gone. Not just dead—wiped clean. Their existence scrubbed from every record, every database. As if they never lived at all. That's what happened to Peter. And if you keep digging, it will happen to you."
Fletcher crossed his arms. "Then why are you still here? Why haven't they erased you?"
Sarah hesitated. "Because I ran. Because I know something they don't want getting out. And because… I have something Peter left behind."
Aaron's pulse quickened. "What is it?"
She reached into her jacket and pulled out a small, unmarked flash drive. "Everything. Names, transactions, classified projects. Proof that they exist. Proof that they've been operating in the shadows for decades. Peter gave it to me before he disappeared. He told me to run, to keep it hidden. But I can't do this alone anymore."
Lena took a cautious step forward. "If what you're saying is true, then this isn't just about bringing them down. This is about survival."
Sarah swallowed hard. "Yes. And if you want to live, you need to decide now—are you willing to risk everything for the truth?"
Aaron exchanged a look with Lena and Fletcher. The answer had already been decided the moment they stepped onto Pier 17.
Aaron took the flash drive from Sarah's trembling fingers. "We don't walk away. Not now. Not ever."
The bulb above them flickered again, casting their shadows long against the walls. Outside, the city continued its restless hum, unaware of the storm about to break.