Cyran stood at the window, his thin frame drowning in a navy sweater, the cuffs pulled anxiously over his wrists. The morning outside was all static—rain-hazed glass, city colors smeared to gray. His jaw was tight, skin pale beneath stubble, and his eyes, always searching, flicked away as Rhion’s reflection appeared behind him.

Rhion moved like a blade—stiff, deliberate, her lipstick a perfect slash of scarlet. She wore a crisp black blouse, collar sharp as her gaze, and her hands stayed folded at her waist as if she were holding herself together. “Another account just walked,” she said, voice flat, eyes too bright. “And I suppose you’ve heard the rumors about sabotage?”

He nodded, one hand tracing the window ledge, lips parted as if to speak, then closing again. There were questions hanging in the space between them—sharp, unsayable. Cyran’s pulse stuttered when Rhion stepped closer, voice dropping. “I know what you’ve been hiding, Cyran. But I’m not the only one with secrets.”

Her words sent a chill through him, but before he could answer, the office erupted in commotion—a slammed door, harsh voices. Vessa strode past, black mascara melted at the edges, hair wild, jeans rain-spattered and clinging. She barely glanced at them, but Cyran caught the tremor in her shoulders, the defiance in her stride. He almost called after her but stopped, shame lodging under his tongue.

Gaven lingered by the coffee station, arms crossed, his graphic tee stretched tight and jaw twitching with suppressed anger. “Nice morning for a meltdown,” he muttered to Kas, who stood quietly to the side, notebook against their chest, eyes flickering with wary curiosity. Kas’s corduroy jacket and gentle posture made them a soft contrast—a presence almost invisible but always watching.

Cyran moved through the corridor, pulse pounding. He found Vessa in the supply closet, breathing fast, the fluorescent light rendering her skin translucent. Her fingers trembled as she fixed her hair. “I’m meeting him. Tonight. I can’t run anymore.”

He reached for her—hesitated, then tucked a strand behind her ear. “Don’t go alone,” he whispered, voice raw. Her eyes flashed, afraid but brave. “I’m done dragging you into my mess. I have to fix this.”

Later, in the shadowed parking lot, Vessa’s nerves were jagged as wire. The blackmailer’s silhouette loomed at the edge of darkness—but Kas stepped out from the shadows first, voice low and certain. “You don’t have to do this alone.” They pressed a trembling hand to Vessa’s shoulder. “Let me help.” Vessa, lost and desperate, nodded, her defiance draining into exhaustion.

Back inside, Cyran confronted Rhion in her spartan glass office. She sat behind her desk, straight as a pin, typing with viper-quick fingers. He slammed his hands on the glass, eyes wild and pleading. “Why did you do it? Manipulate the data, sabotage the work?”

She looked up, unblinking. “Because if I don’t control the narrative, someone else will. You think you’re the only one with scars?” For a moment, her mask slipped—vulnerability flashing, then gone. “If you want to expose me, do it. I stopped caring about consequences a long time ago.”

The office buzzed with rumors, tension thickening as Gaven cornered Cyran by the stairwell, a wicked smile curling his lips. “Hope you’ve kept notes, poet,” he whispered harshly. “Because I’ve got a file with your name on it, and Rhion’s, and Vessa’s. When this place goes down, I’ll be the last one standing.”

By midnight, the lights burned cold in the agency. Vessa, shattered after the confrontation, leaned into Kas’s quiet support, her breath hitching. Cyran, alone in his empty apartment, stared at another message from the unknown number—now a photo attachment. It showed him on the rooftop with Vessa, faces exposed, bodies pressed close in the rain. The caption read: This is only the beginning.

Somewhere in the dark, Gaven thumbed through screenshots and evidence, a satisfied gleam in his eye. Rhion’s fists clenched on her spotless desk, breathing in the consequences she could no longer control.

Everything had changed, and the reckoning had only just begun.

To be continued...