"The truth doesn't save you, it marks you."
The VNAS office was immersed in contained chaos. The lights flickered, the hallways flowed with whispers, and furtive glances spoke of invisible conspiracies. Amid it all, Evans knew danger was near—but he didn't expect it to come from someone so close.
"Where is Evans? Answer me, Eduardo!" Eliana demanded, slamming the door in his face.
"I can't tell you. Keep your distance," Eduardo replied, shoving her aside.
"Where do you think you're going with that briefcase? That's classified information!" she protested, trying to snatch it from him.
Eduardo didn't respond. The sound of quick footsteps echoed down the corridor.
In another room, Evans was sorting the documents that could expose the Red Moon case when he heard a familiar click. He turned slowly to find Eliana, tears in her eyes and a gun aimed at him.
"You shouldn't have investigated the case. You know some things are meant to stay buried," she said, voice trembling.
How many times had he dreamed of telling her the truth? How many times had he thought of defecting? But fear… fear had always been stronger. And now, there was no turning back.
"Eliana... you were one of the trusted ones. How did we get here?" Evans asked, stepping back.
Eliana… the same one who covered my body with her coat the night I almost died of hypothermia in Kazan. The one who swore loyalty under enemy fire. And now… here she is, hands trembling, with a gun that seems as heavy as her guilt.
The gunshot rang out—but Evans dodged just in time.
"You almost killed me!" he gasped.
I remember the first time she saved my life on the field. I never thought one day she'd try to take it.
"I won't miss next time." Eliana, battling her own conscience, tossed the briefcase toward him.
"Take it and run. But don't forget who helped you today," she said before wreaking havoc in the room—smashing screens and hurling CPUs to the ground.
Evans didn't hesitate. Clutching the briefcase tightly against his chest, he bolted toward the evacuation tunnel as the alarms wailed, a deafening echo chasing him.
Meanwhile, elsewhere, Eliana typed a message on her phone:"Everything went well. I'm out."
In the underground parking lot, Evans arrived breathless, his hands slick with sweat. He faced the ocular scanner. Access denied. A red light flashed with a sharp, piercing beep.
"Damn it…" he growled, glancing around frantically.
A lifeless body lay near the door. The realization struck like lightning, flooding him with revulsion—but he knew he had no choice. He swallowed hard and pulled a pocketknife.
"I'm sorry…" he murmured, more to soothe his conscience than the corpse.
With trembling hands and a grimace of disgust, he made the cut. The blade sank in with a wet, nauseating sound. The eyeball came loose with a slick pop, dangling by a thread-thin nerve. Evans trembled. The metallic scent of blood invaded his nostrils like a slap. The eye slipped into his palm, slick with gore. He approached the scanner, stomach churning and sweat dripping down his face. The reader analyzed the eye. After a moment that felt endless, the light turned green.
The doors opened with a soft hum.
Evans rushed to the car, leaving a smear of blood on the steering wheel as he yanked the door open. He threw the briefcase onto the passenger seat and started the engine. As the vehicle roared to life, he closed his eyes for a second to steady himself.
"All of this… just to survive…" he thought, stepping on the gas and speeding away.
Inside the car, the atmosphere was heavy with tension. Rasen looked at the manila envelope Evans had just handed him.
"Open it," Evans ordered, lighting a cigarette with trembling fingers.
Rasen held the photos with icy hands. A bloodstained image of Aisha slipped onto his lap. He swallowed hard. It was like staring at a nightmare made flesh. "This can't be real… not her…" Then, he asked aloud, eyes fixed on the images:
"Why are you showing me this?"
"Because you need to know who that woman really is. And more importantly, who the true enemy is," Evans replied, extinguishing the cigarette against the sandy floor as he parked near the beach.
The crashing waves against the rocks only deepened the gravity of the moment. Evans removed his jacket, revealing a bleeding wound on his right side.
"I need you to get the bullet out. It's lodged right here," he said, pointing with a trembling finger.
Rasen, visibly shaken by what he had just seen, looked up at Evans.
"What the hell happened in there?" he asked, turning on a flashlight to inspect the wound.
"There was crossfire… Eliana… she..." Evans closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing hard. "Doesn't matter now. Just do it."
"This is going to hurt," Rasen warned, sterilizing the knife's tip with a lighter. He handed Evans a thick piece of cloth.
"Bite this," he said, and began the procedure.
Evans bit down hard as the blade dug into his flesh. His nails clawed at the sand, and a raw, animalistic groan escaped his throat. Rasen said nothing, but his gaze trembled. "We're breaking—one on the inside, the other on the outside," he thought.
As the sound of the waves filled the silence, Rasen realized there was no turning back. The truth was out—and it hurt more than any bullet.
"Amid the salt of the sea and the blood staining the sand, they both understood that the truth wouldn't set them free… it would make them fugitives."