Some nests are best left undisturbed." It wasn't just a threat; it was a confirmation. She was on the right track, and some

nal. Perhaps he's busy, she thought, though a flicker of doubt ignited within he

father's cryptic remarks about his "digital vault," a secure server he'd designed himself, impenetrable to outsiders. He'd often joked that it held the true bluepr

es with an old, tarnished silver compass he kept on his desk, followed by a sequence of numbers entered

contrast to the warmth of her hand. Her father had once told her it was a gift from her mother, a guide in uncertain times. She began to mimic his move

A small, almost invisible keypad was revealed. Isabella took a deep breath. What

ightens. Find the head, Bella. Don't trust the shadows." And another phrase

8-3-5-6-3-7. The keypad beeped, and a hidden panel slid open, revealing a sleek

ver. The screen flickered to life, prese

swo

. She stared at the screen, her mind racing. What was the one thing her

wled

it in. Acc

ything she'd found in the physical office. It was a digital map of her father's entire network, both legitimate and illicit

re were multiple subfolders. One was simply title

rce against whom her father had been subtly, meticulously waging a silent war. Project Chimera wasn't an alliance; it was a complex operation designed to undermine Volkov's vast

cials across Eastern Europe and even, alarmingly, within the city itself. Her father had been gathering

ks before her father's death. The last message was incomplete, fragmented,

. The Architect is compromised. They're moving fast. Get o

the inside had tipped off Volkov. And "Cerberus_Alpha" – who was that? Another player, warning her fat

a target; he was murdered because he was close to exposing Volkov. And the warning call she rece

, a low thrum that vibrated through the floorboards. Isabella froze, her eyes darting t

oed from the main

was in t

machine had led her to the truth, but it had also led them to her. She quickly disconnected her

liberate, ascending

ote, stuffing them into her bag. The footsteps were close

the secret passage behind the bookcase – a hidden escape route her father had shown her years ago, a