WHOLE STORY: The rain was cold, the silence colder. My sister’s voice cut through both like a blade: “She’s a deserter.”

Disclaimer: This story is entirely fictional and created for entertainment purposes only. It does not represent any organization or individual, nor does it encourage inappropriate behavior. The content was generated with AI assistance.

PART 2 – My Sister Called Me a Disgrace at Grandpa’s Funeral

Rebecca’s fear hit me harder than her anger ever could.

In five years, I had never seen my sister afraid.

Not when our father walked out. Not when her first marriage collapsed. Not when she lost her position on the charity board.

But right now, standing in the rain beside our grandfather’s fresh grave, Rebecca Whitmore looked terrified.

My phone screen went dark.

I pocketed it quickly.

General Hale shifted beside me, his hand resting near his sidearm.

“Commander, we need to leave immediately.”

“Not yet.”

“Claire.”

“Not yet.”

I started walking toward Rebecca.

She stepped backward instinctively.

Her expensive heels sank into the wet grass.

“Stay away from me,” she said.

Her voice cracked.

“You know something,” I said.

“I don’t.”

“Rebecca.”

She shook her head rapidly. “I don’t know anything. I was just trying to humiliate you. That’s all. That’s everything.”

General Hale caught up to me.

“Commander, this is a security risk.”

“She’s my sister.”

“She may also be compromised.”

Rebecca’s eyes widened.

“Compromised? What does that mean? What the hell is happening?”

I stopped two feet away from her.

“Grandpa’s death wasn’t natural.”

She stared at me.

“That’s impossible. I saw the medical report. I signed the paperwork.”

“The paperwork was falsified.”

“By who?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

Rebecca’s umbrella dropped from her hand.

Rain soaked her perfect hair, her expensive coat, her carefully composed mask.

“I hated you,” she whispered.

“I know.”

“I told everyone you were a coward. I told them you ran away because you couldn’t handle real life.”

“I know.”

“And now they’re going to find out I was wrong.”

I looked at my sister.

For the first time in our adult lives, I saw through her armor.

She wasn’t cruel because she was strong.

She was cruel because she was weak.

And weakness, in our family, was the unforgivable sin.

“That’s not why I’m here,” I said.

“Then why?”

“Because Grandpa left me a letter.”

Rebecca’s face crumpled.

“He left me nothing. Not a word. Not a keepsake. Just a bank account and a list of things I was expected to handle.”

The rain fell harder.

General Hale’s voice cut through.

“Commander, we have movement.”

I turned.

A second black sedan had appeared at the cemetery gates.

This one had no military markings.

“That’s not your people?” I asked.

“No.”

The sedan stopped.

The doors remained closed.

Waiting.

“Rebecca, get inside the chapel,” I ordered.

“I’m not taking orders from you.”

“Now.”

Something in my voice must have changed.

She moved.

General Hale pulled out his phone.

“I’m calling for backup.”

The sedan’s engine revved.

Then it reversed.

Drove away.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

Like a message delivered.

“They’re gone,” I said.

“They’re not gone,” Hale replied. “They’re watching.”

I looked at the folded flag still pressed against my chest.

The weight of it felt different now.

Maybe it was never just a flag.

Maybe it was a warning.

I unbuttoned my coat.

Checked the inner pocket.

Grandpa’s letter was still there.

But beneath it, I felt something I hadn’t noticed before.

A small bulge.

I reached inside.

My fingers touched the edge of a USB drive.

Taped to the inside of the lining.

Someone had hidden it there.

Recently.

Before the funeral.

I pulled it out.

General Hale’s face went pale again.

“What is that?”

“I don’t know.”

I held it up.

Metal casing.

No markings.

Military grade encryption.

“It wasn’t there this morning,” I said.

“Then someone planted it on you.”

“During the service.”

We both looked toward the chapel.

“There were twelve people close enough,” he said. “The honor guard. The chaplain. The officer who presented the flag.”

I shook my head.

“They would have been searched before the ceremony.”

“Then who?”

I thought back.

Every hand that touched me.

Every person who came close.

The senator who shook my hand with both of his.

The defense contractor who apologized.

The uncle who said he didn’t know.

And then—

Rebecca.

Standing in front of me at the gate.

Blocking my path.

Touching my shoulder once, briefly, when she said my name.

“No,” I whispered.

“What?”

“She didn’t put it there.”

“How do you know?”

“Because she doesn’t have access to equipment like this.”

I stared at the drive.

“But someone she knows does.”

General Hale took a breath.

“Commander, I need to tell you something.”

“What?”

“Your grandfather contacted me twice.”

“You said that.”

“The first time was two days before he died.”

I waited.

“The second time was the morning of his death.”

My heart stopped.

“What did he say?”

Hale looked at the ground.

“Just two words.”

“Tell me.”

He met my eyes.

“Find Claire.”

The rain seemed to pause.

The cemetery went silent.

“He knew,” I said.

“Yes.”

“He knew someone was coming for him.”

“Yes.”

“And he knew they would use me.”

“I don’t know.”

I looked at the USB drive.

Then at the flag.

Then at my sister, standing in the chapel doorway, shaking.

“We need a secure computer,” I said.

General Hale nodded.

“My office. Thirty minutes.”

I turned and walked toward the chapel.

Rebecca flinched as I approached.

“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly.

“What?”

“For everything I said. For the gate. For the word. I didn’t know.”

I studied her face.

Looking for lies.

Looking for fear.

Looking for guilt.

I found only sadness.

“Grandpa left me a message too,” she whispered.

“What?”

“The funeral home gave me a sealed envelope this morning. I thought it was instructions.”

“What did it say?”

She reached into her pocket.

Her hand trembled.

She handed me a folded piece of paper.

One sentence.

Rebecca, forgive her before it’s too late.

I read it three times.

“He knew,” I said again.

“Knew what?”

“That I would be blamed. That you would hate me. That the funeral would be where everything broke open.”

Rebecca started crying.

“I don’t know what’s happening.”

“Neither do I.”

I put my hand on her shoulder.

For the first time in five years, she didn’t pull away.

“But I’m going to find out.”

“What about the family?”

“The family doesn’t matter.”

She looked at me.

I looked at her.

“Let’s go.”

The sedan ride was silent.

General Hale drove.

I sat in the back.

Rebecca sat beside me, still holding the folded paper.

The flag rested across my lap like a shield.

The USB drive burned a hole in my pocket.

When we pulled into the secure parking garage, my phone buzzed again.

Same unknown number.

Same distorted voice.

Different message.

The file on the desk wasn’t yours.

It was hers.

The message disappeared before I could screenshot it.

“He’s watching,” I said.

“Who?”

“I don’t know.”

But I looked at my sister.

And she looked back at me.

And for the first time in five years, we weren’t enemies.

We were targets.

# PART 3 – My Sister Called Me a Disgrace at Grandpa’s Funeral – 4

General Hale parked the sedan in a reserved spot marked with his four-star seal.

The garage was dim and concrete, lit by humming fluorescent tubes.

Rebecca’s hands were still shaking.

I watched her carefully.

“Give me your phone,” I said.

“What?”

“Your phone. Now.”

She pulled it from her coat pocket.

I took it and checked recent messages.

The last text she’d received was from the funeral home, sent three hours earlier.

No unknown numbers.

No coded messages.

But my gut told me something else.

“Who else knew you’d be at the funeral?” I asked.

“Everyone. The announcement was in the paper.”

“Who knew you’d be standing at the gate?”

She paused.

“I told my assistant I would intercept you there.”

“Who else heard that conversation?”

“I don’t know. We were in my office. The door was closed.”

General Hale stepped closer.

“We need to move inside now.”

We followed him through a steel door and down a narrow hallway.

The building smelled like old coffee, cleaning solution, and anxiety.

His office was larger than I expected.

No windows.

One metal desk.

Two chairs.

A secure computer terminal bolted to the surface.

A small safe in the corner.

“Lock the door,” he said.

Rebecca did.

I sat down and pulled out the USB drive.

“You sure about this?” Hale asked.

“No.”

“It could be a trap.”

“I know.”

I looked at Rebecca.

She was pale, but her eyes were steady.

“I want to see it too,” she said.

“You might not survive what’s on it.”

“None of us might survive anyway.”

I plugged the drive into the terminal.

The screen flickered.

A password prompt appeared.

*ENTER AUTHORIZATION CODE*

“I don’t have a code,” I said.

General Hale moved beside me.

“Try your grandfather’s service number.”

I typed it.

*ACCESS DENIED*

“Try his date of birth.”

*ACCESS DENIED*

Rebecca stepped forward.

“Try his wedding date.”

I entered it.

*ACCESS DENIED*

I leaned back.

“There’s one more number.”

“What?” Hale asked.

“The coordinates of his first deployment.”

I typed them from memory.

The screen went black.

Then a single word appeared.

*CLAIRE*

The system recognized my name.

A file began loading.

Rebecca gasped.

The screen filled with images.

Photographs.

Documents.

Satellite images.

A name at the top:

*PROJECT VALKYRIE*

Underneath:

*CLASSIFIED ABOVE TOP SECRET*

“What is this?” I whispered.

General Hale’s face had turned ashen.

“I’ve never seen this classification before.”

“That’s not possible. You’re a four-star general.”

“Those exist above my clearance.”

I scrolled down.

The first image was a group of soldiers.

Men and women in desert camouflage.

Standing in front of a compound I didn’t recognize.

But I recognized one face.

“That’s Grandpa.”

He was younger.

Maybe thirty years younger.

Standing beside a man with no rank insignia.

Just a black patch.

Rebecca leaned closer.

“Who’s the other man?”

I zoomed in.

The man’s face was partially obscured.

But his eyes were clear.

Sharp.

Cruel.

“I don’t know,” I said.

General Hale pointed at the screen.

“Look at the patch.”

A symbol.

A raven holding a key.

I had never seen it before.

“That’s not any unit I know,” he said.

I scrolled further.

The next file was a memo.

Dated three weeks before Grandpa died.

*SUBJECT: SECURITY BREACH – WHITMORE FILE*

*CONTACT COMMANDER C.W. WITH EXTREME CAUTION*

*DO NOT TRUST UNIT 7*

*REPEAT: DO NOT TRUST UNIT 7*

Rebecca grabbed my arm.

“What is Unit 7?”

“I don’t know.”

But my stomach dropped.

Because I remembered something.

The night before my last deployment.

Grandpa had called me.

He had been drinking, which was rare.

“Claire,” he had said. “There are people in this world who wear our uniform but don’t serve our country.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean there’s a unit. They’re hidden. They answer to no one.”

“What unit?”

He had paused.

“I can’t say the name. But if you ever hear the number seven, run.”

The line went dead.

I had dismissed it as paranoia.

Old age.

Too much whiskey.

But now I was staring at a file that confirmed everything.

“He warned me,” I whispered.

“What?” Rebecca asked.

“He told me about Unit 7. Years ago. I thought he was confused.”

General Hale sat down heavily.

“If Unit 7 is real, they could be anyone.”

“Including someone in this room.”

We all went silent.

The fluorescent lights hummed.

The computer screen glowed.

I looked at Rebecca.

She looked at me.

Then at Hale.

“I didn’t know anything,” she said. “I swear.”

“I believe you.”

“Do you believe me?” Hale asked.

I studied his face.

Four stars.

Three decades of service.

A man who had saluted me in front of my family.

But trust had become a luxury I couldn’t afford.

“I want to believe you,” I said.

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one I have right now.”

I turned back to the screen.

There was one more file.

A video.

Labeled: *EDWARD WHITMORE – FINAL STATEMENT*

I clicked play.

Grandpa appeared on screen.

He was sitting in his study.

The same study where he had taught me chess.

The same chair where he had read me stories.

But his face was different.

Tired.

Scared.

“Claire, if you’re watching this, I’m already gone.”

My chest tightened.

“I didn’t die of natural causes. I found something I wasn’t supposed to find. And now people are coming for me.”

He leaned forward.

“There’s a list. Names of everyone involved in Project Valkyrie. I hid it somewhere only you would think to look.”

He smiled weakly.

“You remember the fishing spot. The one where you caught your first trout.”

Tears burned my eyes.

“The box is buried there. Under the old oak tree. The one with the carved initials.”

He paused.

“Be careful who you trust. Even people who seem loyal.”

“Especially them.”

The video ended.

I sat in silence.

Rebecca was crying silently.

General Hale stared at the floor.

“The fishing spot,” I said. “It’s three hours north of here.”

“We can’t go now,” Hale said. “It’s too dangerous.”

“I have to.”

“Claire—”

“He died for this information. I’m not letting it rot in the ground.”

Rebecca wiped her eyes.

“I’m coming with you.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Rebecca, you don’t know how to handle—”

“I don’t care.”

Her voice was firm.

“I spent five years hating you. I spent today trying to destroy you. But Grandpa’s last words to me were to forgive you.”

She stepped closer.

“I’m not letting you face this alone.”

I looked at her.

At the sister who had called me a deserter.

At the woman who had humiliated me in front of the world.

And I saw something I had never seen before.

Loyalty.

“Fine. But you follow my orders.”

“I will.”

General Hale stood.

“I’ll get us a vehicle. Untraceable.”

“And the USB drive?”

“Destroy it after we have the list.”

I nodded.

But as I reached to pull the drive out, I noticed something.

A small light on the side.

Blinking red.

“What’s that?” Rebecca asked.

My blood turned cold.

“It’s a tracker.”

“What?”

“The drive is transmitting our location.”

General Hale’s face went pale.

“How long has it been active?”

I looked at the screen.

The blinking had started when I plugged it in.

Twenty minutes ago.

“They know we’re here,” I whispered.

The lights in the office flickered.

Then died.

Emergency generators kicked in.

Red emergency lights bathed the room.

“We need to move,” Hale said.

I yanked the drive out.

The blinking stopped.

But it didn’t matter.

They already knew.

I stuffed the drive in my pocket.

Grabbed the flag.

Looked at my sister.

“Stay close to me.”

“I will.”

We moved toward the door.

Hale drew his sidearm.

The hallway was dark.

Silent.

Too silent.

Then I heard it.

Footsteps.

Multiple sets.

Coming from both directions.

“They’re here,” I said.

Rebecca grabbed my arm.

“What do we do?”

I looked at the flag in my hands.

Grandpa’s flag.

And I remembered what he had told me five years ago.

“Sometimes you survive long enough to take it.”

I turned to General Hale.

“Is there another exit?”

He nodded toward the end of the hall.

“Service tunnel. Leads to the street.”

“Can we make it?”

“Only if we don’t stop.”

I took Rebecca’s hand.

She squeezed back.

“On my count,” I said.

“Three.”

“Two.”

“One.”

# PART 4 – My Sister Called Me a Disgrace at Grandpa’s Funeral – 5

The count hit zero and I pulled Rebecca forward.

General Hale moved first, his boots silent against the concrete floor.

Emergency lights painted everything in bloody red.

The footsteps grew louder.

Closer.

Two directions.

We were being pinched.

Hale reached the service tunnel door and yanked it open.

The hinges screamed.

“Go,” he hissed.

I pushed Rebecca through first.

The tunnel was narrow, lined with pipes, pitch black except for a dim light at the far end.

Water dripped somewhere.

The smell of rust and damp concrete filled my lungs.

Rebecca stumbled.

I caught her arm.

“Keep moving.”

General Hale closed the door behind us and slid a metal bolt across it.

It wouldn’t hold long.

“They’ll find another way in,” he said.

“How far to the street?”

“Two hundred meters.”

We ran.

The tunnel curved left, then right.

Our footsteps echoed like gunshots.

Behind us, the door exploded open.

Metal shrieking.

Voices shouting.

“Move,” I ordered.

Rebecca was crying but she didn’t stop.

I could hear her breath catching.

Her heels were useless on the wet floor.

She kicked them off mid-stride.

Barefoot now.

Blood already seeping from a cut on her foot.

But she didn’t stop.

That was my sister.

The one who had never faced anything harder than a fundraising gala.

Running barefoot through a service tunnel with people hunting us.

The end of the tunnel appeared.

A metal ladder leading up to a grate.

Streetlight filtering through.

Hale reached it first.

He climbed three rungs and pushed against the grate.

It didn’t move.

“It’s locked.”

“Can you break it?” I asked.

“Not without drawing attention.”

I looked back.

The voices were closer now.

Flashlights bouncing off the walls.

“I have an idea.”

I pulled the USB drive from my pocket.

The tracker light was still blinking.

“It’s still transmitting.”

“You can’t destroy it yet,” Hale said.

“I’m not destroying it.”

I threw it as hard as I could back into the darkness of the tunnel.

It skidded across the concrete.

Landed somewhere I couldn’t see.

“Move,” I said.

Hale shoved the grate again.

It groaned.

One corner lifted.

He wedged his shoulder against it.

Rebecca climbed past him.

Then me.

Then Hale squeezed through and dropped the grate back into place.

We were in an alley.

Dumpsters.

Broken glass.

A single streetlight flickering overhead.

Rain still falling.

“Which way?” Rebecca asked.

Hale pointed north.

“Three blocks. Safe house. I have a vehicle.”

We moved.

Keeping to shadows.

Every sound made my heart stop.

A car door slamming.

A dog barking.

Footsteps behind us.

No.

Just our own echoes.

We reached the safe house.

An unmarked building between a laundromat and a shuttered convenience store.

Hale entered a code on a keypad.

The door clicked open.

Inside was small.

One room.

A bed.

A table.

A locked cabinet.

No windows facing the street.

“Wait here,” he said.

He opened the cabinet.

Pulled out a laptop.

A burner phone.

A pistol.

He handed me the gun.

“You remember how to use it?”

“I remember.”

I checked the magazine.

Full.

Chambered a round.

Rebecca stared at the weapon.

“Are you going to teach me?”

“No time.”

“Then what do I do if someone comes?”

“Stay behind me.”

She nodded.

I could see her hands trembling.

But her jaw was set.

Hale booted the laptop.

“I need to log into a secure server.”

“How long?”

“Two minutes.”

The burner phone buzzed.

I picked it up.

One message.

*Nice throw. But I already copied the drive.*

My blood froze.

“General.”

He looked up.

“They have the data.”

“How?”

“The tracker wasn’t just a tracker. It was also a transmitter. They downloaded everything the moment I plugged it in.”

Hale’s face darkened.

“Then they have the list too.”

“Maybe.”

“Why maybe?”

I remembered Grandpa’s video.

*The box is buried there.*

“Grandpa knew someone would find the file. That’s why he hid the real list separately.”

“Then we need to get to that fishing spot.”

“They’ll expect us to.”

“Probably.”

I looked at Rebecca.

She was sitting on the bed, wrapping her bleeding foot with a torn piece of sheet.

She met my eyes.

“I’m still coming.”

“Rebecca—”

“Claire. I spent five years being useless. Let me be useful now.”

I didn’t argue.

Hale closed the laptop.

“I have a contact. Someone who can get us out of the city without being tracked.”

“Who?”

“An old friend. Retired. Lives near the lake.”

“Can we trust him?”

Hale paused.

“I don’t know anymore.”

That was the most honest thing he had said all day.

“Then we go alone.”

“Without backup?”

“Backup got us compromised.”

I grabbed a jacket from the cabinet.

Threw one to Rebecca.

“Put this on. Cover your hands. Don’t touch anything.”

She obeyed without question.

Hale handed me keys.

“Blue sedan. Around back. Untraceable plates.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to buy us time. Create a diversion.”

“Diversion?”

He smiled grimly.

“I’m still a four-star general. Let them explain why I just triggered a base-wide security alert.”

He walked to the door.

Paused.

“Commander.”

“Yes?”

“Your grandfather was right about you.”

He left.

The door clicked shut.

Rebecca looked at me.

“What now?”

I held up the keys.

“Now we drive.”

We found the sedan.

Blue.

Unremarkable.

Perfect.

I slid into the driver’s seat.

Rebecca climbed in beside me.

The engine turned over quietly.

I pulled out of the alley.

No headlights.

No rush.

Just a civilian car merging into evening traffic.

Behind us, sirens began wailing in the distance.

Hale’s diversion.

I took a left.

Then a right.

Followed surface streets.

Avoided highways.

Rebecca stared out the window.

“Where are we going?”

“North.”

“How long?”

“Three hours. Maybe more if we take back roads.”

She was quiet for a moment.

Then she spoke.

“I looked through Grandpa’s study after he died.”

My hands tightened on the wheel.

“What did you find?”

“Nothing unusual. At first.”

“But?”

“His desk had a false bottom. I found it by accident.”

I felt my heart rate spike.

“What was inside?”

“A photograph. You and him. Fishing. You were maybe ten.”

I remembered that day.

The sun.

The water.

The first trout I ever caught.

“Anything else?”

“A note. Just one line.”

“What did it say?”

She looked at me.

*If you find this, don’t tell anyone. Not even Claire.*

I processed that.

“Grandpa kept secrets from everyone.”

“Yes.”

“Even from me.”

“Yes.”

“But he still left me the file.”

Rebecca nodded.

“He trusted you with the truth. He trusted me with nothing.”

“That’s not true.”

“He gave me a letter asking me to forgive you. That’s not trust, Claire. That’s damage control.”

I didn’t have an answer.

We drove in silence.

The rain stopped.

The sky darkened.

The road narrowed.

Two hours later, we passed a sign.

*Lake Pendleton – 15 miles*

Almost there.

Then my phone buzzed.

Different number.

But I already knew.

I answered.

Same distorted voice.

“Commander Whitmore.”

“What do you want?”

“You’re going to the lake.”

I said nothing.

“Don’t bother denying it. We have people already there.”

“Then why are you calling?”

“Because I want you to know something.”

“Go ahead.”

“Your grandfather wasn’t the target.”

I gripped the wheel.

“The file on his desk wasn’t his.”

“Whose was it?”

“Yours.”

The call ended.

I pulled over.

My hands were shaking.

“What is it?” Rebecca asked.

I looked at her.

“He said the file on Grandpa’s desk was mine.”

“Your file?”

“My sealed records. My missions. My identity.”

“But Grandpa had it.”

“Yes.”

“Which means someone gave it to him.”

“Which means someone knew who I really was.”

Rebecca’s face went pale.

“And they killed him to get it.”

“No.”

“Then why?”

I stared through the windshield at the dark road ahead.

“They killed him to make me come home.”

The realization hit like a bullet.

Grandpa’s funeral wasn’t a trap.

It was bait.

And I had walked right into it.

“Claire,” Rebecca whispered.

“I know.”

“What do we do?”

I started the engine.

“We keep going.”

“But they’re waiting.”

“Then we don’t go the way they expect.”

I turned off the main road.

Onto a dirt track.

No headlights.

No GPS.

Just memory.

Grandpa had shown me this path once.

A shortcut to the lake.

Hidden.

Overgrown.

Forgotten.

The sedan bounced over roots and rocks.

Rebecca held the door handle.

Branches scraped the paint.

But we kept moving.

Twenty minutes later, the lake appeared.

Dark water.

Silent trees.

And the old oak tree.

Its trunk marked with initials.

C.W. + E.W.

Carved twenty years ago.

I stopped the car.

Killed the engine.

“We walk from here.”

We stepped out.

The air was cold.

Smelled like pine and damp earth.

No lights.

No sounds.

Just the lake breathing.

I approached the oak tree.

Kneeled.

My fingers found the loose soil.

I dug.

Rebecca knelt beside me.

Her hands joined mine.

We dug together.

Dirt under our nails.

Sweat on our brows.

Then my fingers hit metal.

A small box.

Rusted.

Locked.

I pulled it out.

The lock was old.

A combination.

I tried Grandpa’s service number.

Nothing.

His birthday.

Nothing.

Rebecca touched my arm.

“Try the date of that fishing trip.”

I did.

The lock clicked open.

Inside was a single envelope.

Thick.

Sealed with wax.

And a smaller USB drive.

No tracker this time.

I opened the envelope.

Dozens of names.

Dates.

Operations.

Unit 7.

Project Valkyrie.

And at the bottom, handwritten.

*Claire, if you’re reading this, you already know the truth.*

*I didn’t find this list.*

*I was on it.*

My hands stopped.

“What does it say?” Rebecca asked.

I couldn’t speak.

Because at the top of the list, beneath the title *PROJECT VALKYRIE – ORIGINAL MEMBERS*, was a name I recognized.

Not Grandpa’s.

Mine.

*Commander Claire Whitmore*

I had never seen that file.

I had never been part of that project.

But someone had put my name there.

And Grandpa had spent his final days trying to clear it.

“He was trying to protect me,” I whispered.

“From what?”

“From myself.”

Rebecca looked at the list.

Then at me.

“Claire, what did you do?”

I stared at my name.

At the black ink.

At the truth I didn’t understand.

“I don’t know.”

But the lake was silent.

And somewhere in the darkness, someone was watching.

Waiting.

Because the list wasn’t the end.

It was the beginning.

And the next move was mine.