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The morning sun was shining in its full brilliance, casting golden rays through the windows. Greyson stood in his bedroom, in front of the tall wall-mounted mirror, fixing his tie. He was getting ready to head to the agency.12Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3DTbsXibyV
The brutal murder of Augustus West had deeply disturbed his mind. Augustus wasn't just one of the agency’s finest agents—he had also been a close friend of Greyson’s late father. Though retired due to old age, Augustus still remained connected to the agency, being privy to many of its critical secrets.
Greyson strongly believed that someone had first tried to pressure Augustus into revealing confidential information… and when that failed, they had him killed.12Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkUUbPxVl5B
But the truth—whatever it really was—remained just out of reach.12Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAbVdc8UlrE
And that very uncertainty was eating away at him, stirring a storm of anger and frustration within.
Greyson stepped out of his house in a crisp black suit, his expression unreadable and his mind clouded with the chaos of unanswered questions. The sleek black car waiting at the curb purred softly as the driver opened the door. Without a word, Greyson slid inside, and the car quietly took off through the city’s early morning silence.
As the vehicle approached the headquarters of the Omega Taskforce (OTF), the agency’s imposing architecture came into view—an austere, towering structure wrapped in dark glass and brushed steel. The name OMEGA TASKFORCE (OTF) gleamed in bold silver letters near the entrance. It was a fortress of secrets, built not just to protect—but to hunt.
The car pulled into the underground lot. Greyson stepped out, adjusted his tie, and without acknowledging the agents who nodded respectfully, headed for the elevator.
The top floor opened into a high-security command centre: glass walls, digital screens pulsing with satellite imagery and encrypted feeds, agents working quietly under pressure. But as soon as Greyson entered, the atmosphere shifted—conversations dulled, eyes flicked toward him, and a silent discipline settled over the room.
He walked straight into his private office, powered on his system, and with practiced precision, opened a secure file.
His voice was calm but clipped as he spoke into the intercom:12Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡG6pxo34BAn
“Pull up the surveillance logs for the past thirty days. I want all unauthorized access flagged. Trace Augustus West’s call history—every contact, every minute. I want a full report on my desk within the hour.”
His gaze locked on the screen in front of him, sharp and relentless.12Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWA6u69sza1
Someone had murdered Augustus West. And buried somewhere in that data… was the first breadcrumb.
And Greyson intended to follow it to the end.
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A soft knock interrupted the charged silence of Greyson’s office.
“Come in,” he said without looking up.
A junior agent stepped inside, holding a thin tablet in his hand. “Sir, initial scans of the surveillance logs have flagged two anomalies—one breach in the comms database two weeks ago, and another in the restricted archives just forty-eight hours before Augustus West was killed.”
Greyson's head slowly lifted, his eyes narrowing. “Who had clearance?”
The agent hesitated. “That’s the problem, sir. The clearance used… was yours.”
The room fell into a deathly stillness. Greyson stood up slowly, the tension in his shoulders making the air feel heavier.
“That’s impossible,” he said, voice dangerously low. “I never accessed that archive. Find out who spoofed my credentials. I want a list of everyone who entered the building that night—and get the cyber forensics team on full lockdown protocol.”
“Yes, Director,” the agent replied and quickly left the room.
Greyson walked over to the tall windows of his office, staring out at the skyline, fists clenched at his sides.
This wasn’t just a breach. It was personal.
Someone had infiltrated the heart of Omega Taskforce… and tried to frame him in the process.
He turned back toward the files on his desk and tapped into Augustus’s personal encrypted folder—one only he had permission to access. Inside, he found a short, hastily recorded voice memo.
He hit play.
Augustus’s tired voice crackled through the speaker:12Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6zbvax0Yw8
"Greyson… if you're listening to this, something’s gone wrong. I found something… something buried deep. They’re watching everyone. Even you. Trust no one—not even those inside the OTF. And for God’s sake… find my granddaughter before they do."
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The sharp scent of antiseptic lingered in the air.
Lena’s eyes fluttered open slowly, the ceiling above her unfamiliar—plain white, trimmed with ornate molding. The last thing she remembered was pain… running… gunshots... and then—nothing.
Now she was lying in a warm, unfamiliar bed, covered by a soft blanket. Her body felt sore, her mouth dry. Panic rose like a tide inside her as the reality sank in—this wasn’t a hospital. And it definitely wasn’t safe.
Her heart began to race. She pushed herself up instinctively, but a searing pain tore through her leg.
Ah! she gasped, biting down hard on her lip to stop the cry.
She looked down to see her left thigh wrapped tightly in clean bandages. The pain was sharp and deep—clearly not just a scratch.
Where the hell am I?
The room around her was elegant but intimidating—dark wooden furniture, velvet curtains half-pulled across large windows, and soft golden light filtering in through the gaps. A chair sat beside the bed, slightly turned as if someone had been watching her.
Suddenly, she heard footsteps approaching.
They were steady. Controlled.
Her breath hitched. She had no idea who had brought her here, no memory of being rescued—if that’s what this even was.
Without wasting another second, Lena carefully laid back down, shut her eyes, and slowed her breathing.
If someone was coming… she needed to pretend she was still unconscious.
The footsteps paused outside the door. Then, a soft creak as the handle turned.
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