"There's a version of love where people don't vanish. But maybe I was never meant for that kind."
The first thing Ava noticed when she woke up was the silence.
Not the kind of silence that comforted—but the one that screamed something was wrong.
No cars outside. No sirens. No voices. Just an eerie quiet that seemed to press down on her chest.
She sat up slowly, disoriented, unsure of how she'd even managed to fall asleep. Her body ached like she'd been running in her dreams, or perhaps running from them. She rubbed her temples. Her mind flashed with the last moments before she blacked out.
Ben. The café. The flash drive.
Right.
She jumped up, rushed toward her coat and pulled out the small USB drive from the inside pocket.
A flash drive.
A paper note:
"Start with the file 'Cassandra.' And prepare for the truth."
Ava didn't know what she expected—but it wasn't this. A simple name that held no meaning to her.
Or maybe it did. Maybe she had just forgotten.
She stared at the flash drive for a long time, turning it between her fingers, before plugging it into her old laptop. The screen flickered to life.
One folder.
One file.
CASSANDRA.MOV
Her fingers trembled as she double-clicked.
---
It started like a documentary.
A dark room. A single chair. Then, a woman came into frame.
She wore a black suit and heavy makeup—like she'd been preparing for war, not an interview.
"Cassandra Markov," the woman said. Her voice was calm, calculated. "Former lead researcher for Project Persephone, under the Ghosh Institute."
Ghosh Institute.
Ava's breath hitched. That name—she'd heard it before. Years ago. Ben had mentioned it in passing. Said he worked with them briefly on AI and biometric surveillance projects. But that was before things... went dark.
Cassandra continued, her voice growing colder.
"They told us we were building a better world. Smarter systems. Safer cities. But we weren't building safety—we were building weapons. We were creating ghosts."
Ava stared at the screen, heart racing. The timestamp on the video said 2019. Just a few months before Ben disappeared.
Cassandra leaned forward. "If you're watching this, it means I didn't make it out. And it means he probably did. Ben."
Ava's breath caught in her throat.
"He always had a way of escaping the worst," Cassandra added with a slight smile. "But he couldn't run forever. None of us could."
---
The video cut to black.
That was it.
No explanation. No data. No coordinates.
Just... a warning.
Ava sat frozen in her chair. Her thoughts spiraled.
Ben had been part of something. Something much bigger than she ever knew. This wasn't just about love. Or grief. Or heartbreak.
This was about secrets. Dangerous ones.
The flash drive started to overheat in the port. Her laptop gave off a warning beep before going completely black.
Gone.
Ava pulled it out quickly, afraid it would catch fire.
Everything felt surreal.
She picked up the paper again. Looked at Ben's handwriting.
"Prepare for the truth."
Was that it? Just that cryptic video?
No. It wasn't over. It was just the beginning.
---
Later that evening, Caroline arrived.
The familiar sound of her boots clacking against the hallway floors felt like something out of a distant memory. She opened the door and entered with her usual whirlwind energy.
"Ava?" she called. "I brought wine and your favorite overpriced cookies."
Ava forced a smile. "Hey."
Caroline's eyes softened the moment she saw her. She dropped everything and pulled her into a tight hug.
"You look like hell," she whispered, rubbing Ava's back. "But you're still my favorite ghost."
Ava pulled away, trying to keep herself from falling apart. "I saw him."
Caroline blinked. "Who?"
"Ben."
Silence.
The wine bottle slipped from Caroline's hand and clanked softly onto the counter.
"You saw Ben?"
Ava nodded. "He's alive."
Caroline looked like she had seen a ghost herself. "That's not possible. We buried him."
"I know. But I'm telling you. He's alive. He spoke to me. He gave me this—" Ava handed her the flash drive, now cool and useless. "There was a video. A woman. Cassandra Markov. Ghosh Institute."
Caroline's face went pale.
"Oh my God."
"What?"
"I know that name."
---
They sat down. Wine forgotten. Cookies unopened.
Caroline stared into nothing. "Ava, after Ben disappeared, I started looking into where he might've gone. At first, it was just basic stuff—emails, contacts. But then... I found something. I never told you because I didn't want to add fuel to your grief."
Ava waited.
"There was a research group. Black-budget funded. Underground. Off the record. Ghosh Institute was just a front. Their real work was hidden. Something called the Cassandra Protocol. It was classified."
"And Ben was involved?"
Caroline nodded slowly. "I think he was one of the architects."
---
The rest of the night passed in anxious whispers, digging through old emails, archived forums, and digital shadows of a world that shouldn't exist.
At 3:00 a.m., Caroline closed her laptop with a heavy sigh.
"We need help," she whispered. "I know someone. He used to work cybersecurity for the city, but he got out after… well, let's just say he saw too much. His name's Rami. If anyone can dig into this without getting us both killed, it's him."
Ava nodded. "Set it up."
But even as she said it, part of her was already wondering:
Would the truth be worth the cost?
---
The Next Day
They met Rami in a café downtown. Unlike the cozy charm of Velvet Hours, this place was sleek, all chrome and glass. The kind of café that took itself too seriously, where the coffee was bitter and the silence was sacred.
Rami was already there.
Tall. Tan jacket. Aviator sunglasses even though it was cloudy. He looked up when Caroline walked in and gave a tired smile.
"This her?" he asked, glancing at Ava.
Caroline nodded. "This is Ava Mitchell."
Rami extended a hand. "Sorry for what you've lost. And what you're about to find."
Ava shook his hand. "I need to know everything."
"Are you sure?" Rami's voice was low. "Once you go down this path, there's no going back."
"I lost him once already. I'm not doing it again."
Rami studied her for a long second, then pulled out a small tablet. "I've been keeping tabs on Ghosh since I left. And Cassandra Markov? She vanished off the grid four years ago. But not before uploading a fragment of her research. Hidden in the metadata of a corrupted file."
He typed rapidly. The screen blinked, lines of code flashing.
"Here," he said, turning the tablet. "This is what she was trying to protect."
---
The file was a single page.
A list of ten names.
Ben was one of them.
So was Cassandra.
The rest?
Unknown.
Next to each name: a status. Most said DECEASED.
Except for Ben.
And Ava.
Ava's hands shook.
"Why is my name here?"
Rami looked grim. "Because you were part of it. Maybe not directly. But Ben brought you into something. Maybe to protect you. Maybe to use you."
"No," Ava whispered. "Ben would never…"
"You sure?" Rami leaned in. "You sure he's still the same man you loved?"
---
That night, Ava couldn't sleep.
The city buzzed outside, alive in a way that felt mocking.
She sat by the window, watching headlights blur into memory. Her mind replayed that moment in the café—Ben's eyes, the weight of his silence, the fear in his voice.
She reached for her phone. Typed his old number.
"If you're out there, I need answers. Not warnings."
She hit send.
It didn't bounce.
That meant the number still existed.
Somewhere, maybe he read it.
Maybe he hesitated.
Or maybe someone else was watching.
---
At 2:14 a.m., her phone lit up.
One new message. No name. No number.
"Look under the floorboard. Kitchen. Left side."
Ava's breath caught.
She got up slowly, heart pounding, and walked barefoot into the kitchen. The tiles were cold. The silence deeper now. She knelt by the cabinet and pried up the old wood panel.
It creaked.
And beneath it… a small black box.
Inside:
A photo of her and Ben from three years ago, marked with a red X across his face.
A keycard with the word ATHENA printed on it.
A note.
"If you found this, it means you're in deeper than I hoped. The city won't protect you. Caroline won't understand. But there's still a chance to stop what's coming. Trust no one. Especially not me."
—B
---
To Be Continued...
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