The Ghost Protocol

Location: Tavara – Northern Province, Former Military Intelligence Base

A cold wind howled through the desolate compound. Snow blanketed the perimeter, masking the landmines beneath. Only a few knew this place still existed. Even fewer dared enter.

Damien adjusted the thermal jacket over his shoulder as he stepped through the broken gate. Nora followed closely, her gloved hand resting near the concealed firearm at her waist.

"This place doesn't show up on any satellite feed," she murmured.

"That's why it's perfect," Damien said, pushing open the reinforced bunker door.

Inside, the air was stale, but the tech was alive—old servers still running on silent generators, flickering screens displaying encrypted traffic from across the globe.

Langston tapped a terminal. "Encrypted network relay's still operational. This is where Ghost Protocol was triggered."

"Define Ghost Protocol," Nora asked.

Zachary replied, "An off-the-books global retaliation strategy. Created in the event that all legal and diplomatic systems collapse."

"And it looks like Kane activated it," Damien added, eyes narrowing as a surveillance feed came to life.

On the screen: a warehouse in Mumbai exploded. Another clip—an assassination in Berlin. Power plants in Africa shutting down in sequence. Controlled chaos.

"Kane's not just manipulating markets," Langston said. "He's turning off the world."

A secondary feed blinked.

Damien clicked into it.

A voice emerged—deep, filtered, distorted.

"You should not have come this far, Damien Cross. Legacy is not given. It is taken. And you are not ready."

The screen cut to black.

No trace. No origin. No signature.

But Damien recognized the tone. It wasn't just a warning. It was an invitation.

"He knows we're tracking him," Damien muttered. "And now, he's watching."

Suddenly, alarms blared through the compound.

Langston's eyes widened. "Security breach. Internal. They're already inside."

Automatic doors slammed shut.

Damien raised his weapon.

"They're not here to spy," Zachary growled. "They're here to kill us."

But Nora was already moving, flipping open the floor panel to reveal a hidden escape tunnel.

"Then we give them a ghost. Let's vanish."

As the enemy flooded the compound above, Damien, Nora, and their team disappeared into the ice below—ghosts in a war too dangerous for the light.

But Kane would learn soon enough: Damien Cross wasn't the type to run.

He was the type to return—with fire.