My back hurt badly and the skin around my temple was still bleeding, but I didn't care. My mind was fixed on one sentence on the laptop screen: "The traitor is in BIN, and he's closer than you think." The line stabbed at me and felt like a serious threat aimed directly at me, making my stomach churn instantly. This warehouse had just been the scene of a brutal fight, but those three people had vanished without a trace. The silence that remained felt far more terrifying than the ear-splitting gunshots. Who exactly was that third, very mysterious man, and why did he disappear so quickly after the power came back on, as if he didn't want his face seen?
The strange symbol on my right palm felt scorching hot now, emitting a faint reddish glow in the dim warehouse light. It felt like something strange moving from my skin to my bones, reminding me of the night Aisyah was kidnapped — that pain was a warning I could no longer ignore. I immediately shut the laptop, pulled the flash drive from my pants pocket, and shoved it into the pocket of my dirty, torn hoodie. I had to get out of here right now; every second wasted meant a smaller chance Aisyah would survive, and I wasn't going to risk that.
The steel door, which had been opened slightly, felt cold under my trembling hand when I touched it. I looked out toward the dark alley damp with morning dew; the atmosphere was silent and tense. The eastern sky had just begun to blush, casting a faint orange light that made this old factory-warehouse feel even lonelier, like all the madness earlier had been a hallucination.
I stepped out, gripping the rusty iron bar that had been my weapon, my gaze sweeping every corner of the alley, searching for shadows or any other sign of danger that might still be lurking. I had to be extra careful because I knew they would still be around this area, hiding.
I walked slowly, forcing myself not to make a sound, trying to read every scratch on the dirty, wet asphalt beneath my feet. But my eyes, still sore from the sudden neon light earlier, lost focus and I had to struggle to control my vision. Suddenly my right eye caught something odd on the grimy asphalt, about two meters from the warehouse door I'd opened — it was clearly not an ordinary scrape. There was a small bloodstain there, no bigger than a hundred-rupiah coin; its dark red stood out sharply against the grayish cement. The blood wasn't mine — my wound had dried and stopped bleeding.
The blood led to the left, toward a narrow, very dark turn in the alley, flanked by stacks of used burlap sacks and a two-meter-high rusted corrugated fence — clearly an escape route. I became certain right away: this was a trail left by one of them, maybe the masked man I'd bashed who had a backpack, or the man whose head I'd kicked. Damn — they'd been wounded, which meant I had managed to injure them badly enough, and a little of my confidence returned.
I needed to know where this blood led; it might be a valuable clue I could follow to track them down. Maybe it would bring good news.
I decided immediately to follow the trail. My steps quickened, and the pain in my body faded into the background, drowned out by adrenaline and mounting curiosity. The blood spots appeared again, more numerous and clearer on the ground, as if the wounded person had lost a lot of blood — that was a good sign. I had to catch up to them before they disappeared completely into the maze of narrow, crowded alleys surrounding this warehouse complex.
The alley grew narrower and more suffocating; a sharp, metallic smell of blood hit my nose strongly. That scent mixed with the stench of wet garbage and a clogged drain, which was disgusting enough to make me want to vomit. I covered my mouth and nose with my arm, trying to hold back the nausea while still moving quickly forward — I couldn't stop. At the end of the alley I saw a dark shape lying between two concrete walls grown with moss, not moving at all, looking like a pile of dirty rags.
I gripped the rusty iron bar tightly and crept closer with very slow steps; my heart hammered in my chest. Its beat seemed to shatter the silence of the narrow passage. It was clearly a human body, slumped against the wall in an odd position, head bowed, blood pooling on the asphalt around it. His right hand still clenched something small and squared — a shiny silver object.
When I stood directly in front of him I knew immediately who he was: one of the masked men who had attacked me earlier, the one who'd tried to stab me. His black cloth mask had slipped down to his neck, revealing a very pale face, eyes wide open and empty, blood streaming from the corner of his mouth. There was a deep, gaping stab wound in his left chest as if someone had plunged a long, sharp knife into him — not a gunshot wound or a mark from me hitting him with the iron.
I examined the wound and felt a wave of nausea, then I noticed a tattoo there, right above the fatal stab wound, and I suddenly understood. It was a very familiar, menacing symbol I'd seen before — a black circle with three sharp wings encircling it: the Korpora emblem. Damn — he was a low-level courier for Korpora, the brutal network that controlled the human organ black market in Southeast Asia.
"Who… did this to you, you bastard?" I asked in a hoarse voice, a bit of confusion rising — not from pity but because this felt so strange. I crouched slowly and pointed the tip of the iron bar at his neck to make sure he wasn't faking, and my breath caught when his chest moved slightly. He was still alive, but only for a few seconds; his breaths were shallow and ragged.
The man attempted to lift his heavy head; his empty eyes stared straight at me, full of pain and deep fear, as if he had just seen something horrible. He tried to speak but only a hoarse, shaky sound came from his blue lips, barely audible — I had to press my ear to his mouth. This was my last chance to get information; I couldn't waste it.
"This was… a big… trap…" he said, his voice nearly gone, laden with regret, then he coughed violently, spewing more fresh blood onto the ground.
"You're not talking clearly, you idiot! What trap? Who stabbed you, huh? Was it that third man who ran earlier?" I demanded, my voice low and sharp, trying to intimidate him into speaking faster. I didn't care about his pain; I only wanted to know who had betrayed them, and how all this connected to Aisyah and Andaru.
He gave a faint, thin smile, a grin full of mockery and despair; his eyes welled up as if he were recalling an old, painful trauma. Then he exhaled a long, heavy breath and managed to utter his final, stuttering words, words that stopped my heart.
"Andaru… already knew… too much… He… wasn't the traitor… but a victim… like you…" he whispered, then his eyes closed completely, his body went limp, and his breath ceased, leaving that metallic stench of blood in my nostrils. Andaru wasn't a traitor? A victim? Everything I thought I knew shattered; all my convictions crumbled.
I rose, frozen beside the corpse, confusion and rage mixing inside me until my head spun. Why did that man speak like that? Was the message on the laptop not from Andaru but from someone else manipulating us — someone far more evil? This all felt like a cruel joke, and I felt played from beginning to end; I was furious.
Suddenly my right eye landed on the thin man's right hand, still gripping a silver flash drive — exactly the same one I'd stolen from the warehouse earlier. The drive was covered in blood, gleaming in the dim morning light as if it were very important to them. My heart pounded. I knelt and tried to take the flash drive, but his grip was strong, as if he wanted to take it to his grave.
I shivered, feeling the cold, stiff skin as I pried his dead fingers off, making me sick. The nausea rose again but I managed to hold it back; I pulled the flash drive from his hand and wiped it a little on my pants, ignoring the dirty blood stains. This drive must contain all of Andaru's secrets he hadn't managed to reveal — the last piece of the puzzle. I had to open it immediately.
Damn — if Andaru was a victim, not a traitor, then the person who killed him and kidnapped Aisyah was the same person, someone inside BIN. They were very powerful people within BIN, watching my every move, forcing me to rethink who I could trust. I had to power the laptop back on now; I didn't have time to wait.
I turned to run back toward the warehouse, but I froze. Footsteps sounded clearly from the end of the narrow alley: heavy, hurried steps, like two people running toward me, as if they already knew I was here. They must have come back to retrieve the flash drive, or to make sure I was dead. I braced for another fight.
I gripped the iron bar and the bloody flash drive tightly, standing beside the blood-covered corpse, rage and vengeance burning through me. I would not run again; I had lost too much, and they would pay for it no matter the risk. Two black shadows appeared from around the alley's bend, moving fast toward me — they didn't waste time.
I shouted at the top of my lungs; my hoarse, anger-filled yell echoed through the narrow alley, shattering the oppressive silence as if I were daring everyone to die. I readied myself to attack, but as the shadows drew near I froze; my heart dropped and my breath caught.
They weren't two masked men. What ran toward me was a woman, breathless, tears soaking her panic-stricken, pale face. She wore a dirty satin nightdress, her hair a mess, her eyes filled with deep fear as if she had seen something terrible. The woman's face was painfully familiar; there was no mistake.
"Gamali! Don't! They know you're here!" she screamed, desperation in her voice, mixed with the voice of a man behind her, who was gripping a large, bloody folding knife. The woman ran straight at me as if to shield me, and I couldn't move — I was too stunned to believe what I saw.
It was… Aisyah.
She had managed to escape her kidnappers, but she ran right into the danger waiting before her. I threw the iron bar and started to run to her, but the second man caught up to Aisyah, yanking her hair hard from behind, and the folding knife was pressed to her throat.
"Damn it, don't move, Gamali, or this brat's neck gets cut!" the second man shouted, his voice triumphant and cold; he meant it.
Aisyah screamed in pain, her eyes pleading at me, a look that shattered all my anger and hatred.
I had to choose: the flash drive with Korpora's secrets, or Aisyah's life right in front of me. I clenched the bloody flash drive, feeling weak, and all my revenge plans crumbled — nothing else mattered. Aisyah's pale face was all that mattered now; I couldn't let her die.
"Let her go, you bastard! Take this flash drive, but release Aisyah now!" I shouted, my voice trembling with desperation and defeat. I wouldn't let her die in front of me.