Beneath the Mask
1301 Words
CHAPTER FOUR: Beneath the Mask
The bullet holes in the glass were patched by sunrise, but the scars left behind didn’t fade so easily.
Ember sat on the edge of a black leather couch in a secure suite deep inside Cortez Tower, wrapped in one of Vaughn’s oversized sweaters, her fingers trembling around a mug of untouched coffee. Vaughn’s men had swept the building, reinforced the perimeter, and tripled security protocols. But none of that erased the fact that someone had tried to kill her.
Vaughn stood by the window—now bulletproof—his silhouette lit in amber by the city lights beyond. He hadn’t spoken in minutes. Not since barking orders into a burner phone and silencing every trace of the sniper attack.
He wasn’t just protecting her. He was cleaning up a war zone.
“You knew this was coming,” Ember said finally.
He didn’t turn.
“I suspected. Not this fast. Not this loud.”
Ember’s voice trembled, a bitter edge lacing her words. “You should’ve warned me.”
“I did.”
“No, you dragged me into this. Fed me crumbs. Let me wander into a sniper’s crosshairs without telling me why any of this is happening.”
Now he turned.
His eyes—ice cold, controlled—held something darker beneath the surface. Guilt? Anger? Ember couldn’t tell.
“I told you the truth,” he said. “Just not all of it.”
“That’s not the same.”
“No, it’s not. But it’s all you were ready for.”
She stood up, closing the distance between them. “Try me.”
He didn’t flinch. “Your father died because he got too close to a classified operation that hadn’t existed on paper for more than two decades. It started before you were born. It ends with you.”
The words chilled her.
“What was he looking for?”
“Leverage. Exposure. Maybe redemption. Richard Hall uncovered the skeletons we buried years ago. And he died because he wasn’t the only one digging.”
“And you?” she asked, voice low. “What’s buried in your past?”
His jaw ticked. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then:
“I was an asset. Contracted by a sub-agency called Polaris. They handled off-book operations: economic destabilization, arms rerouting, political puppeteering. All invisible. All deniable. Falcon was one of their nests.”
“Nest?”
“Think of it like a black site—but digital. Falcon built data webs, traced financial corruption, monitored foreign agents. But it got twisted. Someone weaponized it.”
Ember’s mind reeled. “And now?”
“Now,” he said grimly, “it’s coming undone. And whoever’s behind it is killing to keep it buried.”
He stepped closer.
“You have two options, Ember. Go back to pretending your life is ordinary. Or stay here—under my protection—and help me dismantle what your father died exposing.”
She searched his face. There was no charm now. No mask. Just a man used to war, asking her to join the battlefield.
She didn’t hesitate.
“Fine,” she said. “But don’t ever lie to me again.”
Later that night, Ember lay in the guest room of Vaughn’s suite, wrapped in silence.
Sleep wouldn’t come.
So she did what she always did—she hunted for the truth.
She retrieved her laptop from her bag, along with the old USB drive her father had hidden inside the lining of her coat. The same drive she’d nearly thrown away months ago, not realizing what it held.
It had no label. Just a tiny engraving on the metal case: “TRUTH > FEAR.”
Her father’s motto.
She plugged it in.
The files were protected—layers of encryption, ghost keys, and backdoor access only someone trained by Richard Hall would even think to attempt.
Luckily, she was his daughter.
It took hours, but she finally cracked the first lock.
The drive opened.
Inside: a folder named “DOLLHOUSE.”
Her heart pounded as she clicked it open.
Scans of files—dossiers. Financial reports. Surveillance images.
And at the center of it all: a list of names.
Some crossed out.
Some circled.
But one name caught her breath:
Santiago Ryker.
She didn’t recognize it—but next to it was a note in her father’s handwriting:
“The leak is inside. Not just watching… pulling strings.”
She copied the folder onto her hard drive and encrypted it again under a new name.
If Ryker was a leak inside Falcon—or Polaris—he might be closer than anyone realized.
And Vaughn needed to know.
She got up to find him—only to stop short outside the hallway.
The door to Vaughn’s office was ajar.
And voices echoed from inside.
One male. One female.
She stepped closer.
The woman was unfamiliar—elegant, clipped British accent, low and dangerous.
“You can’t protect her forever,” the woman said. “She’s a liability.”
“She’s a witness,” Vaughn replied coolly. “And a target. That makes her our best lead.”
“She’s emotional. Impulsive.”
“She’s also smarter than half our analysts. And she has access to things we don’t.”
“Ryker will find her.”
“Let him try.”
Silence.
Then the woman’s voice dropped into a hiss. “You still care about her father.”
“I owed him,” Vaughn said. “That debt hasn’t been paid.”
“And if she finds out what you did in Belarus?”
Silence.
Ember’s stomach twisted.
What had he done?
The next morning, Ember confronted Vaughn.
“I heard your conversation.”
He didn’t deny it.
“She was right,” Ember said. “I am emotional. And if you’re hiding something—if you had any part in what happened to my father—I swear—”
“I didn’t kill him,” Vaughn said evenly. “But I may have led him to the door that did.”
“What happened in Belarus?”
Vaughn’s gaze was steel. “That file isn’t open yet. Not to you.”
“Then how can I trust you?”
“You don’t,” he said. “But trust isn’t what keeps you alive. Knowledge does.”
He handed her a new file.
Encrypted with her name.
“This came from a contact in Paris,” he said. “It confirms that Ryker was active last year… inside my own security team.”
Ember’s blood ran cold. “You had a mole.”
He nodded. “One we never found.”
“But he’s still in your system.”
“We think so.”
“Then you’re not the only one who’s compromised,” she whispered.
He met her eyes. “No. You are too.”
That night, Ember decided to access one final file on her father’s drive. The deepest lock. The one even she had hesitated to touch.
It took everything she had to break the code.
When the screen opened—her world shattered.
There, in a live-feed window, was Jenna.
Alive.
Held in what looked like a storage room.
Crying.
And beside her—leaning casually against the wall—was Santiago Ryker.
Alive. Smiling.
Looking directly into the camera.
And then—
He raised a phone. Dialed a number.
Ember’s phone rang.
Unknown Number.
She answered with shaking fingers.
“Hello, Ember,” Ryker said, voice smooth like silk. “Now that I have your cousin, shall we talk?”
Jenna is alive—but a prisoner of Santiago Ryker. And now he wants something from Ember. The hunt becomes personal—and more dangerous than ever.
- Writer
