CHAPTER 24 - A VISIT TO ARCHIVES

The archives smelled of dust, mildew, and forgotten paper-like the past itself had been sealed into the air. Ella tugged the heavy door open, the hinges groaning as if protesting the intrusion. Larry followed closely, eyes scanning the rows of metal shelves, filing cabinets, and boxes stacked haphazardly.

"This place... it's a graveyard," Ella whispered. "A graveyard for the city's secrets."

Larry didn't respond immediately. His mind was elsewhere, scanning, calculating. Every shadow, every gap in the shelves felt like it held a clue-or a trap. He moved with the same precision as he had in the safehouse firefight, instinct guiding him through the dusty labyrinth.

Ella noticed his behavior. "Larry... you're tense. What is it?"

He exhaled slowly. "Archives aren't just for records. They're for hiding things that someone doesn't want found. And Wraith always looked for patterns in hidden things. It's instinct."

Ella frowned. "Patterns?"

Larry's gaze lingered on a row of locked cabinets. "Names, photographs, case numbers... they all tell a story if you know how to read it. And right now, we're looking for the story about Wraith-or me."

They began combing through old police records, case files stacked in decades-old boxes. Most were yellowed and brittle, their ink fading. But Larry's eyes caught one in particular: a photograph buried beneath unrelated files.

He paused, frozen. "Stop."

Ella leaned over his shoulder. "What is it?"

Larry's fingers trembled as he pulled the photograph out. It was grainy, black-and-white, but unmistakable. A man, early thirties, sharp eyes, a commanding presence. He looked... like Larry-but not Larry. The tag beneath read a name that was completely foreign.

"Different identity," Larry murmured. "Different name... but the resemblance is undeniable."

Ella's voice shook slightly. "Could it... be you?"

Larry shook his head slowly. "It can't be. And yet... it has to be. This is what I was before... before they erased me. Or maybe it's a parallel identity created for me. Wraith had to exist under a name that didn't exist."

The photograph seemed to pulse in the dim light, a tangible reminder that the past Larry thought he had lost was more complicated than memory could contain.

Larry sifted through the surrounding files. Case after case mentioned a "covert operative" involved in city-sanctioned disappearances and untraceable assassinations. Each report used pseudonyms, initials, or code words-patterns that only someone with Wraith's training could decipher.

Ella pointed to a series of notes scribbled on the edges of one file. "Look at these markings. They're annotations... almost like someone was leaving themselves breadcrumbs."

Larry's eyes narrowed. "Breadcrumbs... yes. That's exactly what they are. Someone wanted to remember... or someone wanted to make sure I could eventually remember."

He flipped through a tattered notebook, discovering a series of mission logs and encrypted references. Names, dates, and locations aligned perfectly with flashbacks he had been experiencing-missions he had thought were erased forever.

"It's all here," Larry murmured. "The files, the photographs... it's a map of my erased life. And not just my life-the network, the orchestrator, and the people he's manipulated."

Ella placed a hand on his arm. "Then we have what we need, right?"

Larry looked at her, uncertainty in his eyes. "Not yet. This is only the beginning. These archives will tell us about Wraith, but they won't tell us why they left me alive... or why you remained in my memory."

As they moved deeper into the archives, Larry noticed something odd: a faint shadow among the shelves. He paused, squinting, every instinct screaming that they weren't alone.

"Ella," he whispered. "We have company."

She froze. "What do you mean? Someone's here?"

Larry nodded slowly, scanning the rows of metal shelves. "Yes... and I don't think they're friendly."

A noise-a soft, deliberate shuffle-echoed through the rows. Larry's hand instinctively went to his concealed weapon, but he didn't draw it. The shadow moved closer, and then stepped out into the dim light: a woman. Mid-thirties, professional attire, badge tucked into her belt, but eyes sharp and calculating.

"Detective Marlowe," she said, her tone even, "I didn't expect you to make it this far."

Larry stiffened. "Who are you?"

The woman smiled faintly, almost pityingly. "Let's just say... someone with a vested interest in keeping certain records hidden. You've been digging into things that the city doesn't want you to see."

Ella's grip on her weapon tightened. "And you?"

The woman's gaze flickered to Larry. "And you... Wraith. Or should I say... Larry?"

Larry's heart skipped. "You know who I am?"

She nodded. "I've known for years. We've been watching you... because someone needs to make sure Wraith doesn't forget-and someone needs to make sure he doesn't remember too much."

Larry's mind raced. "Who sent you?"

The woman's smile vanished. "No one. I answer to no one. But I know the orchestrator's game, and you're playing with fire by digging through these archives."

Ella's voice was firm. "We're uncovering the truth. That's our mission. And you're not going to stop us."

The woman tilted her head. "You think you're uncovering the truth, but you're only uncovering pieces. And some pieces... could kill you."

Larry stepped forward, his presence commanding. "We've survived firebombs, assassins, and erased memories. We survive this too. But tell me-why is there a photograph of me with a different identity? Who created that? And why?"

The woman's eyes glinted. "Because Wraith never truly existed. Not as you think. He was always a construct... a tool... and sometimes, a warning. That photograph? It's a record of who you were before the memory wipe. And someone... doesn't want you to remember him-or her."

Ella's eyes narrowed. "Or her?"

The woman nodded. "Yes. Someone close to you. Someone who shaped the man you are now."

Larry's stomach twisted. "Someone close... like Ella?"

The woman shook her head. "Not her. Someone else. Someone who might still be alive. And they're waiting. Watching. Judging... deciding whether Wraith deserves to live."

Before Larry or Ella could react, the sound of a metallic click echoed through the archive. Larry froze.

"Trapped?" Ella whispered.

Larry scanned the room. Hidden cameras blinked faintly in the dim light. The exits were normal-but now appeared too perfect. Too predictable.

Larry's eyes met Ella's. "They know we're here. And this isn't just about files... it's about me. Wraith. And the person behind that photograph."

The woman smirked. "Exactly. And you've just stepped into the part of the archive that should have remained buried."

Suddenly, a second figure emerged from behind a row of shelves-a man wearing a black tactical coat, face obscured, movements deliberate. He raised his hand, holding a small device.

Larry instinctively moved in front of Ella. "What's he doing?"

The woman's voice dropped to a whisper. "He's going to make sure Wraith remembers... whether he wants to or not."

Larry's eyes narrowed. He recognized the signature posture, the calm precision, the cold calculation. This wasn't just an operative-it was someone from his erased past, someone who had been part of Wraith's life in ways he had yet to recall fully.

Ella gripped his arm. "Larry... whatever happens, we survive. Together."

Larry's jaw tightened. "No. We don't just survive. We find the truth. And we confront it."

The man pressed a button on the device. A low hum filled the room. The shelves around them began to shift... closing in slowly, like a mechanical cage.

Larry's eyes met Ella's. "It's a trap."

The walls began moving. Metal grinding against metal. Dust and paper flying.

Larry whispered, almost to himself: "And this time... the trap is personal."

The shelves were closing fast. The photograph, the USB drive, and the hidden records-everything-could be lost in moments.

Ella's eyes widened. "Larry... what do we do?"

Larry's eyes darkened. "We survive. And we remember."

The metal walls slammed closer...

The metallic grinding grew deafening as the shelves shifted inward, forming a near-perfect rectangle around Larry and Ella. Dust choked the air, coating every surface in a thin layer of grit. The photograph, the USB drive, and the case files lay scattered on the floor, vulnerable to the encroaching metal walls.

Larry's eyes scanned the space, calculating. Every inch of movement mattered. Pressure points, escape routes, angles of attack-all of it flashed in his mind like a high-stakes blueprint.

"Ella," he hissed, "grab the files and keep them safe. I'll handle the mechanism."

She didn't hesitate, scooping up the photograph and the USB drive. "Just hurry," she said, voice tight with urgency.

Larry sprinted toward the nearest corner, his hand sliding over a lever he barely noticed the first time. Dust and rust flew as he yanked it, but the shelves moved only slightly. The trap was sophisticated, designed to give the illusion of escape while limiting real options.

From the shadows, the tactical figure stepped closer, device still in hand. Larry's instincts screamed: every second counts.

"You've done well to survive this long, Wraith," the figure said, voice cold and measured. "But every past has a way of catching up."

Larry's blood ran cold. The voice-hauntingly familiar-was like a ghost from the life he had thought erased. Every mission, every covert operation, every erased memory surged back: brief flashes of the figure's face, the precision of his movements, the brutal efficiency.

"You..." Larry breathed. "You were part of my past. You trained me... or I trained you."

The figure smirked beneath his mask. "Memory is selective, Wraith. But the orchestrator ensured that you would remember... only when it was time."

Ella's voice trembled. "Larry... who is he?"

Larry didn't answer immediately. His eyes flickered over the man, scanning posture, weapon, and subtle cues. "He... knows everything I've forgotten. And he's here to remind me."

Larry felt it-the surge of Wraith returning in full. Every instinct, every tactical skill, every memory wiped or buried-it all converged in one terrifying, exhilarating moment. He moved faster, thought faster, planned faster than the enemy anticipated.

He grabbed the device from the figure's hands, twisting and disabling it in a single motion. Sparks flew. The metallic walls shuddered but didn't collapse. Larry's mind raced: the orchestrator anticipates patterns, but he can't predict improvisation at Wraith speed.

Ella's eyes were wide with disbelief. "Larry... that was incredible!"

Larry gave her a quick nod. "We're not done yet. That photograph... it's a key. And I think I know why it exists."

He pulled it from her hands and studied it. The man in the photo-himself, yet not himself-stared back. Larry recognized subtle scars, the same hardened gaze, and the posture of someone trained to survive any threat.

"They wanted me to remember... eventually," he whispered. "This isn't just a record. It's a breadcrumb trail of Wraith's erased identity... and a warning."

Ella frowned. "A warning of what?"

Larry's eyes darkened. "Of who I used to be. And of the orchestrator's endgame. Whoever arranged this wants me to confront that past... and either rise or die."

As they secured the files, Larry noticed additional markings on the photograph-tiny annotations in the corner, almost invisible to the casual observer. Names, dates, mission codes... all linked to missing agents, assassinations, and corrupted city officials.

He turned to Ella. "This... is the orchestrator's playbook. Not just a memory exercise, but a way to manipulate Wraith-through me, through my actions, through my bond with you."

Ella's hands trembled as she clutched the USB drive. "Then we have the power to expose him, don't we?"

Larry shook his head slowly. "Not yet. This information... it's dangerous. If it falls into the wrong hands, the orchestrator's network could adapt before we strike. We need precision, timing, and absolute secrecy."

Ella's lips pressed together, determined. "Then we do it the Wraith way. Smart, fast, and without mercy."

Larry allowed a brief, rare smile. "Exactly."

Suddenly, the air shifted. The shadow of someone taller moved against the dim light of the archive. Larry's head snapped toward it.

The orchestrator had arrived. Calm, composed, and impossibly composed, his figure loomed in the doorway. "Impressive work, Wraith," he said. "You've survived more than I anticipated. But survival isn't enough. Not tonight."

Larry moved in front of Ella instinctively. "We're not here to play games. What do you want?"

The orchestrator's lips curved in a slow, deliberate smile. "You've rediscovered your past. You've remembered the breadcrumb trail. But now... it's time to see what you're really capable of. And whether your bond with her-your weakness-is truly a strength."

Ella's eyes narrowed. "He's insane. And he underestimates us."

Larry's jaw tightened. "Not anymore. I know him. I know Wraith. And I know what I'll do."

The orchestrator stepped closer, glancing at the photograph and files. "You see, Wraith, every step you take has been orchestrated. Every memory restored... every bond... calculated. And yet, you still think you have control."

Larry's mind raced. He studied the shelves, the exits, the mechanisms, and the subtle angles of surveillance. He realized the orchestrator wasn't just physically present-he was manipulating the archive itself. Pressure plates, motion sensors, even the heavy metal shelving-they were all part of a trap designed to force Wraith into a fatal mistake.

Ella's voice cut through the tension. "Larry... what now?"

Larry's eyes narrowed. "We rewrite the rules. The orchestrator expects fear. He expects hesitation. But Wraith... never hesitates."

Larry and Ella moved in sync, preparing to confront the orchestrator, but the air suddenly shifted. A hidden door swung open behind them, revealing a long-forgotten chamber filled with files, photographs, and a single object in the center: a reinforced case, sealed with advanced locks and coded mechanisms.

Larry's eyes widened. "That case... it's the orchestrator's prize. Everything he's built... hidden inside there. And it's been waiting for me."

Ella stepped closer. "Larry... are you ready?"

He took a deep breath. "I'm ready. But this isn't just about survival anymore. This is about the truth... about Wraith... about who I was-and who I must become."

The orchestrator's voice echoed behind them. "Step into the chamber, Wraith... and see if the past can save you... or destroy you."

Larry turned, glancing at Ella. "Whatever happens, we face it together."

The metal doors of the chamber began to close slowly, enclosing them in near-total darkness. Dust and stale air filled their lungs. The orchestrator's presence pressed in from all sides, a silent reminder of the stakes.

Larry's mind raced. Inside that case is the key-not just to the orchestrator, but to my erased life, my memories... and perhaps the ultimate truth about why she-Ella-remains the one constant in my mind.

Ella's hand squeezed his. "We're ready. Let's end this."

Larry nodded, the shadows in his eyes merging with the shadows around them.

The doors clanged shut completely. Darkness swallowed them.

Larry and Ella survive the traps of the archive, but a hidden chamber holds the orchestrator's ultimate prize. The photograph, the files, and the sealed case hint at the full truth of Wraith's erased identity and the orchestrator's plan. Their next actions will determine whether they can confront the orchestrator and uncover the secret behind Ella's presence in Larry's memory.

CHAPTER 25 - A MESSAGE FROM THE PAST

The air was thick with tension, the city lights casting long shadows across Larry's apartment. He hadn't slept properly in days-memories of the orchestrator, the archives, and the moving metal walls replayed in his mind like a relentless film. Ella sat on the couch, reviewing the corrupted files from the archives, unaware of the sudden vibration of Larry's phone on the table.

He picked it up reluctantly. Caller ID unknown.

A crackling voice, layered with static, came through:

"You didn't finish the job. Now she's paying the price."

Larry froze. His heart skipped. The voice was chillingly familiar-someone from a past he couldn't fully remember.

Ella looked up, concern etching her face. "Larry... who was it?"

He didn't answer immediately. His mind was racing, replaying every mission, every erased memory, every moment where Wraith's presence had meant life or death. The words echoed: "Now she's paying the price."

Larry swallowed hard. "We have to find out who this is. And fast."

Larry sat in silence, phone still clutched in his hand. The voice triggered a flood of fragmented memories: a dark alley, a gun pressed to his chest, a mission gone wrong, someone screaming a warning he couldn't hear clearly. The name of the woman-someone he had failed to protect-hovered just beyond reach.

Ella approached cautiously. "Larry... what is it?"

He turned to her, eyes haunted. "A message. From someone... from my past. Someone I should have stopped, someone I failed to protect. And now... she's in danger because of me."

Ella's hand tightened around his arm. "Then we save her. Together."

Larry nodded slowly, but inside, a storm was brewing. Wraith's instincts kicked in. Every second counted. Every wrong move could mean another life lost.

Larry immediately started tracing the call, pulling up encrypted logs, location pings, and hidden phone routes. Whoever sent the voicemail had covered their tracks meticulously-almost as if they expected Wraith to come after them.

Ella peered over his shoulder. "Whoever this is... they're not just any operative. They know you. They know Wraith."

Larry's eyes narrowed. "Exactly. And that makes them dangerous. They're predicting our moves, anticipating our strategy."

He typed furiously, cross-referencing the caller's digital footprints with the orchestrator's network, the archives, and the erased missions. Slowly, a pattern began to emerge-locations, dates, and cryptic references aligning with old operative files.

"They're leaving breadcrumbs," Larry muttered. "For me to follow. Or for me to walk into a trap."

Ella's brow furrowed. "So it's a test. A game."

Larry nodded. "Worse. It's a game with real consequences."

Hours of tracing led them to a seemingly abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. Surveillance photos showed no activity, no heat signatures, nothing... except for subtle signs of recent movement.

Larry's jaw tightened. "This place... it's familiar. From my memory, it feels like somewhere I've been before. A mission... a failure."

Ella's eyes narrowed. "Then we have to be careful. Whoever's inside... they know you, they know Wraith. And they know you'd come here."

Larry's mind raced. The warehouse wasn't just a location-it was a trigger. Something deep in his erased memory was tied to it. Something he needed to confront.

He checked his weapon, adjusted his jacket, and whispered, almost to himself: "Wraith remembers. And I intend to finish what was started... properly this time."

Rain slicked streets reflected the neon glow as Larry and Ella approached the warehouse. The place was imposing-steel beams, rusted walls, and a sense of foreboding hanging in the air.

"Larry... it feels wrong," Ella said softly. "Too quiet."

Larry didn't respond. His eyes scanned the perimeter, noting every potential entry, escape route, and vantage point. Wraith's instincts were fully awake now, each movement calculated, precise.

They reached the main door, a heavy sliding metal piece. Larry tugged it slightly-it was locked, but there were signs of recent tampering.

"Someone wants us in," he muttered. "Or they want us to think we're wanted here."

Ella's hand tightened on his arm. "And if it's a trap?"

Larry's eyes met hers, calm but intense. "Then we survive. That's all we do. Together."

Inside, the warehouse was dimly lit. Shadows stretched across crates and metal shelving. A faint hum of electricity buzzed somewhere deep in the building.

Larry led the way, senses heightened. Each step echoed softly, every shadow could hide a threat. Ella followed closely, her eyes scanning every corner, ready for action.

"Something about this place... it's not just a warehouse," Larry whispered. "It's a memory... and a warning."

Suddenly, a faint movement flickered in the darkness-a shadow darted behind a stack of crates. Larry's body tensed, Wraith fully in command.

"Show yourself," he commanded. "Now."

No answer. Just silence.

Larry moved toward the crates, carefully scanning each. His hand brushed a dusty folder-old police files, photographs, and a single envelope addressed in an unfamiliar handwriting: "For Wraith."

He opened it. Inside was a single photograph of a young woman-barely in her twenties, frightened, eyes wide with terror. Written on the back: "You didn't finish the job. Now she's paying the price."

Ella's hand flew to her mouth. "Larry... that's her. The woman from the voicemail."

Larry's jaw tightened. Memories surged: a failed extraction, a collapse, screams he couldn't hear fully... a mission left unfinished.

"We have to find her," he said, voice low, determined. "Before it's too late."

A faint click echoed from above. Larry looked up just in time to see a group of figures dropping silently from the catwalks. Tactical gear, weapons ready, precision movements-trained killers.

"Ambush!" he shouted, grabbing Ella and diving behind crates. Bullets kicked up dust and debris around them.

Ella fired instinctively, taking down one attacker, while Larry rolled, taking cover behind a metal pillar. He counted five more-too coordinated, too precise.

"They know we're coming," he muttered. "And they've been waiting... for Wraith."

Ella's eyes widened. "Larry... what now?"

He gritted his teeth. "We fight. And we finish what we started... years ago."

Larry and Ella fought their way through the ambush, but the warehouse suddenly plunged into darkness. The lights went out, replaced by a single, flickering red glow from a nearby panel.

A recording played over the speakers, distorted and eerie:

"You thought the past was gone... Wraith. But the past always finds a way. Now, the price must be paid. And she-your weakness-will be the leverage."

Larry's heart sank. Ella's grip on his arm was firm, but he could feel the tremor in her hand.

From the shadows, a faint silhouette emerged-a figure Larry instinctively recognized from his erased memories. Calm, deliberate, and terrifyingly precise.

Larry's jaw clenched. "It's her. Or him... someone I failed before."

The figure stepped into the red light, face still obscured. Larry whispered, almost to himself: "The past... has come to collect."

Bullets, shadows, and unanswered questions filled the warehouse.

The red glow cast long, ominous shadows across the warehouse floor. Larry's instincts screamed at him-Wraith's instincts, precise and lethal. Every muscle in his body was coiled like a spring. The figure in the shadows remained silent, watching, waiting.

Ella's hand gripped his arm. "Larry... who is it?"

Larry's eyes narrowed, scanning posture, movement, and subtle tells. "Someone I failed before... someone I couldn't save."

The figure stepped forward, finally into the flickering light. Larry's stomach twisted. It was a woman-mid-twenties, determined, eyes sharp but haunted. Recognition hit him like a punch to the chest.

"It's... her," Larry whispered. "The one from the voicemail... the one I left behind."

Ella's eyes widened. "Larry... what do we do?"

He inhaled deeply. "We finish this. Together."

The woman's voice was steady, but laced with pain. "You didn't finish the extraction, Wraith. You left me behind. And now... I've been paying the price every day since."

Larry's jaw tightened. Memories surged-gunfire, shadows, collapsing walls, screams he couldn't comprehend... a mission gone wrong, a life lost because he hesitated.

"I... I thought... I couldn't save everyone," he whispered, voice heavy. "I never meant for this to happen."

The woman's eyes narrowed. "Intentions don't matter. The outcome does. And you've just stepped back into the path that was set for you years ago. Now, you have one chance to make it right."

Ella's voice was quiet but firm. "Then we do it. Whatever it takes."

Larry's mind raced. Wraith's precision, strategy, and memory aligned with the present moment. He knew every move mattered, every second counted.

Suddenly, the warehouse shifted. A low rumble echoed through the walls. The lights flickered violently, then went out completely. Red emergency lights bathed the space again, revealing multiple shadows emerging from the surrounding catwalks and crates-armed and highly trained.

Larry's eyes narrowed. "The orchestrator's network... they've known we'd come here."

Ella fired instinctively, taking down one of the attackers, while Larry moved like Wraith, neutralizing two more with precision strikes. The remaining attackers flanked them, forcing them into the center of the warehouse.

Larry's mind raced. Every route, every angle, every shadow-he anticipated it all. He whispered to Ella: "Stick to me. We create openings... then we exploit them."

Larry approached the woman. "I need to know everything. Why now? Why send the message?"

She stepped back, still wary. "Because the orchestrator never forgives, never forgets, and he always plans for every contingency. He set up the warehouse, the files, the traps... to draw you in, Wraith. He knew the one you failed would be the leverage he needed."

Larry clenched his fists. "And me...?"

"You," she said, voice cold but precise, "are the key to undoing it. But only if you confront what you left behind. Only if you embrace Wraith fully... and act."

Ella's eyes met his. "Then act. Now."

Larry's jaw tightened. The past and present collided. Wraith's instincts surged, guiding him, telling him where to move, how to fight, how to survive.

From above, a shadowy figure dropped onto the catwalk-a new presence, imposing and calculating. Larry recognized the signature movement instantly.

The orchestrator had arrived personally. Calm, cold, precise. He looked down at them, arms crossed.

"Wraith," he said smoothly, voice cutting through the tension, "you thought the past was gone. But it never leaves. And now... it's time to pay the price for everything you failed to complete."

Larry's eyes narrowed. "We're not paying anything. We're finishing what you started, your way."

The orchestrator's lips curved in a faint smile. "Bold. But naïve. Let's see if Wraith can survive a full house of consequences."

The orchestrator signaled subtly. A sudden barrage of gunfire erupted from hidden positions around the warehouse. Larry instinctively dove, rolling behind a crate. Bullets tore through metal and wood. Ella ducked beside him, firing accurately at advancing attackers.

Larry's mind calculated trajectories, cover points, and the timing of every shot. Wraith was fully awake now-memory, instincts, and strategy working as one.

He grabbed a loose metal pipe, swinging with calculated force, knocking one attacker off balance. Ella followed his movements, synchronized perfectly. Together, they cleared a path to the center of the warehouse-the sealed case he had glimpsed earlier in the archives.

The reinforced case sat in the center of the warehouse, glowing under the flickering red light. Larry approached, recognizing symbols and markings from his erased missions. The orchestrator's handwriting was on the lock: "Only Wraith may open."

Ella's voice trembled. "Larry... be careful. Whatever's in there..."

Larry nodded, fingers working the lock with precision. Each click resonated like a heartbeat. Finally, the case opened. Inside was a collection of files, photographs, and a single envelope marked "For Wraith: The Truth."

He opened it carefully. Inside were documents detailing the orchestrator's network, missing agents, assassinations, and-most shockingly-records of Wraith's erased life, including his connection to the woman now standing before him.

Larry's eyes widened. "This... this is everything. The past... my mistakes... my erased identity... all of it."

The orchestrator's voice echoed from above. "Yes, Wraith. And now you see... the game is far from over."

Suddenly, the ground shook. Alarms blared. A hidden compartment in the case clicked open. Inside, a digital device activated, projecting a live feed. On the screen was the woman's image-bound, gagged, and struggling in another location.

Larry froze. "No... she's been captured."

Ella's face turned pale. "Larry... what do we do?"

Larry clenched his jaw, eyes dark with resolve. "We don't negotiate. We strike. Wraith saves what he failed to protect before."

The orchestrator's laughter echoed throughout the warehouse: "Tick-tock, Wraith. The clock is running. Save her... or lose everything."

Larry looked at Ella. "We move. Now. And nothing will stop us-not him, not the network... not anyone."

The red lights flickered. Shadows shifted. Outside, a storm began, rain lashing against the walls. Inside, Wraith prepared to face the orchestrator's ultimate trap-and the clock was ticking.

CHAPTER 26 - THE MOLE IN THE FORCE

The early morning haze hung low over the precinct parking lot, soft and grey, like fog trying to muffle the world. The weight of the previous night pressed on Ella's chest. Larry hadn't slept. She hadn't either. Not after what they'd seen-the video feed of the woman bound somewhere unknown, the orchestrator's mocking voice echoing through the warehouse, the truth laid bare in that metal case Larry opened with trembling hands.

Now, the stakes had shifted.

The game was faster.

More sinister.

More intimate.

Larry sat beside her in the car, staring forward, shoulders rigid. He wasn't fully Larry this morning. She could feel it. Wraith's instincts were too awake, too sharp, too unsettled.

And yet... he reached over, brushing his fingers against hers.

A small gesture.

A human one.

One that grounded him-kept him from vanishing into the assassin he used to be.

"Ella," he murmured without looking at her, "once we walk through those doors, everything changes."

She nodded. "Because they'll know we know."

"No," Larry said, finally turning to her. "Because someone inside this building already knows everything."

The words hit her like ice.

"Larry-"

"There's a mole in the force," he said quietly. "And they're feeding the orchestrator every move we make."

Ella turned to the building-her building-her home, the place she'd trusted for years. The idea of betrayal inside those walls felt like a knife twisting beneath her ribs.

"We expose them," she whispered.

Together.

Larry's jaw tightened. "But carefully. Because if we make one wrong step-"

He didn't finish. He didn't need to.

The wrong step would get someone killed.

Maybe the woman.

Maybe Ella.

Maybe him.

The precinct felt different when they walked in. Not physically-same peeling paint, same flickering light down the hallway, same smell of burnt coffee from the break room-but the atmosphere had changed. Or maybe she had changed.

Eyes turned toward them.

Some curious.

Some judgmental.

Some calculating.

Ella felt those eyes weigh her down. Larry felt them too, though he didn't slow his stride. He moved like a man built from purpose. She admired that-or feared it-she wasn't sure which.

Lieutenant Harris approached first. He was always too friendly, too eager, too proud of his charm. Today, his smile felt rehearsed.

"Detective Rivera," he greeted with a grin that didn't reach his eyes. "Glad you're back. We were worried."

Ella forced a polite smile. "Just needed some air."

Harris's gaze flicked to Larry-measuring him, studying him. Larry didn't blink.

"You brought your... witness?" Harris asked, voice dipping between curiosity and suspicion.

Larry answered before Ella could. "I'm here as her protection."

Harris nodded slowly. "Of course. Well, if you need anything... anything at all..." He paused, leaning in too close. "You let me know."

Larry's body tensed, subtle but unmistakable.

Ella touched his arm, grounding him.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," she said.

As Harris walked away, Larry whispered, "His heartbeat changed."

Ella blinked. "What?"

"He's nervous. Trying to hide it. He knows something."

She didn't know whether to be impressed, alarmed, or both.

But Harris wasn't her only problem.

Detective Vaughn sat at his desk, pretending to type, but his gaze kept flicking toward them. Sergeant Cole avoided eye contact completely-unusual for someone who usually couldn't stop bragging about his weekend fishing trips.

Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

Larry leaned close. "They're not just looking at us. They're looking for something."

"And they're afraid we'll find it first," Ella whispered back.

Ella guided Larry to an unused conference room, shut the blinds, and locked the door. Larry swept the space, checking corners, windows, vents, even under the table. He did it without thinking-Wraith-level instinct-and yet it didn't frighten her. It made her feel... safer.

Larry finally nodded. "Clear."

Ella dropped her file folders on the table, hands shaking.

"I've been compiling everything," she said, opening a folder filled with scribbled notes and printouts. "Calls, patrol logs, internal memos, access requests from last month-"

Larry's eyes scanned everything at a speed that made her dizzy.

"Pattern?" he asked.

She hesitated. "I didn't want to believe it. But... there is one."

Larry leaned closer, shoulder brushing hers, voice low. "Show me."

Ella pulled out a printed sheet covered in hand-drawn arrows. "Every time we make a move-every single time-the orchestrator either blocks us, ambushes us, or pushes us into a trap."

"Inside knowledge," Larry said softly.

"Yes. But it's more than timing. Look-every blocked move correlates with just three officers who had access to my case files."

Larry's jaw tightened. "Harris. Vaughn. Cole."

Ella's breath caught. "Yes."

"But there's more," she whispered, pulling out a patrol report. "See this? Vaughn requested access to my secure logs two hours before the warehouse ambush."

Larry's eyes darkened. "He knew where we were going."

"And Cole?" She lifted another file. "He rerouted a team last week-away from the docks-during the exact hour the orchestrator's shipment came in."

Larry's voice was low and tense. "Harris has been pushing you to drop the case."

Ella nodded slowly. "Because he wants the investigation to die."

Larry stood, pacing. "But it can't be all three. The orchestrator wouldn't risk multiple moles. Too messy. Too many variables."

"Then which one?" Ella whispered.

Larry stopped.

Still.

Silent.

In perfect focus.

"The one who's been closest to you."

Her stomach dropped.

"Ella," Larry said gently, "who knows you better than anyone in this precinct?"

She swallowed hard.

There was only one answer.

Ella sank into her chair, hands covering her face. "No. He wouldn't. Not him."

Larry crouched beside her. "Look at me."

She did-and his eyes were steady, anchoring her.

"We can't afford emotional blind spots," he said softly. "Not now."

"I know," she whispered. "But he's been my partner for four years."

Larry's voice remained gentle but firm. "That gives him access. Access to your routines, your instincts, your reactions. Access to you."

A tear finally slid down her cheek. She hated that-showing weakness in front of him-but he didn't judge. He didn't even blink.

"Ella," he said, "who is he?"

"Marcus," she whispered. "Detective Marcus Reed."

Larry's expression didn't change, but the tension in his shoulders did-like a wire pulled tighter.

"Tell me everything," he said.

Ella wiped her cheek, trying to steady her breathing. "Marcus has always been... solid. Dependable. He covered for me when my mom was sick. He took shifts for me. He was there after Sam... after my breakup. He noticed things no one else noticed."

"Too much familiarity," Larry murmured.

"He's not like that," she snapped.

Larry's eyes softened. "I'm not judging you. I'm assessing danger."

Ella exhaled shakily. "Marcus has been... protective of me. Sometimes too protective. He always wants to know where I'm going. Who I'm with. He said it's because he worries."

Larry's voice darkened slightly. "Possessiveness disguised as concern."

"No," she whispered. "He's not like that. He-"

Her phone pinged.

She looked down.

A new message.

Unknown number.

Her stomach turned.

He's already made his move, Detective.

But by the time you realize it... it'll be too late.

Larry snatched the phone, eyes scanning the text.

His voice dropped to a chilling calm.

"The orchestrator knows about Marcus."

Ella shook her head violently. "No. No. This could be misdirection."

Larry glanced toward the door.

"Or a warning."

Ella pulled out the final folder she'd been too afraid to open.

Security flagged it yesterday.

Someone tried to access her confidential case files using Marcus's login.

"Larry," she whispered, "look."

Larry took the document, eyes narrowing. "Failed login attempt. Password reset. Two attempts to override the security layer."

"And look at the timestamp," Ella said.

Larry froze.

"During the warehouse ambush."

Ella nodded.

Her chest felt hollow.

Marcus couldn't have been on scene. He was supposedly running patrols across town.

Supposedly.

Larry stepped closer, voice gentle. "Ella... I know this is painful. But we have to follow where the evidence leads."

She shook her head weakly. "What if it's not him? What if someone used his credentials? What if-"

Larry put a hand on her shoulder.

"Then we find out," he said softly. "Together."

Ella nodded. "We start discreetly. We look at access logs, badge swipes, bodycam history-"

But Larry had gone still.

Completely still.

"Ella," he whispered. "Someone's outside the door."

Her breath faltered.

"Who?" she mouthed.

Larry's hand drifted toward the metal ruler on the table-anything that could be a weapon.

A shadow shifted under the door.

Ella's heartbeat thundered.

Larry leaned in, lips near her ear.

"On my signal, move behind the desk."

Ella swallowed hard.

Nodded.

The doorknob turned slowly.

Larry positioned himself... ready to strike.

The door creaked open halfway.

Ella held her breath.

Larry's body tensed.

Then-

A familiar figure stepped into the room.

Detective Marcus Reed.

Ella's heart stopped.

His eyes flicked from her... to Larry... to the files scattered across the table.

His expression was unreadable-too calm, too controlled.

Marcus shut the door behind him quietly.

Locked it.

Larry moved subtly between Ella and Marcus.

Ella forced her voice to stay steady.

"Marcus... what are you doing?"

Marcus's gaze hardened.

And for the first time in four years, Ella saw something cold behind his eyes.

Something calculating.

Something dangerous.

"Ella," Marcus said softly, "we need to talk."

Larry's hand curled slowly around the ruler.

Ella whispered, "Marcus... what did you do?"

He tilted his head.

"Ella," he said gently, "I would never hurt you."

Then he smiled.

A slow, unsettling smile that didn't touch his eyes.

"But him...?" He nodded toward Larry.

"That's different."

Ella stood, voice cracking. "Marcus-stop."

"No," he said quietly. "You don't understand."

He stepped closer.

"I've been trying to protect you from him."

Larry's jaw clenched.

Ella felt her world tilt, her breath vanish.

Marcus continued, voice low, trembling with emotion-or something darker.

"Ella... don't you see? I've been helping you for years. Guiding you. Watching over you. Keeping you safe. And you brought him into our lives? This man-this ghost-this threat?"

He stepped closer.

And whispered:

"I had to act."

Larry's voice was deadly calm. "Act how?"

Marcus smiled again.

"The orchestrator was right," he murmured. "You were getting too close."

Ella felt her stomach twist violently.

"No... Marcus... tell me you didn't."

He looked at her with heartbreaking softness.

"I did it for you."

Larry stepped forward, eyes dark. "What did you do?"

Marcus looked at him like he was nothing.

"I made sure she wouldn't get hurt."

Ella whispered, voice cracking, "Marcus... what the hell did you do?"

Marcus's expression turned cold.

"The woman," he whispered. "The one they took."

Ella felt the blood drain from her face.

"What about her?" she rasped.

Marcus exhaled.

"She's only alive because I needed leverage."

Ella staggered back.

"No. No. Marcus, please-"

He took a step toward her.

"Ella... I'm the one who delivered her location to the orchestrator."

Larry lunged forward.

Marcus pulled something from his jacket.

A badge.

A keycard.

A flash drive.

He tossed them onto the table.

"Every move you made," he said quietly, "I made sure they knew."

Ella's voice broke.

"Marcus... why?"

He whispered:

"So you'd finally listen to me."

Larry surged forward-

Marcus slammed his hand onto the light switch, plunging the room into darkness.

Ella screamed.

Larry spun.

Something crashed.

A struggle-

A shout-

The door swung open-

Footsteps-

Then-

A single, deafening sound.

A gunshot.

The lights flickered back on.

Larry stood frozen.

Ella gasped.

And Marcus-

Marcus was gone.

Vanished.

Leaving behind only the still-warm imprint of betrayal.

For a long moment, no one spoke.

The conference room lights flickered back to full brightness, humming faintly, almost mockingly, as if the universe itself were indifferent to the emotional earthquake tearing through Ella's chest.

Larry stood perfectly still, the metal ruler still clenched in his hand like a blade. His eyes remained fixed on the spot where Marcus had disappeared through the door. His breathing was slow. Controlled. Too controlled.

Ella swallowed hard, tasting copper on her tongue. She hadn't even realized she'd bitten the inside of her mouth.

"Larry," she whispered.

No response.

"Larry." She stepped closer and touched his arm.

He blinked, as if snapping out of a trance, and turned toward her.

"He didn't shoot," Larry said. "That wasn't his gun."

Ella nodded shakily. "Then whose-"

A voice barked down the hallway.

"Rivera! What the hell was that sound?"

It was Lieutenant Harris.

Ella's entire body tensed.

Larry grabbed her arm-not harshly, but urgently-and pulled her behind him.

"Stay quiet," he mouthed.

Harris's footsteps approached.

Ella's breath hitched. Larry's posture shifted, subtly transforming. Shoulders squared. Weight redistributed. Muscles tightening. This wasn't Larry anymore.

This was Wraith.

His eyes flicked to the doorknob.

It began to turn.

Ella pressed her hand to Larry's back, grounding him.

He exhaled softly-almost human again.

The door swung open.

Lieutenant Harris's eyebrows shot up when he saw both of them. "Rivera? What's going on? We heard-"

Larry stepped forward, body angled perfectly to block Ella from view.

"Lock malfunction," Larry said coolly. "Dropped a chair. Loudly."

Harris's gaze darted to Ella. "Is that true?"

Ella forced herself to breathe normally. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry-it slipped."

Harris's jaw tightened. He scanned the room-the files on the table, the tension thick in the air, the faint scent of adrenaline and fear.

"Right," Harris said slowly. "Well... be careful."

He glanced at Larry again-too long, too suspicious-and then quietly closed the door.

Larry waited three full seconds before moving. Once he was certain Harris was gone, he turned to Ella.

"We need to leave," he said. "Now."

Ella's voice cracked. "He knows."

"Yes," Larry said. "And he's not the only one."

Ella gathered the scattered files with trembling hands. Larry was already scanning the hallway through the blinds.

"Movement near the bullpen," he whispered. "Two officers. Vaughn and Cole."

"The other two suspects," Ella murmured.

Larry nodded. "They're looking for us."

Ella felt sick. How deep did this go? How long had Marcus been leaking information? And worse-how long had her own colleagues been studying her like a chess piece, mapping every step she took?

"What if Harris is involved too?" she whispered.

Larry didn't answer immediately.

When he finally did, his voice was tight.

"I think the orchestrator has at least three people on the inside. Possibly more."

Ella felt something inside her crack-not physically, but emotionally. Like the thin strand of belief holding her loyalty to the precinct had finally snapped.

Larry nudged her toward the side hallway. "We exit through Records. Less traffic. Cameras are out on that side."

Ella stiffened. "Cameras are out? For how long?"

"Since we walked in," Larry said grimly. "Which means someone was waiting."

Her pulse thudded painfully.

They moved quickly, quietly, down the hallway. Larry made her walk two steps behind him, staying between her and every doorway, every corner, every shadow.

She should've felt safer.

Instead, she felt exposed.

Every officer she passed suddenly looked like an enemy.

When they reached the stairwell, Larry slowed.

"Wait."

He placed his hand on the railing, closed his eyes, and listened.

Someone was breathing below.

Slow.

Steady.

Purposeful.

Larry opened his eyes. "We take the roof."

Ella blinked. "The roof? How are we supposed to-"

But Larry was already moving upward, practically silent despite his speed.

She followed him up three flights of stairs until they emerged onto the rooftop access door. Larry picked the lock with a paperclip taken from his pocket-she didn't even want to know how he'd developed that skill.

The rooftop was empty. Overcast sky stretched above them like a bruise. The wind slapped against Ella's face, cold and raw.

Larry scanned the edges. "There."

He pointed to the building adjacent to the precinct. The gap wasn't wide, but it wasn't small either. Ten feet of open air over a four-story drop.

Ella stared. "No. Larry. No way."

Larry turned to her.

"Ella. Look at me."

She hesitated, then met his eyes.

"We can't go down. They're waiting. They already think you're compromised."

"It's you they're after," she whispered.

"No," he said quietly. "It's us."

The word hit her like a fist to the chest.

Us.

He stepped closer.

"Ella, if they get their hands on you, they'll use you against me. You know that."

"I'm not a liability," she shot back, voice shaking.

"You're not." His voice softened. "You're the only leverage they know works."

Ella hated that he was right.

Larry walked to the ledge. "Take my hand. I'll pull you across."

She laughed-borderline hysterical. "You think I can make that jump?"

"You don't need to. I'll lift you."

"Lift me across a ten-foot rooftop gap?"

"Yes."

Ella stared at him. "That's insane."

Larry didn't blink. "Ella. Do you trust me?"

The wind roared around them.

Sirens wailed in the distance.

Her heart pounded.

Did she trust him?

Yes.

Terrifyingly, yes.

She took a shaky breath.

"Okay."

Larry lifted her into his arms-effortless, steady, unshakably secure. She felt his strength, the tension in his muscles, the controlled breathing of a man preparing for risk.

"Wrap your arms around my neck," he murmured.

She did.

And with a single, powerful leap, Larry launched them across the gap.

Ella's scream was swallowed by the wind.

His boots hit the gravel roof of the neighboring building hard, knees bending, absorbing the impact. He didn't stumble. Not even a little.

Ella clung to him long after they landed, trembling, breathless, terrified.

"You okay?" he whispered.

She nodded mutely.

Then Larry stiffened.

"We're not alone."

A figure emerged from behind the rooftop vent.

Detective Vaughn.

Gun raised.

Ella gasped. "Vaughn? What the hell-"

"Drop the files, Rivera," Vaughn barked. "Now."

Larry shifted his stance, placing Ella behind him.

Vaughn's eyes narrowed. "You picked the wrong side, Rivera."

Ella's voice cracked. "Vaughn, don't do this."

"You should've stayed ignorant," he growled. "Marcus tried to warn you."

"Marcus betrayed the entire department!"

Vaughn snorted. "Please. If you knew half of what was going on, you'd be thanking him. You're in over your head."

Larry's voice dropped to a low, lethal calm. "Put the gun down."

Vaughn aimed directly at Larry. "You're the reason she's involved. You should've stayed dead."

Ella's heart lurched.

Larry didn't move.

Vaughn stepped closer. "Orders are orders, Wraith."

Ella froze.

Vaughn knew.

Vaughn knew who Larry was.

"Put the files down," Vaughn snarled, "and maybe I'll keep Rivera alive. For now."

Larry took a step forward.

Vaughn cocked the gun.

"Ah-ah. Dead men don't get second chances."

Something in Larry's expression changed.

A chilling calm washed over him.

Ella recognized it.

Wraith.

He spoke with terrifying softness.

"You should've shot the moment you saw me."

"What?" Vaughn barked.

Larry moved in a blur.

Ella barely saw it-one second Vaughn was aiming, and the next the gun was ripped from his hand, skittering across the rooftop.

Vaughn lunged at Larry.

Larry sidestepped effortlessly, twisting Vaughn's arm until a sickening crack echoed.

Vaughn screamed.

Larry shoved him against the vent, arm twisted behind his back.

Ella picked up the dropped gun, hands shaking.

"Who are you working for?" Larry growled.

Vaughn gritted his teeth. "Go to hell."

Larry twisted harder. Vaughn shrieked.

"Larry!" Ella said sharply. "Stop-he's useless if he's unconscious."

Larry loosened the pressure-barely.

"Talk," he hissed.

Vaughn spat blood. "You won't stop them. You can't stop them. They own the city. They own the force. They owned you."

Larry's jaw clenched violently.

Vaughn grinned through the pain. "Oh yeah... I know what you were. I know what they turned you into."

Ella stepped closer. "Vaughn. Who is the orchestrator?"

Vaughn laughed-a broken, bitter sound. "You won't believe me."

"Try us," Larry snapped.

"You don't get it, Rivera," Vaughn hissed. "This whole place is a puppet show. And the man pulling the strings-he's always been right under your nose."

Ella felt her stomach twist.

"Who?!"

Vaughn leaned in, voice a whisper of triumph.

"You already trust him."

Ella froze.

Larry's grip tightened. "Say his name."

Vaughn opened his mouth-

Bang.

A single bullet struck Vaughn square in the forehead.

Ella screamed.

Larry dove over her instinctively, shielding her.

Vaughn's body slumped lifelessly to the rooftop.

Ella stared in horror.

"There's a sniper," Larry said, pulling her to cover. "We need to move."

"But Vaughn-" she gasped.

"He's dead. We won't be next."

Larry grabbed her wrist and raced toward the far side of the roof.

Ella's mind was chaos.

People she trusted were dying.

People she knew were betraying her.

And someone-someone right under her nose-was pulling every string.

They reached the fire escape.

Larry swung himself over the edge, then helped her down quickly, carefully, shielding her with his body the whole way.

When they reached the alley below, Ella's legs nearly buckled. Larry caught her.

"You're okay," he murmured, steadying her. "Ella. Stay with me."

She nodded, breath shaking.

"Larry..." she whispered. "This... this is bigger than anything we thought."

"Yes," he said. "And we're running out of time."

He guided her quickly toward the street, eyes constantly scanning.

But before they made it ten steps-

A black SUV screeched into the alley, blocking their way.

Four masked men jumped out.

Larry pushed Ella behind him.

They were trapped.

One of the masked men pointed a gun directly at Ella.

"Detective Rivera," the man said calmly. "You're coming with us."

Larry's voice darkened to something deadly. "Over my dead body."

The man shrugged. "That can be arranged."

Ella grabbed Larry's arm. "Larry-don't. We can't fight all of them."

"We don't need to fight all of them," Larry said quietly. "Just the first one."

He subtly shifted his weight.

Ella caught it. Wraith was about to take over fully.

"No," she whispered urgently. "Larry, listen. If they want me alive, they won't shoot. But they'll kill you. Don't do this."

Larry turned his head slightly.

And for the first time, she saw something raw flicker across his expression-fear.

Not fear for himself.

Fear for her.

"Ella..." he whispered.

Before he could finish, the masked man lifted a small device. A phone.

He pressed play.

A familiar voice spilled out.

Marcus.

"Bring her to me.

Don't hurt her.

I'll handle the rest."

Ella's heart clenched painfully.

"No," she whispered. "Marcus... why?"

Larry stepped forward, fury radiating off him.

"What do you want with her?" he demanded.

The masked men raised their rifles.

Ella grabbed Larry's hand tightly. "Don't. Please."

The leader spoke again. "Detective Rivera. You're coming with us. Now."

Ella swallowed hard. "And if I don't?"

He aimed directly between her eyes.

"Then we kill your Wraith."

Larry moved instantly.

"No-Larry!" she cried.

He pushed her behind a dumpster, shielding her completely as he prepared to take on all four men-

But he froze.

Something sharp stung his neck.

A tranquilizer dart.

"Larry!" Ella screamed, reaching for him.

He staggered, blinking hard, muscles fighting to stay functional.

"Ella," he rasped. "Run."

Another dart hit him.

He dropped to his knees.

Ella grabbed his face, sobbing. "No. No. Larry, stay with me. Stay with me."

He cupped her cheek with a trembling hand.

"I'm not leaving you," he whispered.

His eyes fluttered.

The masked men grabbed Ella, pulling her back.

She screamed, kicking, clawing. "Larry! Larry!"

Larry tried to stand-one last attempt. His body trembled violently, refusing to obey.

The leader leaned close to Ella's ear.

"Don't worry," he breathed. "He'll wake up soon enough."

Ella's blood went cold.

The world spun.

And the last thing she saw before a hood was thrown over her head was Larry collapsing onto the concrete-

Unconscious.

Defeated.

Unable to save her.

Darkness swallowed her.

She was shoved into a vehicle.

Hands tied.

Heart racing.

The SUV sped away.

Ella screamed Larry's name until her throat tore.

But he didn't answer.

He couldn't.

Because the last tranquilizer dart had been dosed specifically for him-strong enough to bring down a man twice his size.

As the SUV roared through the city, someone beside her lifted her hood just enough to whisper into her ear.

A voice she knew.

A voice she trusted.

A voice that shattered her.

"Ella," the voice murmured softly. "I told you I'd protect you."

Her blood froze.

The hood came off.

And she saw him sitting across from her.

Smiling calmly.

Marcus.

His eyes were warm.

His voice gentle.

His expression heartbreakingly sincere.

"I'm glad you're safe," Marcus whispered. "I've been waiting for you."

Ella's breath caught.

"Marcus," she whispered. "Where are you taking me?"

His smile widened.

"Home."

Ella shook her head violently. "You're insane."

Marcus reached forward, cupping her cheek the way Larry had moments earlier-but with something colder behind it.

"No," he said softly. "I'm the only one who's ever truly cared for you."

Ella recoiled.

Marcus exhaled, disappointed.

"You'll understand soon," he murmured. "You'll see the truth."

Ella glared at him, tears burning her eyes. "Marcus... what is this about? Why are you doing this?"

He leaned forward, eyes shining with something unhinged.

"Because," he whispered,

"you should never have trusted Larry."

Ella's stomach twisted.

Marcus smiled.

"After all... he wasn't just trained to kill people."

A long pause.

"He was trained to forget them."

Ella froze.

"What... what are you talking about?"

Marcus tilted his head, studying her.

"You really don't know, do you?"

Ella's pulse thundered.

Marcus leaned in, voice a whisper of poison.

"You brought a ghost into your home. A killer into your life. A man who was programmed to wipe out memories that get in the way of his assignments."

Ella felt her world collapse.

"No," she whispered. "No, that's a lie."

Marcus smiled sadly. "Is it? Think, Ella. Why do you think he only remembers you?"

Ella's breath hitched.

Marcus continued.

"Because you were his last target."

Her heart stopped.

Marcus whispered:

"Larry was ordered to kill you."

Ella's scream filled the SUV-

And everything went black.