CHAPTER 26: BETWEEN LIES

The night before deployment slipped by in fragments of restless silence. Richard lay awake long after the room had gone still, long after Ahce’s soft, steady breathing had settled into the quiet. Her presence beside him should have brought peace. It always had before. But tonight, the sound only scraped against the guilt gathering inside him like gravel under skin.

A warm pool of lamplight brushed over her sleeping form, catching in the faint curve of her cheek and the fall of her hair across the pillow. To an outsider, she might have looked serene, untouched by shadows. But to Richard, every detail was a reminder of everything he kept from her.

In the hush of that hour, he studied her the way a man memorizes the last thing he’ll see before walking into darkness. She shifted slightly in her sleep, her hand searching blindly across the sheets until her fingers brushed his. Even asleep, she reached for him. The innocence of it cleaved him open.

She didn’t know he’d be gone before dawn.

She didn’t know where he was going.

She didn’t know she might never see him again.

There was so much he wanted to say. That he was terrified. That leaving her never got easier. That he felt more alive in her presence than anywhere The Division had ever sent him. But words like those had weight, and weight led to questions. It was kinder to lie. Safer. Cruel, but safe.

When the sky outside the window was still a deep shade of pre-dawn blue, he finally slipped out of bed. The air was cold against his skin, the room dim and hushed. He moved with a silence learned from years of training, avoiding any sound that might wake her.

At the doorway, he hesitated. He couldn’t stop himself from looking back.

Ahce stirred, turning toward the space he had just left. Her hand reached across the bed again, searching for warmth she wouldn’t find. Something in Richard twisted sharply, painfully, like a blade turning.

"Sleep well, Boss," he whispered, voice barely audible. "I’ll come back to you."

Whether it was a vow or a lie, he couldn’t tell.

Then he stepped out into the fragile gray edge of dawn and let the door close behind him.

At the base, the world was already alive. Engines rumbled, machines hissed, and the murmur of soldiers preparing for deployment filled the air with a kind of heavy anticipation. Squad S stood in formation near the loading bay, armored, armed, every one of them running on adrenaline and unspoken fear.

Lance spotted him through the crowd and nodded. "You made it, Captain."

"Always do," Richard replied, though the words felt strangely hollow.

They gathered around as the holographic map flickered to life. The mission briefing was crisp, methodical, and merciless. Coordinates pointed toward the outskirts of City E7, a wasteland abandoned after a massive industrial collapse. Official reports called it an uninhabited dead zone.

But satellite scans told a different story. Heat signatures under the ruins. Unidentified movement. Energy spikes. Radio frequencies that didn’t match anything human. It was the same place where Team B and Team C vanished without a trace.

The transport aircraft vibrated beneath their boots as they boarded. The moment the hatch sealed, the cabin filled with a heavy quiet. Everyone had their ritual. Lance cleaned his rifle until the metal gleamed. Rhea checked her comms and tightened her gloves. Owen scrutinized drone feeds like he could force them to tell the future.

Richard kept still, pretending he wasn’t afraid. Pretending he hadn’t left half of himself behind in a quiet bedroom.

Hours later, the pilot’s voice crackled through the comms. "Approaching target zone. Prepare for descent."

A thick tension gripped the squad. Even the veterans could feel it, that instinctive tightening in the chest that told soldiers they were about to cross into a place the world had forgotten for a reason.

Through the aircraft window, City E7 sprawled beneath them like a corpse left in the sun too long. Cracked roads split open like jagged wounds. Buildings sagged under the weight of time. No lights. No movement. Fog clung to the streets like old smoke that refused to die.

It wasn’t a city. It was a graveyard.

They touched down on a ruined highway overpass. The scent of rust, dust, and something faintly burnt hung heavy in the air.

"Squad S, move out," Richard ordered.

Their boots sounded unnaturally loud against the broken concrete. Empty shops stared back with shattered windows. Abandoned vehicles rusted where they’d died. Nature had begun reclaiming the city, weaving vines through hollow towers like a quiet, creeping funeral.

Owen swept his radar across the street.

"No civilians," he reported. "But... something’s interfering with the scanner."

Richard’s jaw tightened. "Same interference that hit the other teams."

"Or whatever caused it," Lance muttered.

They pressed deeper into the ruins. The city felt wrong. Too quiet, like the silence was listening.

A few blocks in, Rhea stopped short. "Captain. Look."

On the cracked wall beside them, a symbol had been painted in black ash. A spiral intersected by a vertical line. It resembled an eye staring out of the stone, watching, waiting.

"Recent," she added. "The ash hasn’t even settled."

Richard’s stomach tightened. "Mark the coordinates. Stay sharp."

Two blocks later, they found the first remnants of Team C. A shattered communicator. A helmet was punctured clean through. Blood smeared across the pavement, trailing into the darkness of an underground access tunnel.

The air grew heavier.

"This is bad," Owen whispered.

"It never starts good," Lance replied.

Richard crouched beside the communicator and lifted it. The metal was still warm. The blood on the ground had not yet cooled.

"Whatever happened," he said quietly, "it was recent."

They continued forward, flashlights slicing through thick fog. The deeper they moved into the city’s belly, the darker it became. Not just the absence of light, but something else. Something that pressed against their lungs. Something that tasted metallic on the tongue. Something alive.

Richard paused when a faint sound brushed against his hearing. A whisper. Not wind. Too deliberate. Too close. He turned, scanning the fog behind them. Nothing. Only that suffocating silence.

And in that moment, Ahce’s voice echoed in his mind, soft, hauntingly clear.

"If I need to choose between the hero and the villain... I’ll choose the villain. Without a doubt."

He exhaled shakily, a bitter sound lodged somewhere between a laugh and a curse.

What would she think of him now?

A man wandering into a dying city, working for an order that didn’t care if he lived or died.

A hero?

A villain?

Or just a fool carrying both roles badly?

"Captain!" Lance hissed. "Movement ahead!"

All weapons lifted. The fog shifted. Every breath in the squad stilled.

And then, from within the gray haze, a pair of eyes blinked open.

Not human.

Not even close.

Twin glows.

Predatory.

Unblinking.

"Shit," Lance breathed.

And the glowing eyes stepped forward.