Page 72 of Code Name: Ghost

He's armed only with ego and distance—neither will save him now.

"Turn around," I say quietly as I insert the device into his computer that will allow Cherise and Cerberus to download all the information contained within.

Vallois doesn’t even flinch when I speak. The blood drains from his face as he turns to face me. Not because he recognizes my voice. But because he believed it was a voice he'd never hear again. The voice of a ghost. He recognizes all that's behind that voice. There will be no negotiation—only judgment and execution.

"You… you are supposed to stay dead," he whispers.

"I hear that a lot." I step closer, gun lowered but ready. "Where is Hector?"

He swallows. Tries to calculate. "If you kill me, you’ll lose everything."

"Cherise, sweetheart, are you downloading all of this?"

"Absolutely," comes the serene reply. Her voice, too, gives Vallois pause as the illusion of invulnerability slips away from him.

He wavers—his jaw working, knuckles white against the edge of the table—then he cracks, the bravado bleeding out of his voice like air from a punctured lung. The danger coiled in the room finally slices through his composure, and whatever illusions he clung to collapse. His shoulders slump, sweat slicking his temple. This is no longer a negotiation. It's survival. And he knows it.

"Marseille. He’s prepping the next shipment. Biometric clearance reroutes are already in play. After that, he's gone. Ghosted. Just like you."

I step in, press the muzzle to his knee. "And the network? Who's really running it?"

He hesitates. Just for a second. But a second in this room is the difference between walking out and bleeding out. My response is instant—I drive the butt of my sidearm into his gut, low and brutal. He crumples, gagging on air that won’t come, eyes wide with the realization that his stall might’ve cost him any chance of surviving this night.

Here, surrounded by servers that hum with blood money and burnable secrets, hesitation is lethal. And I don’t reward weakness when we're walking a line that could collapse beneath our boots at any moment.

"You think I’m bluffing?"

"It’s not me," he gasps. "I handle logistics. I arrange the corridors. The real power… they’re untouchable. I don’t even know names. Just directives. Encrypted contacts."

"Then give me the directives. Give me the logs. Now."

He nods frantically. "The black case. Left side. Access key is printed. You can?—"

I pull the trigger—one round. Between the eyes.

Vallois slumps forward with a sickening thud, his skull colliding with the mahogany desk hard enough to echo. Blood seeps out in a slow, spreading pool across the glass, thick and dark like ink spilled on a death warrant. There’s no cinematic gasp, no cryptic whisper. Just a final, brutal silence. No fanfare. No last words. Only the sharp, lingering certainty that this man’s death just painted a target on our backs. And we’re already deep in enemy territory.

I retrieve the black case and pop the latches one by one. The interior gleams with a hardened tablet and analog backups—printouts, encrypted drives, and a miniature keycard reader. I scan the logs, each line of code a signature of Vallois' operation. Every file confirms the scale—trafficking corridors rerouted through diplomatic channels, shipments disguised as humanitarian aid, and biometric shadow protocols tied to flagged medical IDs. Cherise’s name isn’t there—but it could have been. Might still be.

Logan steps in behind me, the muzzle of his weapon sweeping the dark corners before lowering. The burn marks on his vest from earlier breach dust make him look like he clawed his way out of hell. His voice is a whisper, meant only for me.

"We’re not just poking the bear, Nick. We’re taking out its spine."

I nod, not because I need confirmation, but because he's right. One mistake, one delay, and the network adapts. Our window isn’t closing—it’s already slicing down like a guillotine.

"Corsica node is dead," he says into the comms. "No more rerouting from this end. But they’ll feel this. They’ll come hunting."

"Good. Burn the comms center. Wipe it all."

He nods and disappears into the hall.

I exhale slowly, then tap my comm.

"Cherise."

Her voice clicks in, steady and ready. "Status?"

"Target neutralized. Data acquired. We're moving."

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