CHAPTER 24

The Forgotten Mission

The footage is old and corrupted by time and interference. The colors bleed at the edges and the audio crackles like a dying transmission. But the figures in the video are unmistakable.

Julian and me.

Riley and I sit in silence, watching the playback. The timestamp confirms it—this is from the night he disappeared. My heart pounds against my ribs as I take in the details.

We're moving through a dimly lit corridor, our bodies low, weapons drawn. The walls are cold metal, industrial, a facility long abandoned but still humming with something unseen.

I look strong. Confident. But Julian... he keeps glancing over his shoulder, uneasy. He knows something.

Then, the moment that matters.

In my hands, I see it. A small metallic case. A data drive.

Julian gestures toward it, saying something, but the audio is garbled, reduced to static and fractured syllables. His lips move, his eyes hard, urgent—he's trying to tell me something.

Then—

The screen flickers violently.

Static devours the feed. The shapes blur, the walls seem to dissolve, and the last thing visible before the blackout is Julian reaching for me.

Then, nothing.

I don't move.

I barely breathe.

The silence stretches, thick and suffocating, before I manage to find my voice.

"That's it?" My tone is harsher than I intended, but I don't care. "That's all we get?"

Riley exhales, pressing her fingertips to her temples. "The file is wrecked. It cuts out before we see what happens next."

I don't realize my fists have clenched until I feel my nails digging into my palms.

"We need more," I say. "Run it again."

Riley doesn't move. "Nathan—"

"Run it again."

She hesitates, then obeys, rewinding the footage. We watch it twice. Three times. Each time, the video ends the same way—static swallowing the truth whole.

I grit my teeth.

Somewhere in the wreckage of that night is the answer I need.

Riley isn't done yet. She leans in, fingers flying over the keyboard. "There's residual data here. Even if the footage was wiped, there's something else."

My head snaps toward her. "What kind of something?"

She doesn't answer right away. The glow of the screen reflects in her eyes, her brows furrowing in deep concentration.

Then—

Her breath catches. "Julian uploaded something before the blackout."

The words hit like a jolt of electricity.

I step closer. "Uploaded where?"

She chews her lip. "That's what I'm trying to find out."

---

I push away from the desk, trying to slow my breathing.

I've been trained for every kind of pain.

Fractured ribs? Push through it. Knife wound? Patch it up, keep moving. Sleep deprivation, interrogation, combat—I've endured it all.

But this?

This kind of doubt is a different beast entirely.

I flex my hands, forcing them to steady. The tremor doesn't stop.

I don't remember what happened after that footage cut out. But I remember gunfire. I remember the sharp sting of adrenaline, the split-second instinct of pulling a trigger.

And I remember Julian's last words.

"They lied to us…"

My stomach turns.

Riley watches me carefully. "Talk to me."

I don't answer right away.

Instead, I ask, "Can you trace where Julian sent that file?"

"I'm trying," she says, but there's something in her tone. Hesitation.

I force myself to breathe. "What is it?"

She hesitates for a moment before answering. "Nathan, what if… what if we've been looking at this wrong?"

I frown. "What do you mean?"

She shifts in her chair, searching for the right words. "What if someone altered your memories of that night? What if they erased the parts they didn't want you to see?"

The thought makes my blood run cold.

I've always prided myself on control—of my body, my mind, my actions. The idea that something as fundamental as my own past could have been rewritten is enough to make my pulse skyrocket.

I shake my head. "That's not possible."

But even as I say it, I remember the gaps. The way my mind refuses to replay certain moments. The blank spaces where I should have certainty.

Riley doesn't push, but she doesn't drop it either.

Instead, she focuses back on the screen. "Let's find out where Julian sent that file."

---

Minutes pass. Then an hour.

I pace the room, restless, my mind a tangled mess of memories and questions I can't answer.

Julian knew something. He was trying to warn me.

What if I failed him?

What if I pulled the trigger?

The thought sends a fresh wave of nausea through me.

Then—

Riley inhales sharply.

"I've got it."

I'm at her side in an instant. "Where?"

She doesn't speak.

She just tilts the screen toward me.

I read the words. My breath catches.

No.

It can't be.

I feel like the air has been knocked from my lungs.

Julian's file—his last move before vanishing—was sent to a place I know all too well.

Elias' last known coordinates.

The realization sinks deep, cold, and unshakable.

The pieces are falling into place, and I don't like the picture they're forming.

Julian wasn't just trying to warn me.

He was leading me somewhere.

And if I want the truth, I'll have to follow.