The sun hadn’t yet risen when the steel doors of the FBI’s Cyber Division creaked open, It was too early for visitors. Too early for threats. And much too early for legends to come walking in from the dead.Agent Ayla Trent had been nursing her third cup of coffee when the internal alert pinged her console, Unscheduled breach at main entrance. Subject unarmed. Demanding immediate surrender.She barely glanced up. The security system flagged dozens of false positives every week, drunks, conspiracy theorists, failed YouTubers who believed the FBI owed them secrets. Most ended in a warning. A few in cuffs.This one would’ve gone the same way Until the facial recognition software returned a hit.Subject match: Raymond Cassian – DECEASED.The mug slipped from her hand and shattered across the floor, The name didn’t just ring a bell. It set off alarms.Raymond Cassian was a myth. The kind of story old agents whispered to scare rookies straight. A man who’d existed in the folds of history, t

The air inside FBI HQ was heavy, Not with noise, but with silence. The kind of silence that settles after a breach. After someone trusted turns out to be the enemy. And someone nearly dies.Ayla stood in front of the mission board, a map of encrypted call traces and financial trails glowing in blue. Every line ended with the same face: Benjamin Grae. Or rather, ended where he used to be.Grae had vanished again. No heat signatures, no comms, no flights. Like he’d stepped back into the mist.But Ayla’s mind wasn’t on Grae anymore. It was on the fact that only four people had access to her mission file… and one of them had leaked it.Langford’s voice broke her concentration. “I’m assigning a sweep team. Quiet. Internal only. We’ll find the leak.”“No,” she said, turning to him. “Don’t send anyone yet.”Langford frowned. “You want to let the mole roam free?”“I want them to feel free. They’re watching me. Good. Let them.”“And if they strike again?”She looked him dead in the eye. “Then

The cursor blinked.Target Three: Charlotte Trent.Status: Deceased.Note: Death classified. Case sealed.Ayla stared at her screen, blood roaring in her ears. Mother. She barely remembered the crash. Just twisted metal, sirens, someone screaming her name. She’d been twelve, bruised, but alive. Her mother hadn’t been so lucky.Or so she was told, Now Cassian was telling her something else. Not an accident. A cover-up. She pushed the screen away, stood abruptly, and paced. Her mind clawed at the past, at the small details that had never made sense:The sealed autopsy report, The file marked Classified, Domestic Counterintel in the death registry, Her father’s silence, he’d shut down anytime she asked about it. And now this.“The Lark.”A codename. A designation used only by embedded field operatives, Her mother had been a spy.Later that morning, Ayla accessed the black-ops archives buried behind the FBI’s internal firewall. She had no clearance but Cassian had given her a skeleton key

2:07 a.m... Ayla sat in silence. The glow of her screen lit her face like a ghost’s, The drive Elijah Vex had given her was secure, military-grade encryption, wrapped in a dead man's biometric lock. But Cassian had taught her well. Ten minutes later, she cracked it.And what she saw… wasn’t a file, It was a video, Timestamp: Caracas – 11 years ago.The footage began with Cassian’s voice. "Operation Jade Crucible. Day seven, Lark has gone off-mission. She’s trying to stop Phase Four."The camera wobbled. It was a helmet cam, body-mounted. Rain poured through a jungle thicket. Gunfire cracked in the distance, Then she appeared.Charlotte Trent, Ayla’s mother.Drenched, breathing heavily, wounded, She was yelling at someone just off-screen. “They’ve got children in the compound, Ray! This isn’t a strike, this is a purge!”Then Cassian’s voice again. Closer this time. Calm. Cold. “We don’t abort, Charlotte. You know the directive.”“Then burn the directive.”Charlotte raised her gun, not

3:12 a.m. – Blacksite 17... Ayla stood over the table, watching the encrypted file Cassian had quietly dropped onto the server.Target #4:Name: Abram LangfordAlias: OverseerPosition: FBI DirectorStatus: ActiveAffiliation: Foundation LiaisonPriority: CriticalShe didn’t speak. She didn’t move, Because that name… meant everything, Langford was her handler. Her boss. The one man who’d vouched for her when the agency had tried to bench her. The one man who’d never flinched, until now.Cassian finally broke the silence. “I didn’t want to show you this yet.”“Why now?” Ayla asked quietly.“Because Cain’s next phase requires an asset inside the Bureau. Langford isn’t just a leak, he’s a node. He routes intel. Approves black budgets. Silences investigations. And he’s kept Glasswork alive for over a decade.”Ayla turned to him, fury flashing behind her eyes. “You’re asking me to take down the one person who saved my career.”“I’m asking you to finish what your mother started.”That cut d