Seoul, South Korea — 2:13 a.m.
The neon hum of downtown Seoul buzzed through the alley like static. Rain slicked the pavement. A street vendor's awning flapped in the wind, unattended. Somewhere overhead, a surveillance drone flickered past, its camera eye blinking like a restless god.
Mary Chen pressed herself into the shadows, hood drawn low. Her breath fogged in the humid night air, heart hammering as the map on her cracked phone flickered—signal dropping in and out. She was close.
The file had been encrypted and buried in a private darknet forum only she used. She hadn't logged in since Prague, and yet an anonymous user had posted a message six minutes ago:
> "He's alive. You're not safe. Dock 17. One hour."
It was signed only: GHOST.
Mary didn't believe in ghosts. But she believed in James Rourke.
She took the long way around, scanning rooftops, alleys, reflections. Every instinct screamed trap, but she had no choice. When she blew the whistle on Project Helix, she knew it would come at a price. What she hadn't expected was the kill order, the firebombing of her apartment, or the fabricated suicide report bearing her own name.
She was a fugitive now. And if Ghost was right—James was too.
Mary ducked into an underground stairwell and keyed open a steel door with an old access code. The interior reeked of rust and oil. A former Cold War comms room, now forgotten by the city above. She slipped in, bolting the door behind her.
And froze.
Someone was already there—sitting in the dark. Arms crossed. Still as death.
"You're late," he said, voice low and rough like gravel.
Her breath caught. "James."
James Rourke stood, taller than she remembered, face rough with a few days' stubble, wearing a battered tactical coat. The gun holstered at his side wasn't regulation issue.
"Been watching you since Tokyo," he added. "You didn't exactly cover your tracks."
Mary frowned. "That message wasn't from you?"
"No. But someone's trying to play us."
A low click echoed in the dark. James had drawn his sidearm and was aiming past her—at the door.
Three seconds later, it exploded inward.
Flashbang. Fire. Shouting in Korean.
Aegis Tactical Unit.
They had found her.
James grabbed Mary's wrist and pulled her through a side tunnel just as bullets sparked off the walls. She ran without thinking, feet pounding, lungs burning. Somewhere in the dark, behind a locked firewall and a kill order, was the truth.
Tonight, they would run.
Tomorrow, they would fight back.