BREAK THE HANDLER

The Ghost

Dante sat in a parked car outside the city morgue.

The building was cold. Sterile. Filled with the dead.

He'd been watching for an hour. No movement. No signs of Webb's people.

Gary's words echoed in his head. "Look at the dead."

He got out of the car and entered through the service entrance. The halls were quiet. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead.

The morgue attendant was an old man named Petrov. He'd worked here for thirty years. He knew Dante from past jobs.

"Cross," Petrov said. "I wondered when you'd show up."

"You know why I'm here."

Petrov nodded. "The bodies. You want to see them."

"All of them."

Petrov led him to the cold storage. Rows of metal drawers. Each one held a story. Each one held a secret.

Dante started with Danny. The young courier from the dead drop. Throat cut. Staged.

He examined the body. Looked past the obvious wounds. Checked the hands. The feet. The clothing.

Nothing. Just a dead kid who trusted the wrong people.

Next was Ana. His backup. His friend. Same staging. Same precision.

But something caught his eye. A mark on her wrist. Faint. Almost invisible.

A scar. Old. From a burn.

He remembered that scar. Ana had gotten it years ago, when she'd saved his life in a fire. She'd always hated it. Said it made her look weak.

But the scar was too neat. Too clean. Like it had been touched up. Covered.

Dante's pulse quickened.

He pulled out his phone. Shined a light on the wound.

The scar was fresh. Weeks old, not years.

Someone had created a fake scar on a dead body to make it look like Ana.

Which meant the real Ana might still be alive.

He turned to Petrov. "This body. When did it arrive?"

"Three days ago. Same as the others."

"Where was it found?"

"Alley near the dead drop. Same location as the others."

Dante's mind raced. If Ana was alive, she'd been taken. Replaced with a lookalike. Staged to look like she'd been killed.

Gary's message. "Look at the dead."

He'd been looking at the wrong thing. The dead weren't the victims. They were the evidence.

Dante checked Gary's body next. The old man's throat was cut. Same staging. Same precision.

But Gary's hands were different. One was curled. The other was open.

Dante remembered the note. The one Gary had left. "SILO."

He'd assumed it was a message about the safehouse. But what if it was something else?

He examined Gary's hand. The curled fingers. The way they were positioned.

Like he was holding something. Or pointing at something.

Dante followed the direction of the hand. It pointed toward the floor. Toward a drain.

He crouched down. Examined the drain. It was loose.

He pried it open. Inside was a small key. Rusted. Old.

Dante pocketed it.

"What's that?" Petrov asked.

"Gary's final message. He wasn't pointing at the Silo. He was pointing at something hidden inside it."

Dante stood. His mind was clear now.

Ana was alive. Gary had hidden something in the Silo. The key was proof.

But who was the traitor? Who had staged the bodies? Who had killed Gary?

He thought about it. The precision. The staging. The attention to detail.

Only one person had that kind of skill. One person who knew Dante's methods. His patterns. His weaknesses.

His old partner. The man who'd trained him.

Webb.

But Webb couldn't be everywhere. He'd had help.

Someone inside the operation. Someone who'd been feeding him information.

Dante thought about Gary's other words. "The second source. Someone who's been with you from the start."

His blood ran cold.

There was only one person who fit that description. One person who'd been there from the beginning. One person who'd never been truly tested.

Naomi.

But she'd been compromised. She'd sold him out before. She'd been forced to betray him.

Or had she?

What if the betrayal wasn't forced? What if it was planned from the start?

Dante pulled out his phone. Typed a message to Naomi.

"Where are you?"

The reply came fast. "Safe. The prisoners are secure. I'm at the cabin."

"Stay there. I'm coming to you."

He pocketed the phone. Turned to Petrov.

"Burn these bodies," he said. "All of them. Make sure no one finds them."

Petrov nodded. "Understood."

Dante left the morgue. The sun was rising. The city was waking.

He had a key. A location. And a suspect.

Naomi. The woman who'd been with him from the start. The woman who'd sold him out and then claimed redemption.

If she was the traitor, everything made sense. The betrayal. The information leaks. The set-ups.

She'd been playing him all along.

Dante got in his car and drove toward the cabin.

His hand rested on his weapon.

If Naomi was the traitor, he'd know soon enough.

And when he did, he'd end it.

One bullet. One decision.

No more games.

The road stretched ahead. The mountains loomed in the distance.

Dante pushed the accelerator.

The final reckoning was coming.

---

Would you trust someone who came back from the dead, even if the evidence pointed to her betrayal?