Chapter 02: The Betrayal
London, 1:15 AM
The darkness outside the building mirrored the blackness in Jasper Hawke’s mind as he crouched behind a stack of metal filing cabinets, his breath slow and steady. He had been compromised—someone inside the agency had tipped off the enemy. He’d only been a few steps behind Wexler when everything shifted. His mission was no longer just a matter of retrieving the documents. It was a race against enemies both seen and unseen. And the worst part? He had no idea who the real enemy was.
He needed answers. And he needed them fast.
The voices were growing louder now. Hawke’s instincts kicked in, sharpening his focus as he eased around the corner, staying hidden in the shadows. There were two men, both wearing nondescript suits, moving cautiously through the building. They weren’t agents, not from the looks of them. Not even close.
His hand went instinctively to his pistol, the cold steel a comforting reminder of the tools at his disposal. His breathing slowed further as he observed them—careful, calculating. They knew what they were doing. They’d been trained. They were good.
Too good.
He had to make a decision. He couldn’t let them see him, and he couldn’t risk being caught. He needed to move quickly, get to Wexler before they did, and extract whatever information he could. The odds of a clean escape were dwindling with every passing second.
Suddenly, the building’s power flickered. The overhead lights buzzed for a moment before plunging everything into darkness. Hawke tensed, a shadow among shadows. This was his chance. The room was now his canvas—silent, unseen, ready for his next move.
He moved without hesitation, darting down the hall with practiced ease, his footsteps silent. He approached the room where Wexler’s trail had led him, a small office at the far end of the corridor. A metal door with a simple keypad guarded the entrance.
Hawke paused, scanning for any surveillance systems or hidden cameras. Everything was clear. His fingers brushed against the keypad, entering the code he had received earlier. It clicked open with a soft hiss.
Inside, the room was sparse. A desk, a few filing cabinets, and a window offering a panoramic view of the darkened London skyline. Wexler was nowhere to be seen.
Hawke’s eyes immediately fell to the desk, where a briefcase sat in the center. It was unlocked, the contents spilling out in plain sight. A set of papers, hastily stuffed into a manila folder, and… something else.
A black envelope.
His heart skipped a beat as he picked it up. There were no markings on it, nothing to indicate its contents. But the texture of the paper felt foreign—strange. Not something you’d find in any normal office. He flipped it open, feeling a chill crawl up his spine as he saw the documents inside.
Classified intelligence. Worse than he had been led to believe. These weren’t just national security secrets—they were global.
The contents were enough to bring governments to their knees, to expose covert operations that spanned continents, involving several of the world’s most powerful players. The names were redacted, but the countries listed on the files? They were enough to make the air feel suffocating.
Someone had been playing a much bigger game than Hawke had realized. And now he was caught in the middle of it.
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway. Hawke’s pulse quickened. It wasn’t just one person—it was a group.
He quickly stuffed the envelope into his jacket, his mind racing. He couldn’t afford to stay here. If he was caught with this intel, it was game over.
He needed to get out—and fast.
The door creaked open just as he was about to retreat into the hallway, and two men entered the office. Their eyes locked on the desk before falling to the briefcase—and the black envelope.
Hawke’s breath caught in his throat. They knew.
Before he could react, one of the men spoke.
“Damn it, he’s already been here.”
The other man reached for a communicator, but Hawke was already moving, his body springing into action. The two men didn’t stand a chance.
With swift precision, Hawke disarmed the first man, sending him crashing into the wall, and incapacitated the second with a well-placed elbow to the neck. They dropped to the ground, unconscious. Hawke wasted no time in ensuring they wouldn’t be able to follow him.
He darted into the hallway, moving like a phantom through the darkened building, his senses sharp as he adjusted his plan. The exit was on the other side of the building. He could take the fire escape, avoid the main doors, and lose himself in the maze of London’s alleyways.
But as he rounded a corner, he froze.
A familiar face was waiting for him.
It was Cross.
Director Cross.
Hawke’s heart sank. He hadn’t expected this. Not now. Not here.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Hawke snapped, keeping his distance, his hand still on his weapon.
Cross’s eyes were cold, calculating. “I could ask you the same thing, Hawke. You’ve been compromised. The agency wants the intel back. Now.”
Hawke’s mind raced. The last thing he’d expected was for Cross to show up—let alone be part of the trap. It made sense, though. Someone at the top had orchestrated this. Someone who wanted him out of the picture.
“You don’t get it,” Hawke said, his voice low. “Wexler’s documents? They’re bigger than you think. Someone inside our own government is behind this.”
Cross’s gaze flickered, a hint of something—suspicion?—behind his eyes. “And you think you can fix this? You’re a pawn in a much larger game, Hawke. And I’m afraid you’ve already lost.”
Hawke narrowed his eyes. A pawn?
“You’ve been playing with fire, Director,” Hawke said, his tone hardening. “And now the flames are coming for all of us.”
Cross’s lips curled into a thin smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“The flames are already here, Hawke. You just don’t know it yet.”
Without another word, Cross turned and disappeared into the shadows.
Hawke stood frozen for a moment, the weight of his situation sinking in. His own government, the agency he had served faithfully, had betrayed him. He was no longer just running from Wexler. He was running from his own people.
This was bigger than anyone had told him.
And if he didn’t move fast, it would consume him.
