MIKE
We were now en route to the president’s safe house—a supposed undisclosed location nestled somewhere in the woods of West Virginia. It was going to be a three-hour ride, and the first half hour passed in relative silence. Everyone in the car was on edge, minds undoubtedly racing with thoughts of the mission ahead.
I sat in the passenger seat, Agent Alfred behind the wheel, laser-focused as always. Behind us, Bea was casually scrolling on her device while Agent Liam and Fredd kept eyes peeled on the perimeter.
Then something tugged at my instincts.
A black SUV—dark windows, low profile—had been behind us for a little too long. At first, I told myself it was nothing, but the way it mimicked our every turn, every change of speed… it didn’t sit right.
I leaned closer to Alfred.
"We’ve got a tail. Black SUV. Six o'clock."
Agent Bea immediately straightened and peeped through the back window, her expression sharpening.
"Confirmed. It’s been behind us since exit twenty-one."
Alfred didn’t say anything for a beat, his eyes flicking to the side mirror. Then he calmly replied,
“Alright. Let’s see if they’re serious.”
Without another word, he pressed down on the gas. The car surged forward, weaving slightly to test the SUV’s response. I gripped the door handle, watching the speedometer tick up. The black SUV stayed for another mile—then two. But when Alfred made a sudden, sharp turn off the main road onto a less-traveled path, we waited... and the SUV didn’t follow.
It was gone.
Bea exhaled beside me.
"Well... that’s either good news, or they’re smarter than we thought."
I kept my eyes on the rearview mirror just a second longer. My gut twisted.
"Or they already got what they needed."
No one responded to that. But the silence that followed spoke volumes.
The road ahead was quiet again. That SUV might have backed off, but it left a presence behind—something I couldn’t quite shake off. I kept replaying everything over and over in my head. The threats to the President, Siren’s cryptic words, Dereck’s last breath, the sniper bullet, Sian’s sudden switch… nothing about this felt random.
Agent Bea suddenly broke the silence from the backseat with a playful groan.
"Okay, why do you guys look like we’re heading to our execution? Seriously, can we break off from being this tense? Let’s at least talk like an actual team before we live under one roof."
She leaned forward, smirking between Alfred and me.
"The closer we are, the more effective we’ll be. Come on, loosen up."
Agent Alfred laughed, eyes still on the road.
"She’s got a point. Mike? You good back in your mind palace there?"
I didn’t answer. I heard him. I heard Bea too. But I wasn’t in the mood for jokes or fake cheer. I couldn’t laugh. Not when every instinct in me screamed that Siren was connected to this—and worse, that this might just be the beginning.
My eyes stayed fixed on the forested path ahead.
Then Alfred’s voice cut through my thoughts, this time more grounded.
"We’ve arrived."
Ahead of us, steel gates loomed—tall, fortified, and silent. As the car slowed, a blue scanner on the side flashed a beam of light across Alfred’s face. A second later, the gates clicked and rolled open with a quiet mechanical hum.
We drove through.
The compound was clean, modern, and fortified from all angles. A concrete sanctuary buried in wilderness.
As we stepped out of the car, a woman in a black suit with a clipboard approached us.
"Agents. This way, please."
She led us through the minimalist corridors—white walls, black tiles, surveillance in every corner. Each step felt heavier as we closed in on the core of it all. Then, we entered a room—wide, brightly lit, but plain. In the middle stood a man I’d only seen on giant podiums or television broadcasts. President Cyrus “Bobby” Ford turned toward us.
Calm. Direct. Watchful.
No greetings. No formalities.
President Ford stepped into the center of the room, tall and commanding as ever, but wasting no time. Without even a glance of introduction, he handed each of us a thick, sealed envelope. His voice was flat, businesslike.
"All the information you need is inside. If you have any questions, direct them to my chief of staff, Marvin."
He nodded toward a man in a crisp suit who was standing at the far corner of the room, arms loosely crossed. Marvin gave us a casual smile, too calm for what felt like the weight of a bomb being dropped in our laps.
Then, just like that, the President left the room.
The air shifted. I exchanged a brief glance with Alfred, who looked just as confused. Slowly, we opened the envelopes.
And my world tilted.
There—right at the top—was her.
Siren.
Her face stared back at me from the paper, like a ghost pulled from the shadows. She looked the same—cold eyes, unreadable expression. But this time, it wasn’t a mysterious operative, or an encrypted file. This was a full dossier. Real. Tangible. Unforgiving.
The first line on the page:
Leader of the SIRENS Organization. Status: High Risk. International Target.
As I flipped through the pages, my pulse picked up. There were images of her team too—blurred captures, satellite photos, enhanced facial profiles. Whoever had put this together had gone to terrifying lengths.
But the part that got me? Her name. Or rather, the absence of it.
There was no name.
Just blank space.
And when I glanced up, Marvin had already stepped forward. His voice calm but edged with warning.
"The President has spent years collecting fragments—photos, intercepted comms, partial prints. Everything you see here is the result of that."
He tapped the folder with two fingers.
"We ran facial recognition through every existing international system, even private ones. We have information on her team, their families, past affiliations—hell, even a few real names."
He paused, looking directly at me now.
"But her? There's nothing. It's as if she was erased from every system before she even existed. This—" he gestured to the photo again, "—is the only thing we have. A face."
Alfred sat back slowly in his chair, still staring at the photo.
"She’s... a woman," he muttered, more to himself than anyone. "I always thought Siren was some older guy in a suit or something."
Fredd let out a low whistle.
"That’s not just any woman. She looks like she could kill us all and not blink."
I didn’t say a word. Because they didn’t know what I knew.
That I’d looked into those eyes before.
That Siren had once mouthed words directly to me.
That maybe... she was letting me live for a reason.
But what reason? And why did this feel more personal than ever?
I stared at the photograph one more time. The shadows under her eyes. The defiance in her jaw.
Who the hell are you, Siren?
My fingers tightened around the edge of the folder, jaw clenched as I tried to make sense of everything.
Then, Marvin looked at me.
Casually.
Too casually.
“I believe Agent Mike will share some information,” he said, the calm in his tone almost smug. “Since he had interactions with her before. Is that correct, agents?”
Every single pair of eyes shifted toward me—Alfred, Bea, Liam, Fredd—expectant, curious, suspicious. Like I held some kind of answer that would tie all this insanity together.
I straightened in my seat, pushing the folder aside.
“I did,” I admitted, voice low but steady. “But all I know was public knowledge. Siren works different.”
My gaze swept across them.
“I bet you all know by now that it would’ve been impossible for my team to be alive right now if she didn’t allow it.” I looked at Marvin, my tone hardening. “But I still don’t know why we were saved. Why did she let us go?”
I took a breath—then the words came sharper, angrier.
“Why was Dereck killed? Why him? Why not me? Why not all of us?”
Marvin remained still. No smile this time. Just that unreadable mask all high-ranking government men wear when they know more than they’re allowed to say.
I leaned forward across the table, staring at him, my voice a harsh whisper through my teeth.
“Marvin, what the hell is going on here?”
The silence that followed was like ice—cold and absolute. Even Alfred was watching Marvin now, his body stiff, on alert. Marvin didn’t look away from me. But it took him a few long seconds before he finally exhaled, fingers tightening around the edge of the briefing folder he carried earlier.
And in that pause, I knew—he did know something.
But whether he was going to tell us… that was the question.
Marvin held my stare for a beat longer. Then he did something that said everything without a single word—he looked away. Avoided me.
His voice was flat, detached. “Your job is to protect the president from her,” he said. Just like that. Cold. Simple. Like this was any ordinary briefing.
And then—he walked out. No explanation, no further detail, no effort to clear the storm cloud hanging over all of us.
He left us with a war… and no damn weapon to fight it.
Agent Bea let out a sharp breath, raising both her hands dramatically.
“This is too much to handle,” she muttered, eyes darting around like she was trying to find logic in a room that had none.
Agent Alfred shook his head, lips pressed tight in frustration.
“They want us to just protect the president,” he said, scoffing. “Not to hunt Sirens. Does that make sense to any of you? Mike?”
I looked at him. Right into his eyes.
Then slowly, I said, “It does. Because no matter how we hunt her… we can’t.”
The room fell quiet.
I leaned forward, letting the truth settle.
“All those who tried—died,” I said. “Director Xu. The Russian Mafia. Nicky. Duke. Dianne. Even the FBI. And now… Dereck.”
Their faces dropped as I spoke each name. Names we’d either known or read about. People once feared, skilled, legendary. All gone.
“All of them were trying to hunt her,” I continued, my voice low. “And Alfred… we can’t. Not now. Not yet.”