The engine hummed as Sarah took a hard left, the city lights flickering across the windshield.
Jack’s mind was a storm.
Vincent. Alive. Back. And worse—twisted.
“He had footage,” Jack muttered. “He’s been watching us for months. Maybe longer.”
Sarah’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “He’s not just watching. He’s building a narrative.”
Jack exhaled sharply. “He wants to make me the villain.”
Sarah glanced at him. “Then we show them who the real one is.”
They didn’t go home. They went underground instead.
A vault Sarah once helped an anonymous hacker group build beneath an old train station—forgotten, secure, and lined with enough tech to fake a moon landing.
By 2 AM., every screen in the bunker glowed with files, videos, emails. Sarah’s fingers flew over the keyboard, pull
