THE ALOGORITHM OF POWER, MOP AND DAGGER

Chapter Two — The Closet of Ghosts (Part 1/4)

For one raw second, neither of them breathed. The flickering bulb above cast Ella’s face in shards of shadow, her eyes locked on the phone glowing in Bradley’s hand. The green words pulsed like a heartbeat: TARGET ACQUIRED.

Bradley’s fingers spasmed to cover the screen. Too late. She’d seen it, Ella’s voice was soft, deliberate. “What… is that?”

Bradley’s mouth opened, but the air refused to shape into words. His mind scrambled for excuses, maintenance logs, a system update, but her gaze cut through lies like glass.

“It’s nothing,” he managed hoarsely. “Just, just junk.”

Ella stepped closer, so close the faint scent of her perfume, jasmine and steel, brushed against the stench of bleach. “That doesn’t look like junk.”

Bradley forced his body between her and the glow, tucking the phone behind him. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Neither should you.”

The silence between them thickened until the bulb above buzzed and popped, plunging them into near-darkness. Only the phone’s glow remained, eerie green light painting both their faces. Ella leaned in, whispering, “Where did you get that?”

Bradley’s pulse hammered. He could still feel the code vibrating in his palm, like the phone wanted to answer her for him. If he told her the truth, she’d run straight to the board, or her father.

If he lied, the code itself might betray him. He didn’t get the chance to decide. The phone flashed violently. The screen exploded with static, then sharpened into a single word: LISTEN.

Both of them flinched. A synthetic voice, cold and flat, bled from the phone’s speaker. Not loud, not human, but undeniable. “Unauthorized presence detected. Sequence compromised.”

Ella’s face drained of color. “What the hell is that?”

Bradley shoved the phone into his pocket, but the voice didn’t stop. “Target lock confirmed. Response team deployed.”

His stomach dropped. Response team? Here? Now? Ella grabbed his arm. “You need to tell me what’s happening. Right now.”

The elevator dinged in the distance. Doors sliding open. Footsteps. More than one. Bradley’s heart seized. The closet suddenly felt too small, the walls pressing in. “We need to move,” he whispered.

Ella hesitated. “Move where?”

“Anywhere but here.”

He shoved past her, dragging her out into the lobby. The polished marble floor gleamed innocently under the floodlights, the waxer still sitting abandoned, mop bucket casting its long shadow. But Bradley’s eyes went straight to the elevator bay. Three men stepped out.

Not security guards. Not executives. Black suits, black gloves, earpieces, movements crisp as blades. Their eyes swept the lobby with the calm efficiency of predators who had done this a hundred times before.

Ella stiffened beside him. “Those aren’t ours.”

Bradley’s phone vibrated against his thigh, the voice hissing one final word: “Eliminate.”

He grabbed Ella’s hand before he could think and pulled her toward the side corridor. She stumbled once, then matched his pace, heels clicking against tile.

Behind them, the men’s footsteps quickened. “Stop!” one barked, voice deep and commanding. “Montrose clearance. Hands where we can see them.”

Bradley’s brain screamed run. He yanked Ella down the service hall, past vending machines and locked offices, until they burst into the stairwell. The echo of their flight thundered off concrete walls.

Ella’s voice cracked with fury and fear. “What have you done?”

Bradley could barely breathe, but the truth slipped out raw, between ragged gasps: “I found something I wasn’t supposed to. And now they’re coming to kill us.”

Her eyes blazed, her grip tightening on his hand, not letting go. The door below burst open. Heavy boots slammed against the stairs.

Bradley yanked Ella upward, two steps at a time, lungs on fire. Every muscle screamed, but the sound of pursuit drove him harder.

Above, a single red EXIT sign glowed like salvation. And then, another door opened above them. More boots. More shadows. Trapped between hunters. Ella’s whisper was barely a breath: “We’re surrounded.”