34. Nate
34
Nate
T wo seedy motels later, buried under ten-hour days of sifting through encrypted files, I opened the last sub-folder. My stomach twisted, a cold weight pressing against my ribs. The name Operation Nightfall glared back at me, each letter a silent klaxon blaring in my mind.
Ava shifted beside me, her leg brushing against mine as she murmured something nonsensical, her breath warming my arm. The soft glow of the bedside lamp bathed her face in gold, casting delicate shadows over her high cheekbones and the gentle curve of her lips. Exhaustion dragged her under after days of minute naps, but it wouldn’t hold. Ava never stayed down for long.
My fingers drifted over her skin, sweeping a loose strand of hair from her face. The warmth of her breath ghosted over my knuckles, and for a second, I let myself stay there—too long, too reckless. I had spent so much time weaving a lie between us, letting her see what I wanted her to see, until somewhere along the way, I tangled myself in it. The control I prided myself on slipped, frayed by the way she softened in sleep, unaware of the war waging beneath my skin
Falling for her was never part of the mission. But now? Now, I’d rip apart the world with my bare hands if it meant keeping her safe.
I forced the thought away, dragging my focus back to the screen, my fingers tightening on the laptop like a lifeline. My fingers skimmed over the touchpad, scrolling through layers of encryption until a single document unfurled on the screen. Lines of text filled the page, cold and clinical:
Project: Operation Nightfall - Classified
Phase III: Integration into Federally Approved Addiction Treatment Programs. Distribution initiated under the guise of rehabilitation aid in controlled populations. Objective: Neural compliance and behavioral dampening in high-risk demographics.
A diagram followed, detailing the targeted institutions—rehab facilities, halfway houses, VA hospitals. I inhaled sharply. This wasn’t just drug circulation. It was a systematic infiltration of the most vulnerable.
Subjects exhibit reduced aggression, loss of critical thinking, and increased suggestibility after sustained doses. 87% compliance achieved within four weeks.
The air thickened around me. My fingers tensed on the keyboard. This wasn’t just distribution—it was conditioning.
I stiffened. They're using addicts as test subjects?
I scrolled further, fingers moving fast, unraveling a deeper layer of the operation.
Phase IV: Population Optimization - Report 093
Two distinct variants of NeuraZene were introduced into controlled environments. Variant A successfully induced compliance—91% effectiveness after six weeks. Subjects exhibited diminished resistance reflexes and total emotional suppression.
My pulse quickened.
Variant B failed to achieve the desired results. Test subjects displayed erratic responses—extreme aggression, psychotic fractures, and unpredictable violence. Attempts to recalibrate neural suppression yielded inconsistent results. Subjects classified as non-viable.
A section titled Elimination Protocol followed, a chill coiling through my spine, squeezing my lungs in an iron grip. My pulse pounded against my ribs. My fingers hovered over the keys.
This can't be.
All Variant B subjects, along with distributors handling the failed strain, marked for immediate eradication. Field assets assigned to remove compromised dealers to prevent leaks. Non-responsive test subjects scheduled for termination to ensure operational integrity.
The cursor blinked at me, waiting. My grip on the laptop tightened.
They're erasing their failures.
“Ava.” I shook her shoulder.
No time for sleep.
Not now.
She jolted awake, her eyes darting around before locking onto me. “What?”
“They’re making their move." I turned the laptop toward her drooping, sleepy eyes. "Here." I placed the laptop on her lap. "You need to read this.”
She pushed herself up, eyes scanning the screen. The sleep vanished from her face as she read. “This can't be right." She rubbed her eyes, swiped the hair from her face, and leaned in. "This is insane."
“I thought so too, but I've read it over and over." I pointed at the screen. "They’re manufacturing obedience, Ava.” Standing, I paced the side of the bed. “Do you understand how serious this is? No free will. No resistance.”
She met my gaze, determination settling in. “How do we stop this?”
I stopped in my tracks and pointed at the laptop in her lap. “You’re a journalist. Write the story. We leak this to the right people and force the investigation before things get any worse.”
Ava let out a slow breath, shaking her head. "A few leaks won't be enough. You think a handful of corrupt officials are going to let this crumble? They’ll bury it before anyone gets a chance to read past the headline."
“If we don’t force their hand, it won’t matter,” I said, voice tight. “They’ll try to bury it, but we won't give them the chance. We send everything to your boss—digital, print, encrypted backups—spread it so wide they can’t silence it fast enough. If this goes public in a way they can’t control, it won’t be a leak—it’ll be a reckoning.”
"I don't have a boss, remember?" She chewed the inside of her cheek. "Besides, no one’s going to run with this unless I make them. I need to get in front of someone, force them to see it for what it is."
A chill knifed through my spine, tightening around my ribs like a steel vice. The air felt heavier, suffocating, as if the walls of the motel room had closed in an inch. “You want to walk into an office full of people who could be compromised?”
"It was your idea to go to Whitney." She tilted her head. “Do you have a better plan?”
I ran through every alternative, every possible workaround. Bribery, blackmail, disappearing into the shadows, and waiting for the right moment.
None of it held up.
Every scenario ended the same way—too risky, and no matter which angle I took, this was the only path forward. And that pissed me off more than anything.
"No."
She nodded, but her eyes lingered on mine. Then, she pulled away, refocusing on the laptop.
I stood and grabbed my jacket.
“Where are you going?” Her doe eyes peered up at me.
“Getting what we need to disappear after this goes public.” I turned back, hesitation flickering across her face. “I’ll be back.”
She nodded, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. I walked back to the bed, leaned down, resting my hands on the mattress near her. “You miss me that bad when I leave?”
A flush crept up her neck, turning her cheeks a fiery red. “Don’t.”
I shot her a knowing look. “Admit it.”
She looked away and I reached out, turning her chin toward me with the softest touch I could muster. "Admit it, sweetheart."
“Maybe.”
The honesty hit me harder than it should have. I held her gaze, my mouth moving closer to hers. “Maybe a part of me cares for you more than you realize.”
I stamped my mouth over hers before she could respond, drinking her in as though it'd be the last time, then straightened and headed for the door.
We had the ammunition to burn these bastards to the ground.