The Hunt for Cross
1768 Words
The Verance skyline was a jagged silhouette against the pre-dawn gray.
Slade stood on the rooftop of the headquarters, the cold wind whipping across his face. Sleep had been impossible. Cross was out there—alive, wounded, but still dangerous. The man who had been pulling strings from the shadows for years had finally shown his hand, and Slade had let him slip through his fingers.
The door behind him opened. Ember stepped out, a steaming mug of coffee in each hand. She walked over and handed him one.
"You've been up all night," she said.
"I couldn't sleep."
"Thinking about Cross?"
"Always." He took a sip of the coffee. It was bitter, hot, grounding. "He's out there. He's hurt, but he's not broken. He's going to try again."
"Then we'll be ready for him."
Slade shook his head. "That's the problem. We're always reacting. He's always one step ahead. We need to change that. We need to go on the offensive."
"And how do we do that?"
"By finding him before he finds us."
---
The strategy session took place in the main room, the team gathered around the central table.
Lyric had been working through the night, analyzing the data from the Grid's bunker. Cross's communications. His financial movements. His patterns.
"I've identified three possible locations," she said, pulling up a map on the main screen. "Safe houses Cross has used in the past. One in Prague. One in Istanbul. One in Buenos Aires."
Slade studied the map. "Which one is most likely?"
"Prague. He's been there multiple times. He has contacts there. Resources. He's comfortable there."
"Then we start with Prague."
Kane stepped forward. "We don't have enough intel to launch an assault. We need to scout the location first."
"Then we scout it."
Sloane nodded. "I can go in. I know the city. I know the networks. I can find out if Cross is there without alerting him."
"Do it. Take Lyric with you. She can monitor communications."
---
The flight to Prague took four hours.
Sloane and Lyric moved through the city's cobblestone streets, their faces hidden beneath hoods. The safe house was in the old town, a nondescript building tucked between a bakery and a bookshop.
Lyric set up her equipment in a nearby cafe, her laptop hidden beneath a scarf. "I'm reading the building's energy signature. There's activity inside. At least three people."
Sloane studied the building through a pair of binoculars. "I see movement in the third-floor window. A man. Tall. Gray hair."
"Cross?"
"Can't confirm. But he fits the description."
Sloane moved closer, her footsteps silent on the cobblestones. She found a side entrance—a narrow alley that led to the building's rear. The door was locked, but she worked the lock with practiced ease.
The interior was dim, lit by a single bulb in the hallway. Sloane moved up the stairs, her weapon drawn.
She reached the third floor. The door was ajar. Voices drifted out.
"I'm telling you, the Grid is gone. We need to find another way."
"We will. We just need time."
Sloane pushed open the door.
Cross was inside, his back to her. Two guards flanked him. They turned as Sloane entered, their weapons raised.
Sloane fired. The guards dropped before they could react.
Cross spun around, his face a mask of fury. "You."
"It's over, Cross."
"You think you can stop me? You have no idea what I'm capable of."
"I know you're outnumbered. Outgunned. And trapped."
Cross smiled. "I'm never trapped."
He pressed a button on his wrist. The building shook. Alarms blared.
Sloane dove for cover as the floor collapsed beneath her.
---
The explosion rocked the old town.
Slade received the news as the helicopter touched down on the outskirts of the city. He ran through the streets, his team following.
The safe house was a pile of rubble. Firefighters were already on the scene, their hoses trained on the flames.
"Where are they?" Slade shouted.
Kane pointed to a side street. "Sloane and Lyric. They got out. But Cross is gone."
Slade found them in a narrow alley, their faces covered in soot. Sloane was nursing a wounded arm. Lyric was on her laptop, her fingers flying.
"Cross escaped," Sloane said. "He had a backup. A tunnel. He's gone."
Lyric looked up. "I've got him. His vehicle. It's heading toward the airport."
Slade's jaw tightened. "Then we're not letting him get on that plane."
---
The chase cut through Prague's streets, weaving through traffic, dodging pedestrians.
Slade drove the SUV, his eyes fixed on the tracker. Cross's vehicle was just ahead, weaving through the narrow streets. A private jet was waiting at the airport's private terminal.
Cross's car swerved into the airport's service entrance. Slade followed, his vehicle screeching around the corner.
Cross was running across the tarmac, his guards flanking him. The private jet's engines were already spinning.
Slade jumped out of the SUV and sprinted across the tarmac. He fired, the bullets striking the guards. They crumpled.
Cross reached the plane. He climbed the stairs, his hand reaching for the door.
Slade was faster. He tackled Cross, sending them both tumbling onto the tarmac.
"Get off me!" Cross screamed.
"Not a chance."
Slade pinned him, his fist connecting with Cross's jaw. The man's head snapped back, but he didn't stop fighting. He pulled a knife from his belt, slashing wildly.
Slade dodged, the blade grazing his arm. He grabbed Cross's wrist and twisted. The knife clattered to the ground.
"It's over," Slade said.
Cross's face was twisted with rage. "You think you've won? You've destroyed everything I built. The Society. The Inheritors. The Congregation. The Council. The Circle. The Grid. You've torn it all down."
"Because it needed to be torn down."
"Chaos! That's all you've left behind. Without the labyrinth, the world will collapse. Wars. Famine. Anarchy. You've doomed billions."
"Then we'll rebuild. The right way."
Cross laughed. A bitter, hollow sound. "You're a fool. Your father was a fool. Your grandfather was a fool. The Crowe legacy is a legacy of failure."
"Maybe. But I'm still standing."
Slade pulled Cross to his feet.
"Where's your network?" Slade asked. "The remaining operatives. The safe houses. The resources. Tell me, and I'll make sure you survive this."
Cross's eyes narrowed. "You want information?"
"I want everything."
Cross was silent for a long moment. Then he spoke. "There's a safe house in Istanbul. That's where the remnants are gathering. They're planning a counterattack."
"Who's leading them?"
"I don't know. A woman. She calls herself the Raven."
Slade's blood ran cold. "Raven is with us."
Cross smiled. "The Raven you know is a decoy. The real Raven is someone else. Someone who's been watching you from the beginning."
---
The flight to Verance was long and tense.
Cross was in a holding cell in the back of the plane, his hands cuffed, his face bruised. Slade sat in the front, his mind churning.
The real Raven. Another decoy. Another layer of the labyrinth.
Ember sat beside him. "You're thinking about Raven."
"Always. If she's not who she says she is, then everything she's told us could be a lie."
"Or she could be telling the truth about some things and lying about others."
Slade nodded slowly. "We need to find out."
---
The headquarters was quiet when they returned.
Slade walked through the main room, his team following. Raven was at her workstation, her eyes fixed on the monitors.
"Raven," Slade said. "We need to talk."
She looked up. "What happened?"
"Cross is in custody. He told us something interesting. He said you're not the real Raven. He said the real Raven is someone else. Someone who's been watching us from the beginning."
Raven's face went pale. "That's a lie."
"Is it?"
She stood up, her eyes blazing. "I've been with you from the beginning. I've helped you. I've fought beside you. I've given you everything I had."
"And I'm grateful. But I need to know the truth."
Raven was silent for a long moment. Then she nodded slowly.
"Cross is right. I'm not the Raven. The real Raven was my mentor. She trained me. She taught me everything I know. And then she died. I took her name. I took her identity. I took her mission."
"Why?"
"Because I believed in what she was doing. I believed in fighting the labyrinth. And I knew that with her name, I could rally others to the cause."
Slade studied her. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't trust you. Not at first. And then... I was afraid. Afraid you'd see me as a fraud. Afraid you'd turn on me."
Slade was silent for a long moment. Then he spoke.
"Your name isn't important. What's important is what you've done. You've fought beside us. You've bled beside us. You're one of us."
Raven's eyes glistened. "Thank you."
---
The interrogation of Cross took place in the holding cell.
Slade stood across from him, his arms crossed. Cross was bound to the chair, his face defiant.
"The real Raven," Slade said. "Where is she?"
Cross laughed. "You'll never find her. She's been hiding for decades. She's a ghost."
"I know a way to find ghosts."
Cross's eyes narrowed. "You're bluffing."
"Try me."
Cross was silent for a long moment. Then he spoke. "She's in Istanbul. The safe house. She's the one who's been planning the counterattack."
Slade turned to leave.
"Wait," Cross said. "There's something else."
"What?"
"The woman you killed in London. Sera. She wasn't just a member of the Council. She was the real Raven's daughter."
Slade froze.
"That's why the real Raven has been hunting you," Cross said. "Because you killed her daughter. And she's going to make you pay."
---
Slade walked out of the cell, his mind reeling.
The real Raven. Sera's mother. A woman who had been hiding for decades. A woman who was now hunting him.
Ember approached him. "What did he tell you?"
"The real Raven is in Istanbul. She's planning a counterattack. And she's the mother of the woman I killed in London."
Ember's face went pale. "She's going to come for you."
"I know."
"So we find her first. We stop her before she can."
Slade nodded slowly.
"Istanbul," he said. "That's where we're going."
His phone buzzed.
**Unknown:** You killed my daughter. Now I'm going to kill everything you love.
**Unknown:** The Ascension is coming, Slade. And this time, there's no stopping it.
Slade stared at the screen.
The war had just gotten personal.
And the labyrinth was waiting.
- Writer
