"The deeper you dig for truth, the darker the soil becomes."
Ava stared at the flash drive, its metallic body cold in her palm. It felt heavier than it should—like it carried not just data, but answers, memories, and danger. She hesitated, then plugged it into her laptop.
A single folder appeared: "CASSANDRA."
Inside were multiple files. Images. PDFs. Voice recordings.
The first file Ava clicked was a scanned document—an old report from the FBI dated 2014. Subject: Operation Cassandra. The contents were heavily redacted, black lines covering most of the paragraphs, but one sentence caught her breath:
"Target is active in New York under false identity. Objective: silence all former witnesses."
Ava scrolled faster. Images of people—men and women in suits. A photo of a younger Ben. A handwritten note that read: Trust no one. Not even yourself.
---
Suddenly, a knock.
She jumped.
Three slow knocks. Then silence.
Ava quickly unplugged the flash drive and hid it under the floorboard near the radiator. She approached the door cautiously, peeking through the peephole.
It was Caroline.
Ava exhaled sharply, heart pounding. She opened the door, trying to mask her nerves.
"Hey, stranger," Caroline greeted, holding two cups of takeout coffee. "You didn't answer my messages. I figured you needed caffeine."
Ava forced a smile. "I was... unpacking. Lost track of time."
Caroline entered, placing the coffee on the table. Her eyes scanned the room. "This place still smells like my grandmother's closet."
Ava chuckled lightly, then sat down. She couldn't bring herself to tell Caroline about Ben. Not yet.
---
Later that night, after Caroline fell asleep on the couch watching reruns, Ava opened a second file.
This time, it was an audio file.
Ben's voice.
"If you're hearing this, Ava, it means I couldn't tell you everything in person. Operation Cassandra wasn't just surveillance. It was erasure. Of people. Of truths. I was never supposed to be part of it. But I got too close. And then... they made me disappear."
He paused in the recording.
"They're watching you now. They've been watching since the moment you landed. There are things you need to find. And others you need to leave buried."
Static.
Then a final whisper:
"Go to the Dakota. Room 614. Trust no one."
---
The Dakota.
It was a famous historic building on the Upper West Side—where John Lennon had lived and died. Ava had never been there. But now it seemed fate had other plans.
She scribbled the address in her notebook, her fingers trembling.
Caroline stirred. "What are you writing?"
Ava closed the notebook quickly. "Just old ideas. For a novel."
Caroline raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Ava couldn't risk trusting her.
Not now.
---
At 2:00 AM, Ava left the apartment. The streets were quiet, save for the soft murmur of wind and distant sirens. She wore a hoodie and jeans, blending with the night.
The Dakota stood tall and timeless, its ornate façade illuminated by golden streetlights. Room 614 was on the sixth floor, but Ava knew she couldn't walk in through the front door.
She circled the building. Found a fire escape.
Climbing it was reckless. Stupid, even.
But Ava had already crossed that line the moment she returned to New York.
---
Inside Room 614, the air was still, untouched.
She found it unlocked. Odd.
Furniture draped in sheets. Dust on every surface.
But there was something else.
A red envelope sitting on the mantle above the fireplace.
Her name written on it.
Inside was a photo.
A woman—long dark hair, a scar across her left eyebrow.
On the back: Cassandra isn't a mission. She's a person.
And below that:
She knows why Ben disappeared.
---
To be continued...