Chapter 13: Someone Is Watching

The archive alarm echoed through the underground facility.

Red warning lights flashed across the walls, transforming the room into a sea of shadows and crimson reflections.

Claire Moreau stood frozen for half a second before instinct took over.

Sixty seconds.

That was all they had.

Sixty seconds before years of evidence disappeared forever.

Archive purge begins in sixty seconds.

The automated voice repeated the warning.

Claire rushed toward the nearest terminal.

There has to be a way to stop it.

Lena Fischer shook her head.

Not from here.

Then where?

Main control center.

Adrian Keller was already moving.

Forget stopping it.

Copy everything.

Claire immediately understood.

He was right.

Saving the archive was impossible.

Saving the information wasn't.

She dropped the black briefcase onto a desk and opened it.

USB drives.

Several of them.

Nightglass had unknowingly delivered the tools needed to expose itself.

Adrian connected one drive to a terminal.

The transfer began instantly.

Thousands of files appeared on the screen.

Identity records.

Surveillance reports.

Psychological evaluations.

Transfer logs.

Location histories.

Enough information to destroy governments if released publicly.

Claire stared at the size indicator.

How long?

Adrian checked the screen.

Three minutes.

We don't have three minutes.

No.

We don't.

The countdown continued.

Fifty-two seconds.

Fifty-one.

Fifty.

Lena moved toward another terminal.

There might be a backup server.

Claire joined her.

The archive stretched across multiple systems.

Rows of monitors displayed thousands of names.

Thousands of lives.

Every one connected to Nightglass.

Some listed as relocated.

Others listed as active.

Many listed as terminated.

The scale was overwhelming.

Then Claire noticed something.

A familiar name.

Her own.

She opened the file.

Immediately, a complete profile appeared.

Photographs.

Travel records.

Financial data.

Phone logs.

Private emails.

Everything.

Someone had been watching her for months.

Maybe years.

The realization made her skin crawl.

A new section caught her attention.

OBSERVATION NOTES.

Claire opened it.

Her stomach tightened.

Subject demonstrates high curiosity.

Subject resistant to authority.

Subject likely to investigate inconsistencies.

Recruitment probability remains favorable.

Recruitment.

Not capture.

Not elimination.

Recruitment.

The word appeared repeatedly.

Claire read faster.

Subject suitable for integration.

Recommended for advanced transfer.

Potential future asset.

Asset.

That word again.

She wasn't a person in their system.

She was inventory.

Something useful.

Something they wanted.

Why?

The question lingered.

Before she could search further, Lena called out.

Claire.

You need to see this.

She moved quickly to Lena's terminal.

Another profile filled the screen.

Not hers.

Adrian's.

Subject: Adrian Keller.

Classification: Survivor.

Monitoring Status: Ongoing.

Claire immediately recognized the classification.

The same one Sofia Brandt had mentioned.

Survivor.

Not passenger.

Not subject.

Survivor.

What does it mean?

Adrian stepped closer.

I don't know.

For the first time, Claire believed him completely.

Then Lena opened another file.

This one belonged to Matthias Keller.

Everything changed.

The profile contained dozens of updates.

Psychological assessments.

Security reports.

Interview transcripts.

Then a photograph appeared.

Matthias standing beside Viktor Weiss.

Neither looked happy.

A second photograph showed Matthias arguing with armed personnel.

A third showed him inside what appeared to be a research facility.

The timestamps were recent.

Very recent.

He was definitely alive.

Adrian stared silently.

Claire could see hope fighting with confusion.

If Matthias wasn't a prisoner...

Then what was he?

Forty seconds remaining.

The announcement interrupted everyone's thoughts.

The purge countdown continued.

Lena suddenly froze.

Wait.

What?

This file.

Her voice trembled.

Claire moved closer.

A surveillance recording filled the screen.

Timestamp: Seven days earlier.

Location: Nightglass Central Facility.

The footage showed a conference room.

Several people sat around a table.

Viktor Weiss.

Matthias Keller.

Other Nightglass executives.

The audio played automatically.

We are running out of time.

That was Matthias.

Clear.

Urgent.

The system is unstable.

One executive shook his head.

We can still contain it.

No.

Matthias leaned forward.

People are disappearing outside authorized parameters.

Transfers are occurring without approval.

Someone is manipulating classifications.

The room fell silent.

Claire's pulse accelerated.

This wasn't a kidnapping operation gone wrong.

Something inside Nightglass itself had broken.

Or been corrupted.

The recording continued.

Viktor Weiss looked concerned.

Do you have proof?

Matthias nodded.

Yes.

And someone knows I found it.

The video ended abruptly.

The room around Claire felt colder.

Someone inside Nightglass had discovered something.

Something important enough to trigger panic.

Something important enough to start killing people.

Thirty seconds remaining.

The archive lights flickered.

Servers began shutting down.

One by one.

Data vanished from screens.

Files disappeared.

Entire databases blinked out of existence.

Claire felt desperate.

We need more time.

There isn't any.

Adrian looked toward the door.

Then his expression changed.

Someone is coming.

Footsteps echoed beyond the archive.

Several people.

Moving quickly.

Not hiding.

Not sneaking.

Coming directly toward them.

The security breach response team.

Nightglass.

Or the attackers.

Nobody knew.

The uncertainty was worse.

Twenty seconds remaining.

The transfer progress bar reached only thirty-two percent.

Not enough.

Nowhere near enough.

Claire looked around desperately.

Then noticed a small icon blinking in the corner of the screen.

REMOTE SURVEILLANCE ACTIVE.

She froze.

What?

Lena looked up.

What is it?

Claire pointed.

Someone is watching us.

Not reviewing old footage.

Not monitoring logs.

Watching.

Right now.

The realization silenced the room.

The blinking icon continued.

A live observer.

Connected to the archive.

Connected to them.

Someone had been watching everything they did.

Every file.

Every discovery.

Every conversation.

Then a new message appeared on every screen.

Not generated by the system.

Typed manually.

One line.

Simple.

Direct.

RUN.

The three letters appeared simultaneously across dozens of monitors.

Nobody spoke.

Nobody moved.

Then another message appeared.

THEY FOUND YOU.

The archive doors exploded inward.

Metal twisted.

Alarms screamed.

Armed figures stormed into the room.

And the countdown reached ten seconds.