Ghosts of the Past

The cold silence between James and Isabella echoed louder than the stone walls of the catacombs. The flickering torchlight cast shadows across their faces, but none were as dark as the truth now lingering in the air.

“Michael Turner,” James repeated, his voice low. “The IIA’s lead strategist. And your husband.”

Isabella nodded, eyes downcast. “We were together for five years. He was brilliant, disciplined, distant. I didn’t know the man I married was capable of betrayal… until now.”

James stood, pacing. His mind raced—not with jealousy, but strategy. If Michael was involved in the Black Viper syndicate, the threat had just escalated from local corruption to global conspiracy.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” James asked, though the question held no bitterness—just concern.

“I wanted to,” Isabella said. “But things with you felt real. New. I didn’t want my past to poison what we had.”

He sighed. “It already has.”

A beat of silence passed before she stepped closer. “James… I didn’t plan for this. You have to believe me. If Michael’s involved in this plot, I’ll bring him down myself.”

James met her eyes. “Then we do it together.”

Just as the words left his mouth, Isabella’s comm crackled to life. A garbled voice came through: “Isabella—fallback protocol in effect. Salvatori’s team compromised. Multiple agents... eliminated. Turner has gone dark. He’s not responding to any secure channels.”

She froze. “Michael’s vanished?”

“More than that,” the voice replied. “He’s burned every link to the IIA. As of now, he’s off-grid.”

James and Isabella exchanged a look—one of grim understanding.

Suddenly, a muffled thud echoed down the tunnel behind them. James raised his weapon. “We’re not alone.”

From the shadows emerged a masked figure—lean, agile, armed. Without warning, he lunged. James blocked the strike, countering with a swift elbow. The two fought with brutal efficiency, their silhouettes dancing in torchlight. Isabella joined, landing a precise kick that knocked the intruder back.

His mask slipped—revealing a tattoo beneath his eye. A black viper.

“Tell us where Turner is,” Isabella demanded.

The man laughed, blood on his lip. “You’re already too late. He’s not hiding. He’s preparing.”

A flash grenade dropped at his feet. White light filled the chamber—then he was gone.

James coughed through the smoke. “He was trying to delay us.”

“We need to move,” Isabella said, already packing up the equipment. “If Michael has truly gone rogue, he won’t be alone.”

They emerged into the night, the streets of Rome cloaked in tension.

“I never imagined the man I once loved would become the threat I now fear,” Isabella whispered.

James glanced sideways at her. “Then let’s make sure he never gets a chance to prove you right.”

As they disappeared into the city’s maze of lights and alleys, they knew the battle ahead would test more than just their skill. It would test the very foundation of loyalty, love, and betrayal.

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