The terminal’s faint hum filled the silence, an almost human sound in the hollow space of the dock. Dust floated through the dim light, and the low drip of water echoed somewhere in the distance. Grey and Lana stood shoulder to shoulder, their shadows long and thin against the metal floor.Lana took a cautious step toward the desk. Her hand hovered over the keyboard, but she hesitated. The screen pulsed faintly, a soft amber light blinking in the corner as though waiting for recognition.Grey watched her closely. “You sure you want to touch that?”She gave a faint smile. “I’ve come too far not to.”Her fingers brushed the keys. The monitor flickered once, twice—then a login field appeared. There was no logo, no title, just a request for identification.Grey leaned closer. “Try your name.”Lana typed Rey, L. The cursor blinked, then the screen went still. For a moment, nothing happened—then the field cleared itself, replaced by a single line of text:ACCESS RESTRICTED – AUTHORIZATION R

The storm didn’t give them a moment’s reprieve. Rain pelted their coats as Grey and Lana ran across the slick pier, the wind tearing at their hair and driving the saltwater into their eyes. The drive thumped against Lana’s chest, a weight both literal and symbolic. Every step felt like they were running not just from Bishop, but from the ghosts of every choice that had led them here.Grey glanced over his shoulder. The pier stretched endlessly behind them, wooden planks slick with water and moss. No sign of Bishop—yet he could feel the man’s presence in every shadow. “He’s out there,” Grey said, voice low but tense. “Waiting for us to make a mistake.”Lana swallowed hard. “Or to get tired.”He gave a grim smile. “We don’t get tired.”They reached the end of the pier and scrambled up the embankment leading to an abandoned warehouse district. The streets were deserted, littered with debris from the earlier storm, streetlights flickering weakly against the downpour. The city felt unreal,

The tunnels beneath the city smelled of damp concrete and rust. Lana’s boots echoed softly as she pressed forward, every step measured. She had memorized the layout in fragments from the maintenance plans she’d glimpsed earlier, and now, in the dim light spilling from the portable flashlight strapped to her chest, the passageways were her map, her refuge, and her trap.The drive in her bag hummed faintly, an almost imperceptible vibration. Lana’s fingers rested lightly against it, feeling the weight of every file, every secret that had been tracked, manipulated, and recorded. Mara Rey’s history, the ledger, the final names—these were not just documents. They were truth laid bare, and truth carried consequences heavier than she had anticipated.Grey’s voice had gone quiet somewhere above the docks. For now, she was alone, and the silence pressed against her ears like a living thing. She knew he was out there, holding Bishop at bay, drawing him into a confrontation that could decide eve

Grey and Lana exited the archives under the pallid morning sky, the drive still clutched tightly in Lana’s hands. Every step toward the street felt heavier, the city’s indifferent hum contrasting sharply with the weight of what they carried.“Where now?” Grey asked, glancing at her.“The old Havel estate,” Lana said, voice low but resolute. “If Seraphine left anything behind, it’ll be there. Letters, files… something that tells us exactly what she intended.”Grey’s brow furrowed. “You really think she planned for us to find her trail?”Lana didn’t answer immediately. She only gripped the drive tighter, as though holding it could guide her forward. “She always did,” she said finally. “Every move, every step, it was part of her design. We just have to follow it carefully.”The drive hummed faintly in her bag, a reminder that the truth was tangible, waiting for them. They navigated the city streets with precision, avoiding the main avenues, slipping through back alleys that had long sinc

The drive out of the maintenance tunnel was quiet, almost unnervingly so. Grey kept his eyes on the road ahead, but Lana’s grip on the drive was tight enough to leave white imprints on her palms. Every shadow along the roadside seemed alive, and every sound—the distant hum of a train, a loose shutter rattling—set her nerves on edge.“Do you think he knows we have it?” she asked, voice low.Grey didn’t answer immediately, his jaw tight, lips pressed into a thin line. Finally, he spoke. “Bishop knows. He always knew. The only question is how fast he’ll move and who he’s willing to sacrifice to get it back.”Lana exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself. “We can’t keep running. Not now. Not when the truth is right here.”Grey nodded once, sharply. “I know. But we need leverage. Whoever is left in the Foundation’s remnants—they won’t negotiate without fear.”The city lights began to appear, fragmented through the fog that lingered over the docks and industrial outskirts. Grey turned the w