The compound had survived purges before.
What it had never survived was certainty.
Cassian felt it the moment he woke—an absence of tension where it should have been thickest. The kind of quiet that followed storms, not preceded them.
He sat up slowly, hand already near the weapon beneath the mattress.
Nothing.
No alarms. No shouts. No gunfire.
Which meant Hale hadn't come crashing through the gates.
He had slipped inside something softer.
Cassian dressed quickly and stepped into the corridor.
The lights were on.
Too bright.
Protocol dictated dim lighting between 02:00 and 05:00—visibility without comfort. Someone had overridden it.
"Control," Cassian murmured into his earpiece. "Status check."
Static.
He stopped walking.
"Control," he repeated, louder.
Nothing.
Cassian turned back toward Anabeth's room—and froze.
Her door was open.
Not broken.
Open.
Cassian moved fast.
Anabeth was awake.
She sat on the edge of the bed, phone in her hand, face pale but controlled. She looked up when Cassian entered.
"You should see this," she said.
He crossed the room in two strides.
On her screen was a video.
Timestamped fifteen minutes earlier.
It showed the compound—this compound—from above. Clean drone footage. Smooth angles. Security blind spots highlighted in red.
Then text appeared.
YOU CLOSED THE DOOR AFTER I WALKED IN.
Cassian's blood ran cold.
"This was sent to you?" he asked.
She nodded. "And to Rafael. Simultaneously."
As if summoned, Rafael entered the room, expression carved from stone.
"He's not attacking," Rafael said quietly. "He's demonstrating."
Cassian clenched his jaw. "He's inside our systems."
"And our heads," Anabeth added.
Rafael looked at her sharply. "Did he contact you directly?"
She hesitated—then nodded.
"A message," she said. "Not a threat. An invitation."
Cassian's voice dropped. "To what?"
"To understand him," she replied.
Rafael's hand curled into a fist. "That ends now."
"No," Anabeth said calmly. "That's exactly what he wants."
Silence pressed in.
Cassian broke it. "He took control of internal comms without triggering alarms. That means someone planted an access relay we didn't find."
Rafael's eyes darkened. "Elias didn't act alone."
"No," Cassian agreed. "And Hale just told us how many steps ahead he still is."
The first casualty wasn't a person.
It was trust.
As the compound woke fully, confusion rippled through the ranks. Communications were rerouted. Internal messages delayed. Surveillance feeds looped randomly.
No single failure.
Death by a thousand paper cuts.
Cassian moved through it all like a scalpel, issuing orders quietly, watching reactions. Some people were afraid.
Others were angry.
Anger was easier to control.
Fear spread.
At 07:42, the next message arrived.
This time, public.
News outlets across the city received anonymous files—partial, fragmented, but enough.
Images of the compound's perimeter.
Blurry but recognizable.
Speculation ignited instantly.
UNKNOWN PRIVATE MILITIA?
SECRET COMPOUND LINKED TO CAMPUS INCIDENT?
Rafael watched the headlines scroll across the screen, jaw tight.
"He's forcing exposure," Cassian said. "Layer by layer."
"And pushing authorities closer," Rafael replied.
"Yes," Cassian said. "He's compressing your timeline."
Rafael turned to Anabeth. "This is because of you."
She didn't flinch. "No. This is because he can't control you."
That stopped him.
Cassian watched the exchange carefully.
This was the fracture Hale wanted.
Not between Rafael and Anabeth.
Between Rafael and his instincts.
At midday, Hale made his boldest move yet.
The power went out.
Not completely.
Selective blackout.
Emergency lights flickered on as generators kicked in—but only in half the compound.
The rest was swallowed by darkness.
Cassian's voice cut through the chaos. "Lock all internal doors. Manual overrides only."
Too late.
A single shot echoed from the west wing.
Then another.
Cassian sprinted.
Not toward the gunfire.
Toward Anabeth.
He found her in the stairwell, pressed against the wall, breathing steady despite the darkness.
"I knew he'd try this," she said quietly.
Cassian checked her quickly. "Are you hurt?"
"No," she said. "But he wants you divided."
"I know," Cassian replied.
A scream echoed somewhere distant.
Rafael's voice came through Cassian's earpiece, strained. "They're inside."
"Not physically," Cassian said. "Psychologically."
As if to prove him right, the lights surged back on.
No bodies.
No attackers.
Only one man on the floor near the west wing—alive, shaking.
A junior guard.
Hands empty.
Eyes wild.
"He made me do it," the guard whispered. "He said if I didn't fire, he'd send the video."
Rafael stared at him. "What video?"
The guard swallowed. "My sister."
Cassian closed his eyes briefly.
Hale wasn't infiltrating loyalty.
He was exploiting love.
That evening, the final message arrived.
This one addressed to Rafael alone—but Cassian and Anabeth stood with him as he opened it.
Audio only.
Hale's voice was calm. Educated. Almost warm.
"You built walls and called them order," Hale said. "I built understanding and called it inevitability."
A pause.
"You think purging traitors cleanses you. It doesn't. It just tells me which nerves still respond to pressure."
Another pause.
"End this now. Step away. Let the world forget your name."
"And if I don't?" Rafael asked aloud, though Hale couldn't hear him.
Hale answered anyway.
"Then I'll keep teaching your people that loyalty is a liability."
The message ended.
Silence followed.
Cassian broke it. "He's not trying to kill you."
"No," Rafael said softly. "He's trying to hollow me out."
Anabeth stepped closer to Rafael. "Then stop letting him decide the terms."
Rafael looked at her. "He's willing to burn everything."
"So are you," she replied. "You just don't admit it."
Cassian watched the moment shift.
Rafael straightened slowly.
"You're right," he said. "I've been reacting."
He turned to Cassian. "That ends now."
Cassian nodded. "Good. Because I've already found his next move."
Rafael's eyes sharpened. "Where?"
Cassian smiled grimly. "He's going to force you into the open."
"And how?" Anabeth asked.
"By putting a face to the fear," Cassian replied. "A public one."
Rafael understood instantly.
"He's coming for her reputation," Rafael said.
"Yes," Cassian confirmed. "And if we let him—he controls the narrative."
Anabeth lifted her chin. "Then we don't let him."
Rafael looked at her. "This will be ugly."
She met his gaze steadily. "So was the campus."
A beat.
Then Rafael said, "Prepare everything."
Cassian nodded. "Finally."
Outside, the city buzzed, unaware of how close it was to the truth.
Hale had proven one thing:
There was no such thing as a safe room anymore.
Only choices.
And the next one—
Would decide who owned the daylight.