13 | Project Sokol

                                    

                                          

The woods at night were a symphony of whispers—rustling leaves, distant animal calls, and the ever-present hum of the wind weaving through the towering trees.
From the rooftop of Ivan's headquarters, nestled deep within this forest, I looked out at the vast, shadowy expanse below. The cold wind bit at my skin, but I welcomed it. 
Up here, in the dark stillness, far from the city's noise, I could almost find peace. Almost.
But tonight, peace was elusive.
Kai's failure at the gala had been a setback. 
Ivan wasn't pleased, though that was nothing new. Kai's hesitation had bothered me more than I wanted to admit. 
The way he looked at Kylan and the Bianchi brothers—it was like something inside him had cracked. If he became a liability, I had no choice but to handle it.
I turned from the rooftop, pulling my jacket tighter against the chill as I headed back inside the compound.
The dimly lit hallways were quiet at this hour, the few men who stayed at the base likely asleep or out handling business. 
The building itself felt like a fortress, carved out of the wilderness, its labyrinthine corridors designed to confuse and contain intruders. But tonight, it felt suffocating.
As I made my way to Ivan's office, I rehearsed what I would say to him. Kai could still be useful, but if Ivan disagreed, I needed to be prepared to take over the mission myself.
Pushing open the heavy wooden door to Ivan's office, I was met with darkness. 
Strange. 
Ivan was usually here late into the night.
I stepped inside, my eyes adjusting to the faint light that crept in from the narrow windows.
Shadows stretched long across the room, and something caught my attention—an open drawer on Ivan's desk, a soft glow spilling from within.
Curiosity tugged at me. Ivan was meticulous; he wouldn't leave something like that unattended.
I approached the desk cautiously, ears alert for any movement, but the silence was absolute.
The drawer was ajar, a yellow light from a tablet screen spilling out. 
I glanced toward the door before sliding the drawer open further.
The tablet displayed a series of files, dates, and names. One file caught my eye: "Project Sokol."
I knew I shouldn't. But temptation was a dangerous thing, and I had never been good at resisting it.
I tapped the folder open.
A series of documents appeared on the screen: training logs, psychological evaluations, surveillance photos.
My pulse quickened as I scrolled through them, the weight of their contents pressing down on me.
Then, I saw it.
A photograph of a boy, no older than five or six, with dark hair and piercing brown eyes.
Eyes that looked eerily familiar.
My breath caught in my throat as I realized I was staring at a picture of myself as a child.
I swiped to the next image—another photo, this time of the same boy with a woman. 
She had gentle eyes and a soft smile, her arm wrapped protectively around the child.
Something about her face sent a chill down my spine.