Behind Closed Doors

Sounds in the Dark

The rain had started to fall by the time Margo reached her apartment. Thin, drops of water tapping on the rooftop in an peculiar rhythm . The city below turned into touches of amber and gray, its lights moved across the wet windowpane like a memory she was trying to forget. She stood there for a moment, soaked and silent, her fingers still shaking around the flash drive still warm from the mission. It wasn’t just data. It was a loaded gun aimed at the heart of something big—and deeply personal.

She took off her clothes piece by piece, each layer feeling heavier than the last. Her muscles ached from the operation, but her mind wouldn’t stop racing. The name on the encrypted file still sounded in her head:

Custos Noctis.

The Guardian of the Night. A code name, certainly. But she knew better than to dismiss it as poetic nonsense. The syndicate’s puppet masters loved their melodrama. If the rumors were true, this “guardian” wasn’t protecting anything—except secrets that are very important.

Margo stepped into the shower, hoping the hot water might wash off the weight of what she’d just uncovered. It didn’t.

Hours later, the safehouse was dead silent except for the soft sounded of the servers. Margo sat dropping at the terminal, the glow of data dancing across her face. Every line of decrypted text revealed a new piece of the puzzle—illicit trade routes, laundering fronts disguised as charities, photos of officials shaking hands with men who didn’t exist on paper. She bit her lip as a familiar symbol came on the screen: a carved moon with a dagger through it.

She remembered it. It was drawn on the necklace Elise wore the night she vanished.

Her heart spiked. She leaned in.

A corrupted video file loading. Un cleaer, half-erased, but unmistakable. Elise was sitting across a table from someone with their face hidden . Her voice was faint but clear.

“They know I’ve seen the list. If I disappear, make sure she finds this. She won’t stop. I know her. She’ll burn them to the ground.”

Then suddenly.

Margo didn’t realize she was crying until a drop landed on the keyboard.

By noon the next day, the clouds had covered over the city. Margo was back in the field, this time without backup. She couldn’t risk involving the agency—not until she knew who she could trust.

Her contact was a hacker turned bar tender who owed her a favour. Leo “Switch” DaCosta ran an underground club called “The hidden Gem” beneath the city’s oldest cathedral. A perfect place to hide .

The bass from the music above shook the floor as Switch handed her a burner phone and an envelope.

“You sure about this?” he asked. “You’re not exactly poking at a sleeping dog. More like walking into its open jaws.”

“I need names. And locations. Anything tied to Custos Noctis,” she said, pocketing the phone. “And Switch… if you disappear before I get back, I’ll come find you.” so don't go running.

He gave her a crooked grin. “That’s the hottest threat I’ve heard all month.”

Inside the envelope was a single keycard and a handwritten address: The Vesper Hotel. Luxurious. Discreet. famous for one thing: no cameras, no questions.

Perfect for deals made in secret..

She arrived just after dusk, dressed not in tactical gear but a midnight-blue gown that held on to every curve like it had been tailored to seduce. The woman in the mirror wasn’t the soldier. She was something else entirely—smoke and fire in the shape of danger. Margo could be anything. Tonight, she had to be irresistible.

The guides didn't blink when she asked for the private elevator. The card slipped smoothly through the reader, and the doors opened with a soft chime.

Room 1109. The suite was massive—floor-to-ceiling windows, deepey furniture, the scent of rosewood and alcohol hanging in the air. A man waited for her inside, pouring two glasses from a crystal Glass.

He turned as she entered.

“Agent Marlowe,” he said, using the alias she’d dropped years ago.

Margo didn’t flinch. “I go by Margo now.”

“You always had a taste for reinvention.” His smile was slow and deliberate. “You look just like her, you know.”

Margo’s hand twitched toward the knife hidden beneath her thigh. “Mention my sister again, and I’ll put this glass through your eye.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender.

“I come bringing information. Custos Noctis isn’t a man. It’s a title. A rotating mantle passed down through the ranks. Whoever holds it controls the entire operation. Finance, enforcement, propaganda… even law enforcement cells.”

Margo leaned against the wall, watching him carefully. “And you? What’s your part in this?”

“I keep the game interesting,” he said. “But tonight, I’m betting on my wild card.”

He slid a small record across the table. Inside where, photographs, bank records, coded folders. One face circled in red—Senator Henry Valemont. A philanthropist by day. A ghost by night.

“I know that name,” she whispered. “He was Elise’s sponsor during the charity invent . He helped her fund her clinic.”

“And he helped her disappear,” the man said.

The air in the suite thickened.

“What do you want in exchange?” Margo asked finally.

He smiled. “When the time comes, you’ll owe me one favour. No questions. No refusals.”

Margo met his gaze and saw the devil behind his eyes. Then she took the file.

That night, Margo sat alone at a rooftop bar near Valemont’s estate, the city moving out below like a living map of the corruption she was about to expose. Her thoughts drifted to Elise again—her laughter, her defiance, the comfort in her touch.

She missed her more with every truth uncovered.

Margo lit a cigarette with hands that didn’t shake. Every move she made now would take her deeper into the game—no more sidelines. No more waiting.

She was going to hunt the wolves that fed on the weak.

One name at a time.