The Red File Book Two : Code Obsidian

Inside the Emerald

The Emerald Society's building looked like every other dead-end government shell—glass walls, recycled air, hollow architecture designed to keep people disoriented.

Emma moved first, eyes sharp. The kids followed in formation, hoods up, staying close. Noah lingered near the back, still shaken, but alert. The weight of what he remembered hadn't dulled his instincts—only sharpened them.

They passed the security checkpoint with forged IDs and dead stares. No questions. No eye contact. Just forward movement, like ghosts.

But inside, the silence cracked.

A soft tap on Emma's shoulder—then a whisper:
"Third corridor. Vending machine. Look for the dent."

She didn't flinch, just blinked once. Message received.

They turned. Walked the hall. Found it.

The dent was there—small, deliberate. Emma tapped twice. The machine clicked, then swung open like a door. Behind it, a narrow passage lit by green emergency strips.

Inside: six figures. Uniforms like the enemy—black tactical gear, rifles, boots—but their eyes weren't cold. They looked like they'd been awake for years.

One stepped forward, pulled off his helmet. Late 30s, scar over his temple, sharp jaw. He studied Emma.

"You're late."

Emma didn't smile. "You're dressed like them."

"Exactly. We move where they don't look twice."

"Who are you?"

"Survivors," he said. "Ghosts. Like you. We've been taking this place apart one floor at a time."

He turned to the others. "You're not here for diplomacy. You're here for war."

Later That Night
They moved in pairs. Silently. Surgical.

The survivors had mapped the whole building: weak spots, blind zones, access to internal servers, sleeping quarters of the guards. Every patrol had a pattern. Every camera had a glitch.

One by one, they made them vanish.

No bullets. No noise. Just blackouts and disappearing bodies. The guards never had time to scream.

Emma took the lead on Floor 9, slicing through the security feed and guiding Noah and another survivor through the hall with hand signals. She didn't kill unless she had to—but when she did, it was fast. Clean.

Noah froze once, knife in hand, staring at a man half-conscious in a chair.

"He looks like my uncle," he whispered.

"He's not," Emma said. "Keep moving."

By dawn, half the Emerald Society's command had been erased.

And they still had three floors to go.