The clouds over Melbourne hung heavy as Sabrina's blacked-out jet descended onto a discreet private airstrip just outside the city. The sun was yet to rise, casting everything in a grey hue that matched her mood. From above, the city looked like an unfinished puzzle—glass towers, curling freeways, and red-tiled roofs gripping the edges of the skyline.
Inside the cabin, Sabrina sat still, her eyes fixed on the skyline as if it could give her answers. Nia sat across from her, reviewing drone footage from the drop site.
"We've cleared the site. No external surveillance detected. Leo's team has been... restrained. Controlled."
Sabrina didn't respond.
Nia continued. "You're sure about this?"
Sabrina's gaze drifted to the envelope again, now sealed and tucked into her coat pocket. "No," she replied quietly. "But I'm sure I need to know why."
Why did Leo send the letter alone?
Why did he use the twins?
Why he hadn't said a word to the others?
The runway lights flickered past the windows as the jet rolled to a stop. The engines quieted, and the door hissed open with hydraulic precision.
Two guards in plain civilian wear were stationed at the foot of the stairs. Sabrina nodded once to Nia and descended alone.
She didn't dress like a CEO or a ghost. She wore a tailored navy trench, her boots soft-soled, her face bare. She had to be seen. She had to be real for this.
The meeting location was an upscale private gallery in Fitzroy—a neutral zone leased under a dead company name. It sat two stories high, hidden behind a faceless grey wall with no signage or curiosity. Inside, it was stripped clean, whitewashed, and silent.
Leo was already there.
He stood in front of an abstract canvas, hands in his pockets, looking more like a billionaire art patron than the hacker and digital phantom he was. He didn't turn when she entered, and they didn't speak.
Sabrina waited. Then:
"You've gotten better at hiding," Leo said, still staring at the canvas.
"You've gotten better at breaching classified architecture," she replied. Her voice was calm, but her heartbeat betrayed her.
He turned then.
His face was the same, but harder. Time had done something to him—drawn in sharper edges, dulled some of the mischief. His eyes, however, were the same. Always too perceptive.
"I didn't bring the others," he said.
"I know."
"They don't know about this meeting."
"I figured."
He nodded, almost satisfied. "You're angry."
She crossed her arms. "You sent me a letter with a picture of my children and a demand. I'd say that warrants something stronger than anger."
Leo stepped forward slowly. "It wasn't a demand. It was a plea."
"Don't insult me."
His jaw tensed. "You think I don't feel guilty? You think I haven't wanted to burn the world down for what we did to you?"
Sabrina's eyes narrowed. "Then why now? Why not reach out sooner? Why the games, Leo?"
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he moved toward a small table at the gallery's center. On it sat a sleek tablet. He tapped it once, and a feed appeared on the wall—footage from a secure surveillance camera.
Sabrina blinked. It was the Pact.
Dante, Zay, Malik. Sitting in Zay's mountain retreat, arguing, confronting, unraveling.
"You've been watching them?"
"I needed to see if they were ready," Leo said. "They weren't. Not when you left. Not for years. But now…"
Sabrina took a slow step forward. "You had no right."
Leo looked her dead in the eyes. "I had every right. You were ours, too. And we broke something none of us knew how to fix. I'm not here to force you. I'm here to give you something no one else can."
"What's that?"
Leo hesitated.
"Control."
Sabrina frowned. "Control over what?"
"Over the truth. Over how this plays out. You're not the only one being watched anymore."
He tapped another video. This time, the feed showed an exterior shot—someone following Zay. Another clip showed Malik's convoy in Uganda briefly halted by an unmarked drone. Then Dante, in Zurich, glanced over his shoulder just before disappearing into a crowd.
"You're not the only one who made enemies when you vanished," Leo said. "And now that they know you're not dead, the trail leads back to them. This whole thing was planned."
Sabrina stared at the screen. The pieces shifted. The scale of the game expanded.
"You came here to warn me."
"I came here to ask for your help," Leo corrected. "Because what's coming isn't just about us. It's about them. The kids. Your silence kept them safe. But silence won't be enough anymore."
Sabrina stepped away from the screen, her mind racing. "Why not go to the others?"
"Because you won't come back if they call. You'll only come back if you choose it."
He stepped closer, voice quiet. "I want you to see them again. But on your terms. Not because someone dragged you back. Because you walked back."
The ache in her chest was unbearable.
Leo reached into his coat and handed her a drive. "This has everything. The threats, the intel, even your last known traces. You'll see how close others are getting. Not just me."
Sabrina looked at the drive but hadn't taken it yet.
"And what do you want in return?"
Leo's eyes softened. "Just one thing. That when the time comes… you let them see their children."
A long silence passed between them. The kind that redefined everything.
Finally, she took the drive.
"I'll decide after I watch."
Leo nodded and stepped back. "Forty-eight hours. After that, I can't guarantee I'll be the only one knocking."
He walked past her, heading toward the rear exit.
"Leo," she called.
He paused.
"Thank you for not forcing me."
He gave a half-smile over his shoulder. "You were never the type that could be forced."
Then he was gone.
Sabrina stood alone in the gallery, the drive in her palm like a ticking clock.
And outside, the rain began again.