Under Crimson Eyes

Part 4: The Betrayer's Pact

Trust is a weapon. And Elena Voss had just handed it to a man trained to kill.

Snow drifted across the Swiss Alps as Damien stitched his side with shaking fingers. Elena sat on the stone floor of the safehouse, a small woodstove hissing between them. The stolen USB lay on the table, humming faintly, its secrets yet to be unlocked.

"We won't survive another ambush," she said.

"Then let's not give them one."

She didn't flinch. "You're still hiding something."

Damien didn't deny it. "Not everything is mine to give."

She grabbed the USB, turning it over in her palm. "This holds everything? The full Crimson formula, the test logs, locations?"

He nodded. "And the names of those who built it. Including the one man you've never questioned."

A chill that had nothing to do with the snow ran down her spine.

"You're not talking about Orlov."

"No."

He met her gaze.

"I'm talking about Director Sandor."

Her handler. Her mentor.

The man who had guided her through grief after her brother's death.

Elena stood. "You're lying."

Damien rose too, wincing. "Your brother found out too late. Sandor was never clean. He used Crimson on allies. Enemies. Civilians. Your brother tried to leak it. Sandor made sure he never did."

Her hands trembled, fury and denial colliding.

Then the safehouse lights went out.

"Get down!" Damien shouted.

Gunfire shattered the windows. A flash grenade rolled in.

White heat. Screams.

Elena grabbed the drive and tackled Damien behind the stove as it exploded, fire licking the ceiling.

Footsteps. Voices. The enemy was here.

She pulled Damien through a trapdoor under the rug, sealing it behind them.

Darkness swallowed them.

Underground Escape Route — Hours Later

Elena's hands were cut, her lungs raw, but she kept moving through the narrow tunnel.

Damien limped beside her.

"We need allies," she said. "Someone who can crack this."

"I know a man in Prague. A ghost. He can decrypt without pinging any global net."

She hesitated. "And you trust him?"

"I don't trust anyone," he said. "But he owes me his life."

Prague – 2 Days Later

The man was a hacker known only as Cricket. He lived in the catacombs under a cathedral, his lair lit by neon cables and humming servers.

Cricket took one look at the USB and whistled.

"This isn't code. This is a warhead."

"You can open it?" Elena asked.

Cricket nodded. "But once I do, there's no going back."

She gave a tight nod.

"Do it."

3 Hours Later

The data streamed across the screens.

Names. Dossiers. Missions.

Code-names like VULTURE, LEVIATHAN, and finally—

VOSS.

Her own.

The screen blinked: SUBJECT-043: ELENA VOSS — CRIMSON COMPATIBLE — CLEARED FOR PHASE 2.

Elena's knees buckled.

"No," she whispered. "That's not possible."

Damien caught her before she fell.

"You were a test subject."

"They wiped me…?"

"No," he said. "They planned to. But your brother pulled you out just in time. That's why he died. Not just because he leaked Crimson—because he saved you from it."

Tears blurred her vision.

"And Sandor?" she asked, voice hollow.

Cricket turned.

"GPS ping just lit up. Sandor's in Vienna. Big meeting. No encryption. Like he wants to be found."

Damien looked at Elena. "He's baiting us."

She stared at her file on the screen.

"No," she said.

"He's challenging me."

Vienna – 24 Hours Later

The ballroom of the Imperial Hotel shimmered with crystal and corruption. Politicians danced while secrets bled through the walls.

Elena wore a black evening gown, a knife strapped to her thigh. Damien, in a tailored suit, moved beside her like a shadow.

They entered separately.

Sandor waited in the mezzanine.

He raised his glass as Elena approached.

"You always had a flair for the dramatic," he said.

"You betrayed my family."

"No," he replied. "I used your family. Like all tools, they served a purpose. And when tools wear out—"

Elena's slap echoed through the room.

Sandor barely flinched.

"You think killing me will stop Crimson?" he said.

She stepped closer, blade in hand.

"No. But it'll feel damn good."

Just as she lunged—gunfire.

Chaos erupted.

Sandor ducked.

Damien tackled Elena aside as bullets rained.

Crimson agents swarmed from balconies.

"It's a trap!" Damien shouted.

They ran.

Hotel Basement

Panic echoed above as alarms blared.

Elena threw a grenade behind them, sealing the exit.

"We're not walking out of here alive," Damien said.

"We don't have to," she replied, pulling a detonator.

"The USB drive?" he asked.

She nodded. "Cricket uploaded it to six clouds. If we die, it still goes public."

Damien smiled grimly.

"You never were just a weapon, Elena."

"And you were never just a criminal."

A pause.

Then they kissed.

Fierce. Final. Real.

The door burst open—

Elena pressed the trigger—

White light.