The moonlight over Crete was deceptive—it made the jagged rocks of the bay look soft, like velvet. We moved across the water in a silent electric skiff, the engine barely a whisper against the lapping waves. Yuri sat at the helm, his face a landscape of shadows. He had traded his linen shirt for dark tactical gear, the "Wolf" returning to his skin as we neared the kill zone.
I checked the weight of the handgun in my jacket. I had spent the last fourteen days on a private range in the hills, the recoil of the weapon becoming a familiar pulse. Yuri had taught me how to breathe through the trigger pull, how to see the target as a series of vectors rather than a person.
"The villa has a private dock," Yuri whispered, pointing toward a white structure perched on the cliffside. "There are no guards. He's paranoid, but he's broke. He's relying on the anonymity of his new name to protect him."
"Anonymity is a poor shield against a man with your resources," I noted.
"And a daughter with your memory," Yuri added.
We docked at the base of the limestone stairs. The air was heavy with the scent of blooming jasmine—a scent my father used to love. It made my stomach turn. We ascended the steps in a rhythmic silence, two ghosts coming to claim a debt.
The villa doors were unlocked. My father was sitting on the terrace, a bottle of ouzo on the table and a suitcase at his feet. He was looking at a map, his brow furrowed in the same way it used to be when he helped me with my math homework.
"Nikos?" I said, my voice cutting through the sound of the cicadas.
He froze. The glass in his hand shattered on the stone floor. He didn't turn around immediately. He stared at his own hands, trembling as they gripped the edges of the map.
"Jessica?" he breathed, the name sounding like a curse.
He turned, and the man I saw wasn't the brilliant Architect. He was a shriveled, terrified creature. When his eyes landed on me, and then shifted to Yuri standing in the shadows behind me, he didn't reach for a weapon. He fell to his knees.
"I had to do it," he sobbed, the words tumbling out in a pathetic rush. "The UNI... they were going to kill us both, Jessy. I thought if I sold the code, if I made you disappear, I could buy us a new life. I was going to come for you! I swear!"
"You were going to come for me with five million dollars in a bank account and a death certificate in your pocket?" I stepped into the light, the coldness in my heart finally crystalizing. "You didn't sell the code to save me. You sold me to save the code."
I looked at the suitcase. It was packed with stacks of Euros and a fake passport. He was ready to run again.
"He's all yours, Jessy," Yuri said, stepping back to the edge of the terrace. He crossed his arms, his grey eyes fixed on me, waiting to see if the "Key" would finally turn the lock on her own past.
I pulled the gun from my jacket and leveled it at the man who had given me life and then tried to take it back. My finger found the trigger.
"Please," my father begged, tears streaming down his face. "I'm your father."
"My father died in a car accident three years ago," I said, my voice steady. "You're just a ghost I'm tired of seeing."