The warehouse stood in silence, rust eating through the beams, windows smashed out long ago. It smelled like oil, mold, and something older—like time had been rotting here. His boots crunched over broken glass as the hum of the engine died.
Ayla stepped out behind him, hugging herself as the cold bit through her sleeves. Her eyes swept over the scene—crates stacked like forgotten cargo, walls scrawled with faded graffiti, and a fire escape twisted like it hadn't seen use in years. Every instinct told her this wasn't safety. It was a setup waiting to happen.
"You always bring women to charming spots like this?" she muttered.
Silas didn't look back. "Only the ones someone's trying to kill."
She let out a sharp laugh—no humor in it. "Great. I feel special."
Silas moved ahead, slipping through a tilted doorway, and Ayla followed close behind. The city's noise vanished the moment they stepped inside, replaced by the echo of their footsteps and the steady drip of water—each drop a slow beat in the growing tension.
"Some idea of safe," she muttered, brushing grit from her sleeve after ducking under a bent steel beam.
"It's not permanent," Silas replied. "And it's off-grid."
They reached the center of the cavernous space. Silas motioned toward a crate. "Sit."
Ayla remained standing, feet firmly on the cracked concrete, arms crossed tightly. Her stance radiated control, even though the night was far from calm.
"I've been patient," she said quietly. "It's time you start talking."
Silas exhaled deeply and peeled off his jacket, dropping it over the back of a rusted chair. The rush from earlier was gone now, leaving only a bone-deep weariness pressing down on him.
"Ever come across the name Kallos Consortium?"
Ayla squinted. "It's a shipping company. My father mentioned them a couple of times. Why?"
"That's just the surface. Underneath?" He leaned against a beam. "They move more than containers."
"Like?"
"Arms deals. Military contracts. Blackmail. They don't leave trails—just bodies. And the guy pulling the strings is named Wellington."
The name hit like a slap.
"Wellington?" Her voice dropped. "He's real?"
"I saw him," Silas said. "In a NexaCore garage. I was tailing someone—low-risk job. Then I spotted a handoff. Flash drive. Faces I recognized from redacted files."
"You took a picture," she said, voice tightening.
"One photo. It was enough."
Ayla turned away, something cold knotting in her chest. She thought of her father in those final weeks—tense, distracted, always locking doors.
"You think he was involved?"
Silas hesitated. "I think he knew."
Her voice cracked, barely. "They said his car exploded because of a mechanical failure."
"I've read those reports," Silas said. "And I've seen how Kallos covers their messes."
Silence fell—thick and heavy. A mix of grief and recognition hung in the air.
Then Silas reached into his pocket and pulled out a flash drive. "Encrypted. A copy of the photo. There's a guy—Ashur. If anyone can unlock it, it's him."
Ayla didn't take it. Her eyes didn't move from his face. "Why give this to me?"
"I'm not giving it," he said simply. "But you deserve the truth."
Her fingers hovered near her purse. She didn't reach for it. No need. The recorder tucked in a hidden seam had been rolling since they left the car.
She still hadn't decided what to do with it.
"You said there was a handoff," she said. "You recognize the other guy?"
"No. But he moved like military. Eastern European accent. Ink down his arms—symbols I didn't recognize. It wasn't just a trade. It was coordinated."
Her heart skipped. "I found something in my father's files. A reference—'Project Vanir.' Hidden deep."
Silas froze. "That I've heard. Whispers. Illegal biotech. Off-record, military-grade. If your father had that…"
"He wasn't just involved," she finished. "He was a threat."
She stepped back, the air pressing heavy against her. But beneath the fear, something sharper clicked into place.
Resolve.
"Then I'm staying," she said. "You're not the only one chasing answers."
He looked at her—really looked. Not as a problem, or a passenger. As an ally.
Silas tossed the drive onto the crate between them.
"Then we do this together."
She didn't smile. Just nodded.
For the first time since this began, neither of them was alone.
Not anymore.