2
The car stopped in front of an abandoned motel.
It's been closed for three years; the walls are peeling, and only half of the neon sign remains. But at least it's safe—no surveillance, no registration, and nobody will find it.
Ivy helped me into one of the rooms.
The room was old and run-down, the sheets were moldy, and there was a damp smell in the air. But I couldn't care less about any of that—the wound on my right shoulder was still bleeding, and I needed to treat it immediately.
"Bring me the first-aid kit," I said.
Ivy rummaged through the first-aid kit and found needles, thread, disinfectant alcohol, and gauze.
I took off my shirt, and the wound on my right shoulder was shocking—the old wound from three years ago had reopened, with new wounds superimposed on the old ones, a bloody mess.
Ivy gasped.
"Don't look," I said. "Go and hack the USB drive."
But you—
"I can handle that," I interrupted her. "The USB drive is more important."
Ivy bit her lip and finally nodded. She sat down at the table, opened her laptop, and inserted the USB drive.
I picked up the alcohol and poured it on the wound.
Zi—
A sharp pain instantly spread throughout my body. I gritted my teeth and let out a low groan.
Then comes the stitching.
I held the needle with my left hand, and my right hand was completely useless—I could only bite the other end of the thread with my teeth.
The needle pierces the skin, passes through the muscle, is pulled taut, and tied in a knot.
One stitch, two stitches, three stitches...
Each needle feels like a knife cutting into the skin.
Ten minutes later, I had twelve stitches, and the wound barely closed.
I leaned against the headboard, panting heavily, my forehead covered in cold sweat.
"Ethan..." Ivy turned to look at me, her eyes reddening again.
"Don't cry," I said. "I'm not going to die. How about the USB drive?"
Ivy wiped away her tears and turned back to the screen: "The first layer of encryption is military-grade AES-256. I'll use a brute-force cracking program; it will take about three hours."
"Three hours..." I closed my eyes, "Then I'll wait."
"Ethan, you take a rest. I'll keep watch."
I wanted to say no, but my body had already reached its limit.
The painkiller's effects are wearing off, and the pain is returning.
My consciousness began to blur, and my eyelids grew heavier and heavier...
I dreamt of three years ago.
That damn night.
Three years ago, deep in an abandoned mine.
Gunshots, explosions, and screams mingled together.
I was leading a five-member task force on a mission in an abandoned mine—to dismantle an illegal arms smuggling network.
But we were betrayed.
The enemy knew we were coming; they had set traps in every corner.
"Retreat!" I yelled into the communicator, "Everyone retreat!"
But it was too late.
At the end of the corridor, a dozen mercenaries rushed out, armed with heavy machine guns.
Bullets rained down.
I rolled behind cover, but the others weren't so lucky—
Old Victor was shot in the chest and fell into a pool of blood.
Tommy was blown away by a grenade, and his body was mangled beyond recognition.
Only Danny and I were left.
"Boss!" Danny cried, taking cover behind me and returning fire with his sniper rifle, "We're surrounded!"
I looked around—enemies were everywhere, and my retreat was blocked.
"Go through the ventilation duct!" I pointed to the air vent above my head. "You go up first!"
And what about you?
"I'll cover you!"
Danny hesitated for a second, then nodded. He jumped up, grabbed the edge of the vent, and climbed up.
Just then, a mercenary rushed out from the side, holding a pistol with silver bullets.
That's a weapon specifically designed to kill werewolves.
He pulled the trigger—*
Bang!
I couldn't dodge in time.
The silver bullet struck my right shoulder, and the silver poison instantly rushed into my blood vessels.
I screamed and fell to the ground, my right arm completely numb.
"Boss!" Danny poked his head out of the ventilation duct, "I'm here to save you!"
"Don't get down!" I yelled, "Get out of there!"
But Danny still jumped down.
He rushed to my side and helped me up: "Boss, I won't abandon you!"
"You idiot..."
The dream suddenly ended, and I opened my eyes abruptly, gasping for breath.
I was covered in cold sweat, and my heart was pounding.
"Ethan?" Ivy's voice came from beside me, "Did you have a nightmare?"
I sat up and looked out the window—it was still dark, four in the morning.
"How's the cracking going?" I asked.
Ivy turned back to the computer: "The first layer of the crack is complete. But there's a second layer—biometrics. Iris scanning is required."
"Iris..." I frowned, "Danny's iris?"
" No. " Ivy brought up a new interface, " It's yours. "
I walked over and had the computer scan my eyes .
1 minute later——
"Crack successful."
A third layer of encryption appears on the screen—a dynamic key that changes every 30 seconds.
Ivy frowned: "This is even more difficult... The key is randomly generated, there's no pattern."
"There's a pattern," I said. "All encryption follows a pattern; we just haven't found it yet."
I walked to the table and stared at the constantly changing key on the screen.
37 6 82E
9K4L1P
2Q8N6D
H5 9 3M9
Numbers, letters, random arrangement...
etc.
I suddenly noticed a detail—the third digit of each key was a number.
37F82E → The third digit is 6
9K4L1P → The third digit is 4
2Q8N6D → The third digit is 8
H5 9 3M9 → The third digit is 9
6, 4, 8, 9...
"This is the date," I said.
Ivy was stunned: "What?"
"June 4th, August 9th." I looked at her. "These are your and Danny's birthdays."
Ivy gasped, "Then the next key should be..."
"November 22nd," I said, "your mother's birthday."
Ivy quickly entered the key—
"Crack successful!"
The screen went black for a second, then lit up.
A video file plays automatically.
The image shows Danny's face.
Danny sat in a dimly lit room with concrete walls as a backdrop. His face was haggard, and his eyes held a suppressed anger.
"Ethan, if you're watching this video, it means I'm already dead."
Danny's voice was calm, but I could tell he was suppressing something.
"That mission three years ago...it wasn't an accident. Someone betrayed us."
My breath stopped for a second.
Danny continued, "I investigated for two months and finally found evidence. The person who betrayed us was—Marcus Cross."
My pupils suddenly contracted.
Marcus Cross.
My uncle.
Former CIA Black Ops Director.
"Marcus took the money from Shadowstone Private Military," Danny said, pulling up several photos. "These are the bank transfer records—twenty million dollars, deposited in five installments into Marcus's overseas account. The transactions took place three days before the mission."
The photo clearly shows Marcus's account information and transaction details.
"He sold our location, route, and weapon configuration to Shadowstone." Danny clenched his fist. "Our mission failed because of him."
He looked at the camera with a serious expression.
"Ethan, if the evidence on this USB drive isn't enough... "
"There's one more thing," Danny said. "I had a biochip implanted in me, which stores the video calls between Marcus and Shadowstone . If I die, the chip will still be in my body."
He paused for three seconds.
"Ethan, go dig it out."
"Take good care of Ivy."
"Then--"
Danny's eyes turned cold:
"Make them pay the price."
"Brothers don't lie."
The video has ended.
The room was completely silent.
I stared at the black screen, my fists clenched so tightly my knuckles turned white.
It's been three years.
For three years, I thought that mission failure was an accident, an intelligence failure, or just bad luck.
But now I know—
We were betrayed.
Betrayed by the person I trusted most.
Ivy's voice trembled: "Ethan...your uncle..."
"He's not my uncle," I said coldly. "He's a traitor."
I stood up, a sharp pain shooting through the wound on my right shoulder, but I couldn't care less.
I dialed a number.
"Hello, this is the FBI..."
