The Letter

The ocean breeze carried the scent of salt and sand as Jessica poured herself another cup of coffee. The morning in Belize was calm, almost too peaceful after the last few days of uncertainty. The previous night had been filled with laughter, drinks, and an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. But this morning, Jessica sensed the weight in the air—something unspoken hovering over them all.

Leanna sat at the small wooden table in the bungalow, fingers running over a worn envelope. Her expression was unreadable. The others were scattered around the patio, Kevin was stretched out on a lounge chair, Olivia was scribbling notes in a small leather notebook, Ryan was nursing a cup of black coffee, and Hannah sat cross-legged near the fire pit staring out at the waves.

"Leanna," Jessica said, setting down her cup, "you’ve been weirdly quiet since last night. What’s going on?"

Leanna exhaled sharply, tapping the envelope against the table before sliding it forward. "This arrived for me a few weeks ago. I didn’t know what to do with it. Not until now."

Jessica raised an eyebrow. "A letter? That’s... old school."

"Exactly," Olivia interjected, leaning forward. "That’s what makes it interesting. No digital trail. No way to track who sent it. Whoever wrote this didn’t want it intercepted."

Leanna nodded. "It came from Argentina."

Silence settled over them. Jessica felt her chest tighten. Argentina. Project Prometheus. Vanguard.

Slowly, she reached for the envelope, turning it over. The paper was thick, expensive, the kind people used when they wanted to be taken seriously. Inside was a single page, typewritten, with words that sent a chill down her spine:

> You don’t know me, but I know you.
> I was part of what made you who you are.
> There are things you don’t understand—things that were kept from you.
> But it’s not over. Project Prometheus never ended. It only moved.
> If you want to know the truth, come to Buenos Aires.
> I don’t have much time.
> Erasmus Vellum wasn’t the beginning, and you are not the end.
> Find me before they do.

Jessica swallowed hard, staring at the words. "Is this real?"

"I’ve been checking into it," Olivia said, flipping through her notebook. "There are no direct references to a whistleblower, but Vanguard Biotechnics has a shell corporation in Buenos Aires. They’ve been shipping ‘biological materials’ to a remote facility in Patagonia. No clear records, no oversight. Someone’s funding something big."

Kevin rubbed his face. "And you’re sure this isn’t a trap?"

"We don’t know anything for sure," Olivia admitted. "But whoever sent this… they knew about Erasmus Vellum. They knew about Jess. That’s not common knowledge."

Jessica stared at the letter, her mind racing. You are not the end. That meant there were others.

Leanna leaned forward. "We have to go."

Jessica shook her head. "You don’t know what you’re asking."

"I do. And so do you."

The words hit hard. Jessica clenched her jaw, looking away. "I don’t want to go back to this. To running. To being hunted."

"Then don’t run," Olivia said. "We go smart. We investigate first. Buenos Aires is a big city, there’s no reason to assume they know we’re coming. If we’re careful, we can find this person, get information, and walk away."

Jessica glanced at Ryan, who had been unusually quiet. He was staring into his coffee, expression unreadable. When he finally looked up, his voice was calm but firm. "And if it’s a setup?"

"Then we leave," Olivia said simply. "But if there’s even a chance that they’re still experimenting on people, can we really ignore it?"

Jessica exhaled slowly. She could feel it creeping in—the part of her that never truly left, the part that had wanted to burn Vanguard to the ground all those years ago.

Kevin spoke up, arms crossed. "I think this is insane. But if you’re doing this, I’m not letting you go alone."

Hannah sighed, rubbing her temples. "I hate this. I hate every part of this."

"You don’t have to come," Jessica told her.

Hannah scoffed. "Like I’d let you idiots run off and get yourselves killed? Someone has to keep you from doing something reckless."

Jessica looked down at the letter again. She ran her fingers over the rough texture of the paper before folding it neatly and slipping it back into the envelope. She already knew her answer. She had known it the moment she read the words.

"We leave for Argentina in three days."

The decision was made. And there was no turning back.