BREAK THE HANDLER

A Message in Blood

Dante pressed his palm against the wound on his side.

The bleeding slowed but didn't stop. He'd need stitches. Medical supplies. And a place to think.

One name kept surfacing. Gary Price.

The retired analyst lived in a rundown apartment building on the south side. He was the only person Dante trusted completely. The only one who knew the full story.

Dante left the garage and moved through backstreets for forty minutes. He took three different trains. He switched direction twice.

Paranoia kept him alive.

Gary's building was dark. The hallway light had been broken for months. Dante climbed the stairs to the fourth floor, his boots silent on the concrete.

He knocked twice. Paused. Knocked once more.

No answer.

His hand went to his weapon.

He tried the handle. Unlocked.

The door swung open.

The apartment was destroyed. Furniture overturned. Papers scattered across the floor. A chair lay broken against the wall.

Dante stepped inside, clearing corners. Kitchen. Bathroom. Bedroom.

Empty.

But the smell hit him first. Copper. Thick and fresh.

He followed it to the living room.

Gary Price sat in his armchair. His throat was cut. Deep and precise. Blood soaked his shirt and pooled on the floor beneath him.

His hands rested on his knees. Someone had positioned him like that. Staged him.

Dante's chest tightened. He forced himself to breathe.

He crossed to the body. Checked for a pulse. Nothing. The skin was still warm.

They'd done this recently. While Dante was running from the warehouse.

A message. Webb wanted him to find this. Wanted him to know that every person he cared about was a target.

Dante's jaw clenched. The grief was a knife in his ribs, but he couldn't afford it. Not now.

He searched Gary's pockets. Found nothing.

Then he noticed the right hand. The fingers were curled. Something clutched beneath them.

Dante pried them open.

A scrap of paper. Crumpled. Bloodstained.

He unfolded it.

One word written in Gary's shaky handwriting: "SILO."

His safehouse. The bunker he'd built to fall back on. If Webb knew about the Silo, Dante had nowhere left to hide.

But Gary wrote that. With his dying breath, he left one final message.

Dante stared at the word. His mind raced.

The Silo had been his private project. No one was supposed to know about it. Not Webb. Not Gary. No one.

But Gary found it somehow. And now Webb might know too.

Dante took a photo of the note with his phone. Then he pocketed the paper.

He looked at Gary's face. Peaceful. Almost asleep.

He'd known Gary for eight years. The man had pulled him out of a firefight in Beirut. Had vouched for him when the Agency questioned his loyalty.

Gary believed in him. In the system. In the rules.

Those rules killed him.

Dante closed the man's eyes. His hand was steady.

"I'll burn them all," he whispered.

The words came out cold.

He left the apartment and descended the stairs. His mind was already working. If Webb knew about the Silo, the bunker was compromised. But Gary left that message for a reason.

There was something there. Something important.

Dante stepped into the alley behind the building. The rain started, cold and thin.

He needed to move. The city was a cage. Every street had eyes. Every face could be an enemy.

The Silo was a death trap. But staying above ground was worse.

He checked his wound. Still bleeding. He needed supplies before he did anything else.

His phone vibrated.

A message from an unknown number.

"T-68 hours. The convoy moves. You're out of time."

No signature. No sender.

Dante stared at the screen.

Gary was dead. Webb was hunting him. The clock was counting down.

And the man who started all of this still thought Dante would run.

He typed a reply.

"I know who you are."

He sent it.

Three seconds later, his phone pinged.

"Prove it."

Dante pocketed the device and walked into the rain.

The Silo was a gamble. Maybe a death sentence.

But Gary didn't die for nothing. That note meant something. Webb had sent a message with blood. Now Dante would send one back.

He needed to get to the Silo. Find what Gary left.

And then he needed to make Webb pay.

The rain picked up. The streets emptied.

Dante walked faster.

He didn't look back.

---

When you have nothing left to lose, what stops you from becoming the monster?