THE SHADOW AGREEMENT

Chapter Four – The Handler’s Knife

The silence after Cain’s departure was worse than any gunshot, Ayla stood frozen in the server vault, breathing the cold recycled air, surrounded by the hum of power and the knowledge she had just been seen, not by a random enemy, but by a woman who knew Cassian intimately.

Cain hadn’t run, She hadn’t even blinked. That scared Ayla more than anything.

Washington, D.C. – 12 hours later.

Ayla stared at the monitor in the black site lab. Cassian’s encrypted video stream buzzed to life. He looked different this time, tired, eyes slightly bloodshot. And for the first time since this began, he didn’t speak first.

“You told me she was dangerous,” Ayla said. “You didn’t say she used to own you.”

Cassian exhaled slowly. “I didn’t think you’d believe me if I told you the truth.”

“Try me.”

“She recruited me when I was twenty-five,” he said. “Taught me everything I know about shadows, war, psychological control. She ran a splinter wing of the Foundation, the arm no one admitted existed. She made people disappear with a phone call. Entire villages. Entire histories.”

Ayla listened, silent. “She believed in chaos. That the world needed to be shaken every ten years, or it would rot. She taught me how to cut the rot.”

“And you followed her.”

“I believed her,” Cassian admitted. “Until Caracas. Until she made me do something I couldn’t live with.”

“What happened there?”

He didn’t answer right away, Then: “One day, I’ll tell you. But not now.”

Ayla’s voice was sharp. “Why not?”

Cassian leaned in closer to the camera. His eyes were ice. “Because if I tell you what happened in Caracas, Ayla… you’ll never sleep again.”

Later that day, Ayla was called to a Level Seven briefing. Director Langford stood at the head of a sleek black table, joined by two new figures:

Deputy Director Helen Graft, eyes like razors, tasked with internal security, Special Operative Cole Merrin, former field extraction, now reassigned to Ayla's team “for protection.”

Ayla didn't like that word, protection. It meant they didn’t trust her anymore. Graft got to the point.

“There's chatter. We intercepted a coded transmission originating from Cain’s server, sent seconds after your arrival. It was piggybacked on a channel only used by former NSA contractors. Five possible recipients.”

She slid a dossier across the table. “Four of them are clean. The fifth? We’re not sure.”

Ayla opened it. And froze, The fifth name was someone inside her task group, Someone who had access to her mission feed, Someone who had been watching her since the beginning.

Agent Drew Keller. Her mind raced. Keller was quiet. Smart. Low profile. He handled logistical oversight, always the one in the corner during briefings, nodding, never speaking much.

Langford was blunt. “You’ll confront him quietly. No guns. No alarms. We need to be sure.”

That night... Ayla found Keller alone in the archives room. The glow of old monitors cast eerie shadows across his face. “You working late?” she asked casually.

He glanced up, surprised. “Yeah. Cross-referencing Grae’s crypto tags.”

She walked closer. “You ever hear of a handler named Olivia Cain?”

Keller blinked. “From TV?”

“No. From Caracas.”

His fingers twitched, That was all she needed, In one swift motion, Ayla pulled a signal jammer from her pocket and activated it. The room blinked dark, every screen offline, Keller rose slowly. “Bit aggressive, Trent.”

“You leaked Berlin.”

“You have proof?”

“No. Just your twitch.”

His expression changed, like a mask slipping. “You have no idea what you’re walking into.”

“Then explain it.”

He took a step forward. “Cain’s not the enemy. Cassian is. He’s setting you up, just like he set her up in Caracas. You think this is about justice? It’s a power play. You’re his leverage.”

She stared at him. “Then why leak the Berlin location?”

“To force Cassian’s hand,” Keller hissed. “Cain wanted to see how far he’d go. You were bait.”

A pause.

Then he said something that chilled her: “He still hears her voice, you know. In his sleep.”

Ayla left him there, knowing Langford’s agents were seconds away from sweeping in, She didn’t speak on the ride back. Didn’t sleep that night. Didn’t tell Cassian what Keller had said.

Because something in her gut told her It was true, The next morning, the cursor blinked again.

You did well. Keller was sloppy. You’re starting to see the edges, The next name is the hardest. Not because of what they’ve done, but because of what they mean to you. — R

Then a file opened.

Target Three: Charlotte Trent.

Alias: “The Lark.”

Status: Deceased.

Relation: Mother.

Note: Death classified. Case sealed.

Ayla stared at the screen, ice forming in her lungs, Her mother died when she was twelve. She’d been told it was a car crash. Nothing more.

But Cassian had opened a new door, And behind it… was everything she thought she knew. Now shattered.