Ash Instead of Paper

The bottle hits the kitchenette and bursts wide, fire running along the old linoleum like it has been wanting this room for years. Nico's people move fast, shoving evidence into duffels, kicking the back door wide, shouting over the hiss. Another bottle smashes on the porch. Whoever wants Nina gone twice is not subtle anymore.

I grab the drawer-order notebook and the freezer bag nearest my hand. Callum yanks me low as glass blows inward from the front window. Outside, the dark line of the lake reflects orange. For one crazy second it looks as if Mercer Lake itself has climbed the hill to finish the job.

We get out through the back into wet pine needles and smoke. Agents split toward the tree line. Someone fires once from the dark, not at a person but at the truck tires, a delay shot. The attackers know procedure. Burn the room. slow the exit. destroy the paper. They do not need bodies if ash will do.

By the time local units arrive, the cabin roof is collapsing inward. Nico stands in the yard with soot on his collar and murder in his expression, taking inventory of what made it out. Three drives. one notebook. partial intake cards. not enough, and more than the attackers realized we had already touched.

"You were followed," he says to no one in particular.

"Or they had the location before we did," Callum answers.

Both options mean the leak is still breathing. I look at the burning cabin and think of Nina copying drawer order by hand because she knew paper dies easily and memory does not. Then I think of Poppy sleeping in a guarded hotel room and feel terror arrive with fresh legs.

My phone buzzes through the smoke. Unknown number. One line only.

You saved the index. Good. Now save the child.