My false interpretation took root immediately. The Ghost Unit was active in the valley during Sandstorm. If they were the ones who accidentally—or intentionally—caused the ambush, she would have every reason to infiltrate Blackwood, pose as a harmless recruit, and wipe the digital archives clean before anyone could connect her unit to the deaths of my men. She had the combat skills of an elite killer. She had the cold, calculating demeanor of someone who erased problems for a living. And she had just humiliated me in front of thirty people to establish an alibi of being just another arrogant recruit's punching bag.
I shoved the coin deep into my pocket, turned on my heel, and walked away from the server room. I needed proof before I acted.
The next morning, the atmosphere at the Blackwood facility was incredibly tense. News of the fight in the gymnasium had spread like wildfire. Everywhere I went, the recruits stopped talking and watched me. I ignored them. I was completely exhausted. I hadn't slept a single minute. I had spent the entire night running through every possible scenario in my mind, trying to piece together the shattered fragments of my past.
I found Sarah in the outdoor shooting range just after dawn.
The Nevada sun was just beginning to rise, casting long, harsh shadows across the dusty firing lanes. The air was already hot and dry. She was standing at lane four, wearing protective ear muffs and shooting glasses. She held a standard-issue 9mm pistol with a relaxed, effortless grip.
I stood behind the chain-link fence, watching her.
She raised the weapon and fired three rapid shots. Bang. Bang. Bang. All three rounds hit the absolute dead center of the target's chest, a grouping so incredibly tight it looked like a single ragged hole. She lowered the weapon, checked the chamber, and placed it on the wooden bench.
She didn't look back, but she knew I was there.
"You're breathing too heavily, Elias," she said, pulling off her ear muffs. "If you're going to stalk someone, you need to learn how to control your heart rate."
I pushed open the metal gate and walked onto the firing line. We were completely alone. The morning shift wouldn't start for another hour.
"What were you doing in the server room last night?" I asked. I didn't yell. I kept my voice low, dangerous, and completely flat.
She didn't flinch. She picked up a box of ammunition and began slowly reloading her magazine. "I don't know what you're talking about. I was in my barracks reading the field manual."
"Don't lie to me," I stepped closer, closing the distance between us. "I saw you bypass the biometric lock. I heard you on the radio. You were looking for the Sandstorm files."
Sarah paused. She slid a brass cartridge into the magazine, her thumb pressing down with mechanical precision. She finally turned her head and looked at me. The mild, polite mask was completely gone. Her gray eyes were sharp, calculating, and incredibly dangerous.
"If you saw me," she said quietly, "why didn't you pull the alarm?"
"Because I want to know what you're trying to hide," I fired back, my chest tightening with suppressed anger. "My team died in that valley. Four good men burned alive because the intelligence was wrong. You're Ghost Unit. You have the coin. You have the combat training. You were in the valley when it happened, weren't you? You're here to scrub Vance's servers so nobody finds out your unit screwed up and got my men killed."
Sarah stared at me for a long time. A strange expression crossed her face. It wasn't fear, and it wasn't guilt. It looked almost like pity.
"You really believe that?" she asked softly.
"I know what I saw," I said, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. "I know you're trying to erase the truth."
She set the loaded magazine down on the bench. She took a step toward me, closing the gap until we were standing just inches apart. The tension between us was electric, suffocating.
"Elias," she said, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "You are walking blindly into a minefield. You think you understand what happened five years ago, but you only know the lie they fed you to keep you quiet. If you keep pushing, if you keep digging into things you don't understand, you are going to get yourself killed. And this time, it won't be in a foreign valley. It will be right here in Nevada."
"I don't care about my life," I practically snarled, leaning into her space. "I care about the men I lost. If you touch those files, if you try to erase them, I will physically drag you to the authorities myself."
She looked deeply into my eyes. She didn't back down an inch. "I'm not here to erase the files, Elias. I'm here to copy them. But if you interfere with my operation, I will put you down permanently. Am I understood?"
Before I could respond, the heavy metal door leading to the main facility opened.
Director Vance stepped out into the morning sunlight. He was flanked by two large, heavily armed men from his private security detail. These weren't standard recruits; they were Vance's personal enforcers, men who operated completely off the books.
Vance smiled, but his eyes were completely dead. "Elias. Sarah. Getting some early morning practice in?"
I immediately stepped back, creating distance between Sarah and myself. "Yes, sir. Just going over some fundamental grip techniques."
Vance walked slowly toward us, his polished shoes crunching softly on the gravel. He looked at the perfectly destroyed target down the lane, and then he looked at Sarah.
"Your technique is flawless, recruit," Vance said, his voice dripping with condescension. He deliberately used the word 'recruit' instead of 'Colonel.' It was a subtle, aggressive power play. "But I think we've had enough excitement for one week. Sarah, I'm transferring you to Sector 4 for the remainder of your training. It’s a more... isolated environment. Better suited for someone of your unique talents."
Sector 4 was the old, decommissioned wing of the facility. It was practically abandoned, used only for storage and occasional live-fire breach drills. It had no cameras, no active security patrols, and only one way in or out.
Sarah's face remained completely stoic. "Understood, Director."
Vance turned his gaze to me. His friendly demeanor vanished instantly. "Elias, I want you in my office in ten minutes. We need to discuss your complete lack of discipline on the mats yesterday."
"Yes, sir," I said stiffly.
Vance turned and walked back inside, his enforcers trailing closely behind him.