Jonathan’s cabin smelled of old books, burnt coffee, and dust. The wooden shelves lining the walls were stacked with papers and scattered notes—traces of a man who dealt in secrets. The dim light flickered overhead, casting shadows that stretched like specters across the room.

Nathan stood in the center, arms crossed, his mind processing every word Jonathan had just spoken.

“You’re saying we need a hacker?” Mason asked, leaning against the wall, his expression skeptical.

Jonathan nodded. “Not just any hacker. Someone who can breach The Syndicate’s encrypted archives without setting off every alarm in their system.” He tapped his fingers against the desk. “There’s only one person I know who fits that description.”

Nathan exhaled slowly. “Who?”

Jonathan hesitated. “Goes by the alias Cipher. Real name? No one knows. But if there’s someone who can break into The Syndicate’s digital fortress, it’s them.”

Axel frowned. “And let me guess—finding this ‘Cipher’ won’t be easy.”

Jonathan let out a low chuckle. “Oh, it’ll be easy to find them. The hard part will be convincing them to help.”

Lila tilted her head. “Why?”

Jonathan leaned back in his chair. “Because Cipher doesn’t trust anyone. They operate in the shadows, selling information to the highest bidder. If you want their help, you’ll need something valuable to trade.”

Nathan’s gaze darkened. “Then we give them something they can’t refuse.”

Jonathan sighed. “It won’t be that simple.” He turned to an old laptop resting on the desk and began typing. “From what I’ve gathered, Cipher has been laying low for a while, but they pop up in certain places now and then.”

Eli stepped forward. “Where’s our best lead?”

Jonathan pulled up a blurry surveillance image. It showed a figure in a dark hoodie, sitting in a crowded café, a laptop open in front of them. The timestamp was only a few days old.

“Paris,” Jonathan said. “Cipher was spotted at a black-market tech exchange near the Seine. If they’re still there, that’s where you’ll find them.”

Axel let out a whistle. “Paris. Fancy.”

Mason wasn’t amused. “I hate international jobs.”

Nathan ignored them both. “Then that’s where we go.”

Lila looked between them. “What if they refuse to help?”

Nathan’s voice was cold, unwavering. “Then we make them.”

Jonathan shook his head. “Listen, Cipher isn’t some Syndicate lackey you can intimidate. If they feel threatened, they’ll disappear before you can blink. If you want them on your side, you’ll have to be smart about it.”

Nathan considered this. He wasn’t the type to rely on tech specialists—his skills had always been rooted in the physical world. But he knew that in this war against The Syndicate, information was just as valuable as a bullet.

And if Cipher held the key to unraveling the mystery of “Nathan Bennett,” then they needed to be found.

Jonathan closed his laptop. “I’ll keep digging, see if I can pinpoint their exact location. You should prepare for a trip.”

Mason sighed. “Guess we’re going to Paris.”

Nathan turned toward the door. “We leave at first light.”

As they stepped outside, the cold night air wrapped around them. Lila fell into step beside Nathan. “Do you think this Cipher person will really help us?”

Nathan glanced at her. “We’ll find out soon enough.”

In the distance, an owl hooted—a lone sound in the stillness of the night.

Nathan had spent years running from his past. Now, the hunt for Cipher would bring him one step closer to the truth.

One step closer to the ghost of Nathan Bennett.