The safe house had returned to a hushed state, but not in a reassuring manner. It was the type of stillness that followed a bomb disarmament, where everyone was left grappling with the realization of how narrowly they had escaped death.
Sienna was seated at the weathered wooden table, fixated on the flash drive Anya had discovered on Ethan. It lay there like a c****d weapon—small and unremarkable, yet burdened with the significance of something immense. Something unresolved.
Jack sat opposite her, raking his hand through his hair, his jaw clenched. Lulu leaned against the doorframe, her rifle always within reach. Anya was already engrossed in her laptop, her fingers moving swiftly over the keyboard.
“Are you certain it’s not merely another copy of the original file?” Jack inquired.
Any
