The morning came with smoke.
Mia stood at the edge of the ridge, watching black plumes rise from the town center. Sirens wailed in the distance. She could already see the headlines before they were written: "Substation Fire Disrupts Communication in Wake of Mysterious Broadcast."
"Second fire in twelve hours," Alex said behind her, binoculars raised. "First the library. Now this. They're not even subtle anymore."
Mia didn't answer. She didn't have to. The pattern was obvious: burn the evidence, blind the town, choke the signal before the truth could take root.
Emily joined them, phone in hand. "All Wi-Fi's down. Cell towers too. It's like they're cutting the town off piece by piece."
"They're trying to isolate us," Mia said. "Divide, discredit, and erase."
"But we broke their silence," Emily said, almost defiantly. "People are talking."
"They won't be for long if they're too afraid."
They retreated back into the ranger cabin. Maps, notes, and backup drives covered the floor. Emily sat cross-legged, scrolling through a local news archive she'd downloaded before the signal died.
"They've launched an internal investigation," she said. "Three of the names we exposed were suspended from their posts this morning."
Alex raised an eyebrow. "That fast?"
"They're protecting the others," Mia said. "Sacrifice a few pawns to keep the king safe."
She flipped over one of the printed photos—an overhead shot of a gated estate on the hill. The centerpiece. The mastermind's lair.
He hadn't shown his face yet. Not publicly. Not officially. But they all knew he was watching.
His silence wasn't weakness.
It was calculation.
By noon, the streets were no longer quiet.
Crowds gathered in front of city hall. Some held signs. Others shouted accusations. Many just stood—confused, angry, uncertain. The video had done its work. The town wasn't asleep anymore. But waking it came at a cost.
From the back of a parked van, Mia and Alex observed the chaos unfold.
Emily monitored the police scanner, lips pressed into a thin line. "They're deploying riot control. Shields and rubber bullets."
"They're scared of their own people," Alex muttered.
"They should be," Mia said.
She leaned back in the van seat, her eyes catching the movement of a figure on the steps of city hall.
Deputy Mayor Langford.
One of the names not on their list.
Langford raised a megaphone, his voice distorted but loud enough to carry.
"We understand your concerns. We're aware of the unauthorized broadcast. The information shared has not been verified. We urge you to remain calm and await further updates as law enforcement investigates the source of this manipulation."
Manipulation.
There it was.
Mia stared, unblinking. "They're calling us liars."
"They have to," Emily said. "Admitting the truth would unravel everything."
But something else was bothering Mia.
Langford had always been a fence-sitter. Careful. Measured. Now, he was front and center, speaking for the entire council.
Where was the Mayor?
Where was the mastermind?
That night, the safe house didn't feel safe anymore.
Mia stood by the fire, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling in her gut. Something was wrong. Something hadn't clicked into place yet.
Emily was asleep, curled against her coat, fingers still wrapped around her phone.
Alex was awake, staring into the flames, jaw tight.
"Tell me the truth," he said quietly. "Do you think we're losing?"
Mia didn't answer right away.
"I think we scared them," she said. "And I think they're using that fear faster than we expected."
Alex leaned forward. "Then we have to be faster. We go after the others. Hard. No redactions. No filters."
Mia hesitated. "That puts more people at risk."
"We're already at risk."
A sound at the door cut the conversation short. Three knocks. Slow. Precise.
Mia stood immediately, grabbing the fire poker. Alex moved beside her, silent.
The knocks repeated—this time, only two.
A signal.
Alex opened the door just enough to see the figure outside.
Marla.
She was breathless, hood pulled low over her face, eyes wide. "They know," she whispered. "They're hunting everyone connected to the video."
Marla had been part of the underground network that helped gather the original evidence. A librarian turned whistleblower. Quiet, cautious, loyal.
Mia let her in, locking the door behind her.
"They raided my apartment," Marla said, trembling. "Took my laptop. My journals. I got out before they arrived, but… they knew what to look for."
Emily stirred, rubbing her eyes. "Are you hurt?"
"No. But it's not just me. Someone betrayed us. Someone gave them names."
The room went still.
Mia's stomach turned. "Are you sure?"
Marla nodded. "They had lists. Not just contributors—contacts. People we spoke to. People who listened."
Alex stood, his voice low and sharp. "Then we need to find the mole."
Mia's mind raced. There were only a few people who had access to the master list. The network had been careful. Compartmentalized.
Unless someone in the inner circle had broken.
"We need to relocate," she said. "Tonight."
"No," Marla said. "That's not all. There's more."
She pulled a photo from her coat pocket and handed it to Mia.
It was grainy, low-res, but clear enough.
It showed a man stepping into a black car, flanked by bodyguards.
His face was unmistakable.
Mayor Halvorsen.
Alive. Moving. Active.
The mastermind.
Alex leaned over her shoulder. "Where was this taken?"
"Outside the waterfront storage depot. Forty minutes ago."
Mia narrowed her eyes. "He's not hiding anymore."
"He's preparing something," Marla said. "And he's doing it in the open because he thinks we're too broken to stop him."
Emily looked at the photo. "Then we have to prove him wrong."
They made camp deeper in the forest that night, cold and tired but focused.
The plan was simple.
Infiltrate the depot. Find out what Halvorsen was moving. Expose it.
It wasn't just about documents anymore. It was about proof in motion. Activity. Real-time corruption.
As the fire burned low, Mia sat with Marla beside her.
"Why'd you come?" she asked quietly.
Marla shrugged. "Because you lit the match."
"Then why does it feel like everything's on fire?"
Marla didn't answer.
Instead, she handed Mia a folded piece of paper. "One of your files. You should read it again."
Mia opened it.
It wasn't one of hers.
It was Alex's handwriting.
And it was a list of names.
Her name.
Emily's.
Marla's.
All marked with red stars.
Mia's throat closed.
She turned toward the fire.
Alex wasn't there.