The sound of breaking glass wasn't loud, but it was sharp—like a line being crossed.
Daniel's hand shot out, pulling me instinctively behind a tall, crumbling bookshelf. The library had always felt timeless, but now it was suddenly claustrophobic, its shadows thick with danger.
"Did you tell anyone you were meeting me?" he asked, voice low, eyes scanning the entrance.
"No one." I hesitated. "Except Alex."
Daniel didn't react, but his silence was telling.
"I trust him," I said quickly.
"You shouldn't trust anyone right now," he muttered.
Footsteps echoed across the stone floor, slow and deliberate.
"Stay here," he ordered, and before I could protest, he slipped away between shelves like smoke, soundless and fast.
I pressed myself against the wall, heart thudding. Every instinct screamed for me to run, but another part of me—the part that had weathered every lie and twist in this mess—refused to back down.
A shadow passed by the entrance. Then another. More than one.
*How many people were in this building?*
A voice—low, male—cut through the silence like a knife. "We know she's here. Find her."
I didn't recognize it.
They weren't just here for surveillance. They were here to take me.
I ducked low and crawled toward the far corner, where an old librarian's desk still sat. Daniel was nowhere in sight. My phone buzzed in my pocket—I risked a glance.
**Alex:** *You're not safe. Get out. They breached the signal.*
Breached. They'd traced me.
I texted back quickly: *Too late. They're inside.*
A second later, another buzz.
**Alex:** *Hold tight. I'm coming.*
My hands were trembling now. The kind of fear that came not from one person with a grudge, but an unseen machine moving behind them. *Argentum.* The name meant something deeper than we understood.
And right now, they wanted me silenced.
One of the men moved past my hiding place—close enough that I could smell the sharp tang of gun oil and cologne. This wasn't amateur hour.
I needed a distraction.
I reached slowly toward the desk, fingers wrapping around a heavy book—one of those dusty tomes no one ever checked out. With a quick prayer, I hurled it across the room.
It crashed loudly against a stack of old chairs.
"Go!" someone barked.
The footsteps rushed toward the sound.
I bolted.
Down a side hallway. Around a forgotten study room. Toward a back exit I remembered from my previous visits.
Just as I reached the door—someone grabbed my wrist.
I twisted, ready to strike—
"Stacey! It's me."
Daniel.
He dragged me through the door, rain drenching us immediately as we fled into the alley. His car was parked half a block down, and we sprinted for it like fugitives.
Inside, soaked and breathless, we sat in silence for a moment, our adrenaline slowly crashing.
"What the hell was that?" I asked finally.
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he started the car and pulled away from the curb.
"Argentum isn't just a name," he said. "It's a group. A collective. Think whistleblowers, fixers, spies, corporate mercenaries—only they don't operate for truth or justice. They operate for balance. Control. Whoever has the most influence. Right now, that's Jared."
My throat dried.
"So Sophie was right," I whispered. "I'm in over my head."
He looked at me. "We both are."
—
Back at my apartment, I locked the doors, pulled the curtains, and changed out of my soaked clothes.
Daniel was pacing.
"Why didn't you tell me this sooner?" I asked.
"Because I thought I could cut it off before it reached you."
"But it already *has.*"
He stopped. "Yes. And it's going to get worse. They've labeled you a variable—an anomaly they can't predict."
"What does that even mean?"
"It means they don't know how to control you. And that scares them more than anything."
I sank onto the couch, mind racing. I thought of Sophie. Of Alex. Of the way Jared had always seemed just… too clean. Too safe.
"I need to speak to Jared," I said suddenly.
Daniel turned. "Absolutely not."
"I'm not asking your permission. I'm telling you. If he's orchestrating this, I need to hear it from him. I need to look him in the eye."
Daniel stepped forward. "And what if he tells you exactly what you want to hear? What if he's better at this than any of us?"
I didn't flinch. "Then I'll know what I'm up against."
Silence stretched between us again.
Finally, he said, "Then I'm coming with you."
"No," I said. "If this is a trap, I can't afford to walk in with someone they already expect."
His jaw clenched. "Then we make a deal—you wear a mic. I'll be listening."
I nodded. "Fine."
As he moved to prepare the equipment, I stepped into the other room and stared at my reflection. This girl—this woman—looked like me, but wasn't the same.
She didn't flinch anymore. She didn't cry as quickly. She asked the hard questions.
And soon, she'd face the biggest lie of them all.