Chapter 8: The Ghost Protocol
The redwood canopy swallowed the morning sun, casting the forest floor in a perpetual, damp twilight. Jack
marched forward, his boots crushing fallen pine needles. Lily rode on his back, her small arms wrapped tightly
around his neck, the teddy bear long discarded in the mud of the auto shop.
"Are we almost there, Uncle Jack?" she mumbled, her voice muffled against his leather jacket.
"Almost, monkey," Jack lied smoothly. His legs burned, and the wound on his side from the shrapnel was bleeding
through his shirt. But Arthur had left a ghost cache out here. A final contingency.
They reached a massive, hollowed-out redwood stump by midday. Jack moved a heavy layer of rocks, exposing a
titanium lockbox buried in the soil. He placed his thumb on the biometric scanner. It flashed red, then green. The
lid hissed open.
Inside was tactical gear, a suppressed HK MP7, C4 explosives, and a heavy, encrypted tablet. Jack powered it on. A
video message from Arthur appeared on the screen, his face pale and exhausted.
"Jack, if you're watching this, I'm dead. And Victoria is not who she seems. Evelyn Vance manufactured her. She's a
sleeper agent surgically altered to mimic Sarah, designed to bypass my security parameters. The syndicate wants
Project Genesis—a bioweapon targeting specific genetic markers. Only Lily's DNA can unlock the final firewall.
Keep her safe. Destroy the bunker."
May you like
Jack looked at Lily. She stared at the screen, tears welling. He closed the box and slung the MP7 over his shoulder.
The mission had just changed from a rescue to an assassination.
