The Safehouse had never felt smaller
The discovery of the forest compound had drawn a line in the sand. Everyone in the room felt it,there was no going back. Ethan stood at the window, staring out at the damp Brinlake skyline, his fingers twitching. Somewhere out there, beyond the fog and flickering city lights, something waited. And it had his name in its mouth.
"We leave at dawn," Harper said behind him. "Too dangerous to move now. Caligo's eyes are everywhere."
Ethan nodded but didn't turn. "It's not just Caligo anymore. That thing in the vents,it wasn't natural."
Maxwell scoffed. "Genetic splicing? Behavioral conditioning? Wouldn't put it past them."
"No," Ethan murmured. "It felt… programmed. Like it wasn't born, just made."
Harper didn't respond. Neither did Liam.
Instead, the room fell into a silent, collective anxiety. Preparations moved in hushed tones: weapons checked, data backups synced, escape routes mapped. Every member of the team wore the same expression,tight-lipped, hollow-eyed, and waiting for the floor beneath them to crack.
Ethan left the others and stepped outside for air. The rain had stopped, but the streets glistened under the dim glow of a broken lamppost. Brinlake never slept, but parts of it pretended. This alley was one of them.
He lit a cigarette and inhaled slowly, letting the burn anchor him. In his pocket, the relay node's shattered casing was a silent reminder of how deep they were. This wasn't just corruption or control anymore. It was evolution by force. And Caligo was playing god.
A sound made him freeze.
A footstep, light and deliberate.
Ethan turned, hand already at his sidearm.
But it wasn't Caligo.
It was her.
The girl from the alley,the one with the raincoat and silence and those eyes that seemed to look through skin and bone. She stood there, calm, her head tilted just slightly, as if observing him like a specimen.
"You again," Ethan muttered, unsure if it was relief or dread in his voice.
She didn't reply. Just walked slowly closer, her boots barely making a sound.
Ethan studied her. Same soaked coat. Same pale skin. Same emotionless stare.
"You followed me," he said. "Back then. In the rain. Why?"
Still, nothing.
But then she extended her hand,small, delicate, smeared with dried blood he hadn't noticed until now.
There was something in her palm.
A folded piece of paper.
He took it, hesitantly, and unfolded it.
A hand-drawn map. Rough, childlike, but unmistakable.
It was the compound.
The same compound Liam had just found through the relay trace.
"How...?" Ethan started.
But when he looked up, she was already walking away, back into the fog.
He didn't follow her. He couldn't.
Back inside, he slammed the door behind him and tossed the paper on the table.
"She gave this to me," he said.
Maxwell picked it up. "Who?"
"That girl. The one I saw at the alley before all this began. She followed me here."
Liam's brow furrowed. "What girl?"
"I don't know," Ethan said. "But she's not just anyone. She knew about the compound. Had a map of it. And she moves like… like someone who doesn't belong here."
Harper reached for the map. "She say anything?"
"Not a word. Never does."
"That's a risk," Maxwell muttered. "You sure she's not bait?"
"I'm not sure of anything," Ethan said. "But we don't ignore leads. Not anymore."
Liam cross-referenced the sketch with the satellite feed. "The coordinates match. The compound she drew—it's the same. Only hers has markings. Entry points. Patrol paths. Looks like someone who's been inside."
That silenced the room.
Harper finally spoke. "Then we go. First light."
Ethan nodded. "And if she shows up again…"
"We follow," Harper finished.
Dawn was grey and lifeless.
The van rumbled out of the safehouse parking structure, city lights fading behind them. Ahead, the road wound toward the forest like a noose tightening. Liam sat up front, scanning radio chatter. Harper drove, hands steady. Maxwell loaded clips in the back.
Ethan stared at the map again.
Three entry points. Guard rotations every forty-five minutes. A blind spot near the western fence.
"She gave us this for a reason," he murmured.
"What if it's a trap?" Maxwell asked.
"Then we walk into it with our eyes open."
The van left the main highway behind. Pavement gave way to gravel, then dirt. Trees closed in on either side, tall and skeletal. The kind of place where screams go to die.
Liam raised his hand. "Half a klick. Cameras ahead."
Harper killed the lights. They rolled to a stop behind a thicket of underbrush.
They moved out on foot.
The woods were too quiet. Not a single birdcall, no rustling,just the crunch of boots and the distant hum of electricity.
Then Ethan saw it.
The fence.
High. Barbed. New.
Beyond it, floodlights cast sterile beams across razor-wire paths. Cameras rotated like watchful eyes.
He turned to Harper. "We go through the blind spot."
They crept along the perimeter. Time ticked with each breath.
Then...
A movement in the trees.
Ethan froze.
There she was again.
The girl.
Standing behind the fence this time, on the inside.
She raised one hand.
And pointed.
To a section of the wall,just ahead.
Ethan ran.
When he got there, he saw it: a maintenance grate, rusted at the hinges, just big enough to crawl through. The patrol was minutes away.
He turned back,but she was gone.
Harper appeared beside him. "What is it?"
He pointed. "Our way in."
They slipped inside just as the lights swept past the trees.
Unseen.
For now.