THE LAST MESSAGE 3

Part 3: Nowhere to Hide

Aman sprinted through the dark alley, his feet pounding against the damp pavement. His lungs burned, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

The black SUV. The hooded man. The government files.

It was all real.

He stole a glance over his shoulder. The hooded man was still chasing him, his pace relentless. Behind him, the men in suits were scanning the streets, barking orders into earpieces.

They were hunting him.

Aman turned a sharp corner, nearly slipping on a puddle. His mind raced. He needed a plan—fast. He couldn’t go home. They’d already tracked him to the café, which meant they could track his phone too.

He pulled it out mid-run, hesitating only a second before tossing it into a dumpster. If they were tracing him, that would at least slow them down.

A small victory.

But he wasn’t safe yet.

Ahead, the alley split into two paths. Aman veered right, hoping to shake them. The passage narrowed, lined with rusted pipes and flickering streetlights. The scent of damp brick and gasoline filled the air.

Then—

Dead end.

A towering brick wall blocked his way.

Aman skidded to a stop, panic surging through him. He spun around just as the hooded man entered the alley, slowing to a walk.

Trapped.

Aman clenched his fists, his back against the cold brick. The man stepped closer, the dim light revealing his face.

Rough stubble. Cold, calculating eyes. A scar along his jaw.

Definitely not a cop.

The man sighed, shaking his head. "You shouldn’t have taken the drive, kid." His voice was eerily calm. "Raghav got himself killed because he didn’t know when to stop. Don’t make the same mistake."

Aman’s heartbeat roared in his ears.

He swallowed. "Where is Raghav?"

The man smirked. "Gone. Just like you’ll be if you don’t hand it over." He took another step. "You don’t even know what you’re involved in, do you?"

Aman’s mind flashed back to the video. Project Vortex. Controlling the future.

He glared at the man. "And you do?"

The smirk faded. "I know enough to make sure people like you don’t get in the way."

Aman’s grip tightened around the flash drive in his pocket. He wasn’t giving it up. Not without answers.

The man sighed, pulling something from his jacket. Aman’s stomach twisted—

A gun.

"Last chance, kid. Give it to me, and you walk away."

Aman’s pulse thundered. His mind screamed at him to comply. To throw the drive and run. But something deep inside told him—if he handed it over, he wouldn’t walk away at all.

He had seconds to decide.

Then—

A loud crash echoed through the alley.

A shadowy figure dropped from above, landing between Aman and the gunman.

A woman.

Dressed in dark tactical gear, her face hidden under a hood. She moved fast—too fast. Before the man could react, she lunged, twisting his wrist and knocking the gun away. It clattered against the pavement.

The man cursed, swinging at her, but she dodged with practiced ease, landing a brutal kick to his ribs. He stumbled back, wheezing.

Aman barely processed what was happening before the woman turned to him. Her voice was sharp, urgent.

"Come with me if you want to live."

No time to think.

Aman grabbed the gun from the ground, then ran after her as she darted down the alley. Behind him, the man groaned, pulling something from his jacket—

A radio.

"Target is moving. Send backup."

Aman’s stomach dropped.

This wasn’t over. It was just beginning.