Chapter 5 – The Double Cross

The safehouse was a cramped, dimly lit apartment tucked above an aging bakery in Vienna. The ceiling sagged slightly, the wallpaper peeling at the corners, and every creak of the wooden floor seemed louder than it should have been.

The air carried the faint sweetness of yeast and burnt sugar from the ovens below, a constant reminder of normal life continuing just a few meters away. Yet up here, behind the heavy curtains and locked door, normal felt like a world she no longer belonged to. Still, the warmth rising through the floorboards kept the evening chill at bay, wrapping the room in an uneasy comfort.

Maya sat on the narrow bed, her posture rigid, a scrap of paper trembling between her fingers. The coordinates etched into it in hurried, jagged strokes burned into her vision no matter how many times she blinked. She traced the numbers again and again, as though repetition might yield clarity or courage.

Her mind wouldn’t stop circling back, dragging her through fragments she wished she could silence. The crack of the sniper’s rifle still echoed in her skull, sharp and merciless. The blast of the explosion replayed with every thud of her heartbeat, the ground splitting beneath her as the world blurred into smoke and chaos. And then there was Damian, always moving with a certainty that unsettled her. He had known exactly where the service exit was, guiding her through the confusion without hesitation, too precise too practiced.

She watched him quietly as he cleaned his pistol on the table. He worked with a calm precision that unsettled her like he’d done this a thousand times before.

Finally, she said, “You knew we’d be followed, didn’t you?”

He didn’t look up. “Helix doesn’t let loose ends wander. I told you that.”

“But you didn’t seem surprised. Almost like you were expecting them.”

That made him pause. He slid the pistol back into its holster, eyes meeting hers. “You think I set you up?”

Maya swallowed. “Should I?”

For a heartbeat, silence stretched between them, thick with tension. Then Damian leaned back, exhaling slowly.

“If I wanted you dead,” he said, voice low, “we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Her pulse quickened. “That’s not exactly reassuring.”

“Good,” he replied. “Because you shouldn’t trust me, not completely.”

Later that night, Maya couldn’t sleep. She turned the numbers over in her mind, tracing them again and again until her eyes burned. They pointed not to a landmark, but to a storage district near the river.

She needed answers and she couldn’t wait for Damian.

So she slipped out quietly, her footsteps muffled on the stairwell.

The coordinates led her to a warehouse, abandoned but not forgotten. Rust streaked its walls, and the windows were blackened with grime. She slipped inside through a side door, her phone light trembling across rows of crates.

In the center of the room was something strange: a steel box, about the size of a suitcase, chained to the floor. Symbols were etched into its surface mathematical notations, fragments of equations.

Her heart pounded. Varga’s work.

She crouched beside it, fingers brushing the cold metal. A faint beeping sound emanated from inside, steady and rhythmic.

Then footsteps.

Maya whirled, light flashing across the shadows.

Damian.

He stepped into view, his face unreadable. “You shouldn’t be here alone.”

Her chest tightened. “How did you find me?”

He didn’t answer immediately. His hand hovered near his coat pocket.

The beeping from the steel box quickened.

Maya’s instincts screamed. “Damian what is this?”

He opened his mouth then a gunshot shattered the silence.

The bullet slammed into the crate, sparks flying.

Maya dropped flat as shadows spilled into the warehouse armed men in dark coats, weapons raised.

“Helix,” Damian growled, drawing his pistol and returning fire.

The box’s beeping turned frantic, shrill. A countdown.

“Bomb?” Maya shouted.

“Decoy,” Damian barked. “Move!”

They dove behind crates as bullets tore through wood and metal. Maya’s ears rang, her hands shaking as she scrambled for cover.

One of the Helix soldiers lunged toward her. She swung a broken pipe from the floor, striking his arm. The gun clattered away.

Damian shot another attacker, then grabbed Maya’s wrist, pulling her toward a shattered window. “Out!”

They leapt through as the steel box erupted not with fire, but with blinding white light and a concussive blast that knocked them sprawling onto the cobblestones outside.

When Maya’s vision cleared, the warehouse was already engulfed in smoke. Helix agents scattered like shadows, disappearing into the night.

Maya coughed, clutching her ribs. “That wasn’t just a bomb.”

Damian’s face was pale in the glow of the fire. “It was a signal flare. Someone knows we’re here.”

Her gaze locked on his. For the first time, she wasn’t sure if he was talking about Helix or himself.

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