Edge of the Dark

Chapter 11: Chapter 11: The Price of Truth

The tension in the air was thick, suffocating, as Ethan and Grace crouched behind the console, holding their breaths. Every footstep that echoed through the metallic hallway seemed amplified, as if it were the sound of their own doom approaching. The door to the central room had barely creaked open, but the danger was palpable. This was not a simple security breach. Whoever was outside was not here by accident—they were here for something. Or someone.

Ethan's hand moved to his side, where he kept his gun. He hadn't drawn it yet, but his fingers tingled with the need to be ready. They couldn't afford to make a mistake. Every second felt like a countdown to disaster.

Grace's face was a mask of concentration, her eyes scanning the room, searching for a way out. She knew the stakes as well as Ethan did—this wasn't just about escaping with information. This was about survival. If they didn't find a way to leave the building alive, none of the answers they had uncovered so far would matter.

The footsteps stopped just outside the door, and for a moment, everything was still. Ethan's heart pounded in his chest, a heavy thudding that seemed to reverberate through his entire body. There was a creak as the door opened wider, followed by the soft scrape of boots against the floor.

"Check the vault," one of the figures said, his voice low but authoritative.

Ethan's body tensed. The vault was in the center of the room, standing as a cold sentinel to whatever secrets the Syndicate had buried within. The figures didn't know it yet, but they were walking straight into a trap. Ethan had planned for this. He had to.

The door creaked open further, the dark silhouettes of the intruders now fully visible. There were three of them—two men and one woman. The woman, dressed in black tactical gear, was the first to step through the doorway. She was tall, with an almost feline grace, her eyes scanning the room as if she could sense the danger lurking in the shadows.

Ethan's grip on his gun tightened. He had no idea who they were, but he didn't need to. He didn't need to know their names. He just needed to stop them from getting to the vault.

Suddenly, the sharp sound of a door opening further down the hallway caught his attention. There was a faint glimmer of movement, and then a figure darted into the room from the other side.

"Grace!" Ethan hissed under his breath, his voice barely audible.

Grace's eyes snapped to him, and she immediately understood. They had to act fast.

Ethan sprung to his feet, his gun raised. Before the intruders could react, he fired a single shot at the ceiling. The loud noise rang through the room, followed by the ringing of silence.

"Don't move!" Ethan shouted, his voice cold and steady.

The intruders froze, their eyes flicking around the room, trying to identify the source of the shot. They hadn't expected this—nobody had. Ethan's pulse raced as he slowly approached the vault, keeping his gun trained on the group. Grace followed closely behind, her own gun drawn, eyes scanning the room for any other threats.

The woman was the first to regain her composure. She took a step forward, hands raised in a gesture of surrender. "We don't want trouble," she said, her voice smooth, calculated. "We're just here to take what's ours."

Ethan didn't lower his weapon. He knew better than to trust anyone who was part of this operation. "You're with the Syndicate, aren't you?" he demanded.

The woman didn't flinch. Instead, she smiled—a cold, calculating smile. "You don't know who you're dealing with, detective. The Syndicate is just the beginning."

Before Ethan could respond, there was a sudden, loud crash from behind him. He spun around, his gun raised, but it was too late. A man in black tactical gear had burst through the door, a flash of steel in his hand.

Ethan reacted instinctively, diving toward the figure, but it was a split second too slow. The man swung the knife toward Grace.

The blade slashed across Grace's side with brutal precision. She let out a sharp gasp, staggering back from the blow. Ethan's mind raced as he saw her blood seep through her clothes, but there was no time to react. He lunged at the attacker, his fist colliding with the man's face with a sickening thud. The attacker staggered, momentarily stunned, but Ethan didn't give him time to recover. A sharp, precise strike to the man's throat sent him crumpling to the floor, gasping for air.

The woman in the room was already moving, pulling a gun from her holster. Ethan barely had time to register the movement before the sound of the shot rang through the air.

The bullet hit him in the shoulder, throwing him back. Pain exploded in his chest, but he forced himself to stay conscious, to stay focused. The woman was advancing, but he wasn't going to let her finish him off. He gritted his teeth, pushing through the agony, and fired a single shot at her leg. She screamed, crumpling to the ground, but the gun in her hand fell harmlessly to the floor.

Ethan staggered to his feet, his body screaming in protest, but there was no time to give in to the pain. Grace was bleeding out, and they needed to leave.

The room was silent again, except for the soft, pained groans of the remaining attackers. Ethan staggered toward Grace, his hand reaching out to support her. "You're going to be okay," he muttered, though he wasn't sure he believed it.

Grace's breath came in shallow gasps, and she gave him a weak, pained smile. "Get... out of here, Ethan. You need... to finish this."

He shook his head, his mind racing. "No. I'm not leaving you behind."

But Grace's grip on his arm tightened for a moment, and she shook her head, wincing. "It's too late for me. I'll hold them off. You need to finish what we started."

Ethan's heart thudded painfully in his chest. She couldn't be serious. They'd come too far, and he wasn't going to let her die, not like this.

"Grace, I—" He started, but his words faltered as she looked up at him with an intensity he hadn't seen before.

"You have to find the truth, Ethan. You're the only one who can."

Tears stung Ethan's eyes, but he wiped them away, swallowing hard. He couldn't afford to waste time on regret. He wasn't sure what he was going to find when he finally got to the vault. But one thing was certain: it had to end tonight.

With one last look at Grace, he moved toward the vault, taking the key card she had handed him earlier. The door opened with a soft, mechanical whir, revealing a small, dimly lit room beyond.

The truth was waiting.

But when Ethan stepped inside, the weight of it hit him all at once.

The room was filled with files—files that detailed every dark deal, every dirty secret the Syndicate had ever been involved in. Weapons smuggling, human trafficking, political bribery, corporate espionage... and something even darker that made Ethan's blood run cold.

But there, in the center of the room, was something even more chilling.

A small, glass display case, inside of which sat a photograph. A photograph of a woman.

Lila. n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

Ethan's breath caught in his throat. He stared at the photo in disbelief. This wasn't just about the Syndicate. It was personal.

Suddenly, the door behind him slammed shut. He spun around, gun raised, but it was too late.

The last thing he heard before the world went black was a soft chuckle.