Chapter 2: Ghosts of the Past
Vienna, Austria – 00:17 Hours
Jasper Hawke moved quickly, cutting through the narrow alleyways of Vienna’s historic district. The explosion at the hotel had drawn emergency services, and it wouldn’t be long before local law enforcement locked down the area. Being caught now wasn’t an option.
But his mind wasn’t on the explosion.
It was on her.
Sophia Moreau. Dead for two years. Or so he had thought.
Her face had been unmistakable, framed by the dim glow of streetlights as the sedan disappeared into the night. It wasn’t just a resemblance. It was her.
Hawke forced himself to push the shock aside. Focus. There were only two explanations: either someone wanted him to believe she was alive, or she had never been dead in the first place. Both scenarios were equally dangerous.
A second later, his burner phone vibrated. A single message flashed across the screen.
Stadtpark. Twenty minutes. Come alone.
Unknown number. No signature.
But Hawke didn’t need one. He already knew who was waiting.
Stadtpark – 00:37 Hours
The Vienna city park was almost deserted, the only sounds a distant tram and the rustling of winter-bare trees. The golden statue of Strauss stood in the center, casting a long shadow under the dim park lights.
Hawke approached cautiously, his senses tuned for an ambush. The message had been clear—come alone. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t be walking into a trap.
A figure stood near the fountain, her back to him. Even in the low light, he recognized the poised stance, the way she held herself. Sophia.
For a brief moment, Hawke hesitated.
Then she turned.
His pulse quickened. The woman standing before him was very much alive.
Her dark eyes studied him carefully, searching for something—what, he wasn’t sure. But she was the first to speak.
“You got slower, Hawke.”
Hawke exhaled, a humorless chuckle escaping. Same voice. Same tone.
“You’re supposed to be dead,” he said.
She smiled. “So are you.”
Vienna, Austria – 00:41 Hours
They stood in the shadows of the park, facing each other like two adversaries who had already played this game before.
Hawke didn’t move. “I watched them pull your body out of that river.”
Sophia tilted her head. “Did you?”
Hawke clenched his jaw. He had never seen the body up close—it had been pulled from the Seine in Paris after an ambush. The identification had come through official channels. But now, staring at the woman in front of him, he realized just how easy it would have been to fabricate.
“Why?” he asked.
Her expression darkened. “Because I had to.”
It wasn’t an answer, but it was all he was getting for now.
“You sent the message,” he said.
Sophia nodded. “I had to make sure you were still…you.”
Hawke folded his arms. “And? Satisfied?”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Not yet.”
She reached into her coat and pulled out a small USB drive. “You’re being set up, Hawke. And not just by the Russians.”
He didn’t take it immediately. “Then who?”
Sophia hesitated. “Someone inside your own agency.”
That much Hawke already knew. But why was she here?
“I need proof,” he said.
Sophia smirked. “Then you’re going to have to trust me.”
Hawke exhaled slowly. Trust. That was a currency in short supply these days.
She tossed the USB to him, and he caught it easily.
“Decrypt it,” she said. “And don’t get yourself killed before you do.”
Then, without another word, she turned and walked into the darkness.
Hawke stared after her, gripping the USB tightly.
He had just stepped onto the edge of something far more dangerous than he’d realized.
And the only person who could help him was a ghost.
