Chapter 9: Ghost in the Machine?

The parking garage smelled of damp concrete and rusting metal the air thick with the residue of exhaust fumes. Elizabeth stood over the unconscious man her breath steadying as she pushed aside the lingering unease. This wasn't just another cleanup job. This was personal. Someone had gone through the trouble of sending a trained operative after her someone who knew how she operated. That meant only one thing: she had underestimated them.

She crouched beside the man, her fingers deftly patting him down. No phone, no wallet. No ID. Expected. But in his inner jacket pocket, she found something else a slim, black keycard. Her fingers brushed over its smooth surface, the faintest imprint of a logo in the corner. It was familiar, but she couldn't place it.

She slid it into her pocket, then stood, rolling her shoulders. Time to move.

The distant sound of sirens crawled through the night air. She had minutes, at best, before someone stumbled upon the scene. It was time to disappear.

Elizabeth moved quickly, dragging the unconscious man into the shadow of a nearby pillar. He wouldn't stay down forever, but she had bought herself enough time. Slipping back into her car, she started the engine and pulled out of the garage, merging seamlessly with the flow of city traffic.

The streets stretched ahead in a labyrinth of neon and steel, but her mind was elsewhere. The keycard burned in her pocket like a loaded gun. She needed to figure out what it unlocked. More than that, she needed to find out who was pulling the strings. Liam was a problem, but he wasn't the only one. She was starting to suspect he wasn't even the real threat.

She drove with precision, taking an indirect route to an old safe house she hadn't used in years. It was a run-down apartment on the outskirts of the city, its walls marked with time and neglect. Perfectly forgettable. She parked two blocks away, taking the rest of the way on foot, her senses tuned to every shadow and whisper of movement.

Inside, dust coated every surface, the air stale with disuse. She locked the door behind her and moved to the small table near the window, setting the keycard down in front of her. She pulled out a burner phone, dialing a number from memory.

A groggy voice answered on the third ring. "This better be good."

"I need a trace," she said, ignoring the irritation in the voice.

A pause. Then, more alert now, "On what?"

She flicked the keycard with her fingers. "A keycard. No markings, except a faded logo. Looks like corporate security."

A low whistle. "You're playing with fire again, Kane."

She didn't bother responding. They both knew the answer.

The voice on the other end sighed. "Fine. Send me a picture. I'll see what I can do."

She ended the call and snapped a photo, sending it off. Then, she waited.

The minutes dragged. Outside, the city pulsed with life, unaware of the war brewing beneath its surface. She checked her gun, reloaded. Every instinct screamed at her that she was running out of time.

Then, her phone vibrated.

A single message.

"You're not going to like this."

A second later, an image loaded. A corporate database entry, the logo now crisp and clear.

Her blood ran cold.

The logo belonged to Halcyon Industries.

A name she hadn't heard in years. A name that shouldn't have been tied to any of this.

Another baby child of O'Sullivan family"

Halcyon wasn't just another corporation of this single family. They were bigger than that. Government contracts, private security, black ops work that never made it to the light of day. If they were involved, then this wasn't just about Liam. This was about something much, much worse.

Her fingers tightened around the phone.

She had spent years burying the past, severing ties, making sure no one could trace her back to Halcyon. And yet, somehow, they had found her.

Or maybe… they had never stopped watching.

Elizabeth inhaled slowly, forcing her pulse to steady. She had two choices—run, or fight.

But she had never been the running type.

She picked up the keycard, her mind already calculating the next move.

It was time to get some answers.

Even if it meant walking straight into the fire.

Elizabeth didn't waste time. She grabbed a duffel bag from the closet and checked its contents—a backup firearm, spare ammo, burner phones, and a few stacks of cash. Her emergency kit was still intact. She slung it over her shoulder and stepped back into the night.

She took the subway two stops down before switching to a rideshare, careful to avoid security cameras. If Halcyon was watching, she couldn't afford to leave a trail.

She arrived at a quiet café on the edge of downtown. The lights were dim, the place nearly empty except for a lone man sitting in the far corner. He wore a cheap suit and glasses, but Elizabeth knew better than to trust appearances.

She slid into the seat across from him without a word. He didn't look up from his tablet, but his fingers tapped a rapid rhythm against the screen—a silent code.

She responded with her own—a single tap against the table's surface. I need information.

He exhaled through his nose, finally meeting her gaze. "You're either desperate or suicidal," he murmured.

"Maybe both," she admitted. "Tell me what you know."

He hesitated, then reached into his jacket and pulled out a folder. "Halcyon has been making moves. They've restructured, pulled old assets back into the fold. And," he hesitated, "they've put out a retrieval order."

Elizabeth's stomach twisted. "For what?"

"For you."

Her grip on the table tightened. "Why now?"

"No idea. But they want you back."

She shook her head. "That's not happening."

His mouth pressed into a thin line. "Then you need to disappear. For good this time."

She leaned in. "Or I could go to them first."

He frowned. "That's insane."

"Maybe. But I don't like being hunted."

He sighed, rubbing his temples. "If you're going to do this, you need a plan."

"I always do."

Elizabeth rose, pocketing the folder. She had a location. She had a name.

Now, it was time to end this on her terms.

She didn't sleep that night. Instead, she poured over the information, tracing connections, unraveling O'Sullivian's Halcyon web. Every lead pointed back to a single facility outside the city a research lab disguised as a medical complex. If they wanted her back, the answers would be there.

By dawn, she was already on the move. She ditched her old phone, picked up a new burner, and secured transportation. As she drove toward the outskirts, her mind honed in on the mission.

Infiltrate. Extract information. And if necessary burn it all down.

The night was restless, thick with the weight of unspoken threats. Elizabeth walked with purpose, her steps measured and deliberate. The city hummed around her, a symphony of neon lights and the distant echoes of sirens.

She had spent years escaping shadows, but tonight, she was stepping into one willingly.

Halcyon Industries. The name alone was a warning as it named O'Sullivian family, a whispered legend among those who dealt in secrets and blood. It wasn't just another corporation; it was a machine that thrived on control. And now, that machine had set its sights back on her.

She checked the time. 3:47 AM. The streets were empty enough to move unnoticed. Elizabeth knew she had only one chance to get ahead of this. The keycard in her pocket was the first breadcrumb, but she needed more. She needed access, leverage—anything to turn the hunt around.

She made her way to the only place that could provide those answers: an abandoned building on the south side of the city, a shell of what used to be a Halcyon outpost before they deemed it obsolete. If there were any lingering traces of their old operations, she would find them there.

The building loomed in the darkness, its windows shattered, rust curling along the metal framework. It was a carcass of its former self. But Elizabeth knew better than to trust appearances. If Halcyon had left behind even the faintest digital footprint, she would find it.

She moved swiftly, slipping through a side entrance, careful not to disturb the layers of dust that had settled over time. The air was thick with the scent of decay and neglect. She pulled a small flashlight from her jacket, casting a pale beam over the skeletal remains of the office space.

A broken desk. A filing cabinet pried open and emptied long ago. Discarded coffee cups, evidence of a hurried departure.

Her gaze landed on the far wall an old server rack, covered in dust but still standing. Hope flickered in her chest. If there was anything left to salvage, it would be there.

She crouched, pulling out a compact device from her bag. A data extractor small, discreet, but powerful enough to pull fragments of old files from dead hardware. She connected it to the rusted-out server and held her breath as the device whirred to life.

Minutes passed. Then, a soft beep.

Data recovered: 12%.

She exhaled slowly, fingers tapping against her knee as she watched the percentage crawl upward.

34%.

52%.

A noise.

Elizabeth froze. The soft crunch of footsteps against debris. Close. Too close.

She killed the flashlight, melting into the shadows. Her breath slowed, controlled. She reached for her weapon, fingers curling around the grip.

Another step. Then silence.

Whoever it was, they weren't making mistakes. They knew she was here.

Her mind raced. If they were Halcyon, this wasn't just a sweep—this was an extraction. And she was the target.

The data extractor vibrated against her palm. 87%.

She had to make a choice.

Fight. Or run.

Elizabeth made her decision in a heartbeat.

Run.

She yanked the data extractor from the rusted server, stuffing it into her jacket pocket. The moment she moved, the sound of a weapon being drawn cut through the silence. A warning.

"Don't."

A male voice, calm and composed. Trained.

Elizabeth pressed her back against the wall, mind calculating angles, cover, exit points. The room was too open. If she tried to bolt, she'd be exposed. She had to be smarter than that.

She let the silence stretch, let the tension build. The air between them was thick with expectation. Then, she made her move.

A flashbang.

The device left her hand before the voice could react, clattering against the floor. She squeezed her eyes shut just as it detonated. The room exploded in white-hot light and a deafening crack.

She was moving before the echo faded.

Through the haze, she caught the shadowed figure staggering back, disoriented. She didn't stop to confirm the damage—she sprinted toward the far hallway, her boots barely making a sound against the dust-covered floor.

A shot rang out. A bullet splintered the doorframe inches from her head.

No time to hesitate.

Elizabeth threw her weight against the exit door, slamming through into the alley beyond. Cold night air hit her lungs like a punch. She didn't stop. She took off down the narrow street, weaving between rusting dumpsters and crumbling walls.

Behind her, the pursuer recovered quickly. Their footsteps pounded against the pavement, closing in.

Elizabeth reached into her jacket, gripping the edge of a smoke grenade. One chance. She pulled the pin and let it drop behind her, filling the alley with thick, choking fog. The sound of the approaching footsteps stuttered as the pursuer hesitated.

Not enough to lose them completely.

She cut left at the next intersection, slipping through a broken fence into an abandoned lot. The old train station loomed ahead—her best chance of escape. If she could reach the underground tunnels before they got their bearings, she'd be gone.

Her pulse hammered as she reached the station's shattered entrance, the darkness swallowing her whole. Inside, it smelled of mildew and rust, the remnants of a forgotten world.

She didn't slow until she reached the stairwell leading to the tunnels below. The metal door was rusted, but she forced it open, slipping inside just as another gunshot cracked through the night. The bullet sparked off the concrete inches from her.

Elizabeth slammed the door shut and ran.

The tunnels stretched before her in endless darkness, but she knew the path. She had mapped escape routes years ago, back when survival had been more than just a skill it had been instinct.

She moved quickly, weaving through the maze of underground pathways, breath steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen.

Silence.

She stopped, pressing a hand against the cold stone wall, listening. No footsteps. No movement. She had lost them.

For now.

Elizabeth exhaled, finally allowing herself a moment to check the data extractor. The small screen flickered to life, showing the download was intact. Whatever information she had pulled from Halcyon's abandoned outpost, it was still there.

She tucked it back into her pocket and straightened, already planning her next move.

This was no longer just about finding answers.

Halcyon had sent someone after her.

Which meant they were afraid.

And fear meant they had something to hide.

Elizabeth smiled to herself, a sharp, knowing grin.

It was time to find out what.