CHAPTER 8

The USB drive is small, cold against my fingers. I turn it over, feeling its weight. Not just plastic and metal—something more. Something important. I found it in my jacket, hidden in a secret pocket I don't even remember using. My mind races. How long has it been there? Did I hide it myself? Or did someone else?

My pulse is steady, but my breathing is shallow. I don't like unknowns. And right now, my whole life is an unknown.

I grab the disposable laptop from the motel desk and power it up. It's slow, the kind of cheap tech I use when I don't want to be traced. The motel's Wi-Fi is useless, but I'm not connecting to anything. I slide the USB into the port, my fingers hovering over the keyboard.

The files are a mess. Corrupt data. Half-erased fragments. Someone tried to destroy this information, but they didn't do a clean job.

One document is still readable.

I lean forward, the glow of the screen the only light in the room.

You made the right choice, Nathan. But they will never let you walk away.

I stare at the words, my breath caught in my chest. The headache returns, a sharp pain behind my eyes. Pressure builds, like my brain is trying to force something to the surface.

I made the right choice?

My fingers curl into a fist. What choice?

I force myself to breathe. To focus. There must be more. I start digging through the file, trying to recover what I can. Most of it is still scrambled, but bits of code flash on the screen—dates, locations, encrypted text.

Who tried to erase these files?

More importantly—why?

Tension coils in my muscles. This drive didn't appear out of nowhere. Someone wanted me to find it.

I glance at the motel door, suddenly aware of how alone I am. Or maybe I'm not.

Standing, I move to the window, careful not to shift the curtain too much. The parking lot is mostly empty. A few cars. An old pickup that looks abandoned. A black sedan two spaces from mine. Nothing obvious.

But I've been hunted before. I know better than to assume I'm safe.

I sit back down, working faster. I push past the corrupted files, breaking through more layers. Another fragment appears, broken but readable.

The Oath will never stop. If you see this, you already know too much.

My heartbeat slows. Not in fear. In understanding.

This is proof. I was right to run.

The Oath trained me. Used me. Turned me into a weapon. But at some point, I must have realized the truth. I must have seen something—something that made me turn against them.

And now, I'm starting to remember.

The sound of tires crunching gravel outside makes my body go still.

I reach for my gun. The weight of it is familiar, grounding. The motel walls feel thinner now, like I can hear every breath outside. Every movement in the dark.

I move to the window again. The sedan's door opens. A figure steps out. Dark clothing. Careful, controlled movements. Not lost. Not fumbling.

They know exactly where they're going.

I grip the gun tighter, body lowering into a ready stance. My breathing evens out.

Then—a knock at the door.

Not rushed. Not loud. Calm. Deliberate.

They don't call out. They don't want attention.

I don't move. I listen. Weight shifting outside. A slow inhale. The quiet sound of a weapon being drawn.

I flick off the safety on my gun. My pulse is steady now.

Another knock.

Then, a voice—low and measured.

"Nathan, open the door. We need to talk."

A beat of silence.

Then the voice drops lower.

"Before it's too late."

I don't recognize it. But something about it makes my headache spike.

I exhale through my nose. Think. The back window? Possible escape. But if they aren't alone, I could be walking into an ambush.

The alternative? Face them. Head-on.

I make my decision.

I move to the door and unlock it—but I don't open it yet.

"Who are you?" My voice is cold, steady.

A pause. Then—"You already know."

My stomach tightens.

I pull the door open, gun raised, finger on the trigger.

And then I freeze.

The man standing before me isn't a stranger.

It's Elias Graves.

And the worst part?

I remember him now.

And I remember why I should be afraid.