The opulent weight of history hung heavy in the air of Holyrood Palace. Tapestries depicting long-dead monarchs, their painted eyes seeming to follow Leo, lined the ancient stone walls. The air, thick with the scent of beeswax and age, did little to settle the churning unease in Leo's stomach. He felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple, despite the cool temperature of the Queen’s Antechamber.

He clutched the small, unassuming USB drive in his pocket. It contained proof, irrefutable evidence, of the betrayal that had almost cost him everything. Betrayal from within the very organization that was supposed to protect him: Project Nightingale.

He'd meticulously followed the breadcrumbs – the leaked intel, the suspiciously timed "coincidences" that led The Serpent straight to his doorstep. Each step had led him here, to this historic landmark, to this specific person: Agent Mallory.

Mallory had been his handler, his confidante, seemingly his only ally within the shadowy organization. She was sharp, efficient, and possessed an air of steely competence that Leo had initially admired. Now, that competence felt chillingly calculated, a mask for something far more sinister.

He'd requested this meeting under the pretense of providing further intelligence on The Serpent's network. He'd known Mallory would come. She was too deeply invested, too close to the flames to resist. He just hoped he was prepared for the fire.

He'd chosen Holyrood Palace deliberately. Its public nature offered a degree of protection. Project Nightingale, for all its clandestine activities, wouldn't risk a public confrontation in such a prominent location. Or so he hoped.

Mallory entered the Antechamber, her footsteps echoing softly on the polished floor. She was dressed in a tailored grey suit, her blonde hair pulled back in a severe bun. She looked every inch the composed government agent. But Leo, with his cursed gift, could see the faint tremor in her hands, the tightened muscles around her jaw, the subtle flicker of fear in her eyes.

"Leo," she said, her voice smooth and professional. "Thank you for meeting me. I understand you have further information regarding The Serpent."

He allowed himself a small, mirthless smile. "Information that I wouldn't trust anyone else with, Mallory. Especially not after what I've discovered."

Mallory's expression remained unchanged, but her eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

He pulled the USB drive from his pocket and held it out. "This contains evidence, irrefutable evidence, that you've been leaking information to The Serpent. That you've been playing both sides, Mallory. But I have to ask, why?"

For a moment, she simply stared at the drive, her silence stretching, taut and suffocating. Then, a slow, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips.

"You've been busy, Leo," she said, her voice now devoid of its earlier warmth. "I'll give you that. But you're still playing in a world you don't understand."

"Explain," Leo demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

Mallory walked towards one of the large, arched windows overlooking the palace gardens. "Project Nightingale," she began, "isn't as clean as you might think. We have our own agendas, our own internal power struggles. The Serpent… she was simply a tool. A means to an end."

"An end of what?"

"Controlling the narrative," Mallory said, turning back to face him. "Maintaining order, or what we perceive as order. Edinburgh is a city steeped in history, but also riddled with corruption. The council, the underworld, even the banks… they're all tangled in a web of deceit. We wanted to clean house, but the traditional methods weren't effective. The Serpent offered a… different approach."

"By sacrificing me?" Leo asked, his voice laced with bitterness. "By using me as bait?"

"Collateral damage," Mallory said, her voice clinical. "You were a means to an end as well, Leo. Your abilities were… unique. We thought we could control you, mold you into an asset. But you became unpredictable. A liability."

"So, you decided to eliminate me?"

"The Serpent was instructed to put you in a position where you would be forced to cooperate fully, or disappear entirely. We underestimated your resilience."

Leo shook his head in disbelief. "You manipulated me, used me, and then tried to have me killed. And you call this maintaining order?"

"Sometimes, the ends justify the means, Leo. You wouldn't understand."

"I understand that you're a liar, a manipulator, and a traitor," Leo spat. "And I'm going to expose you."

Mallory laughed, a cold, brittle sound that echoed in the Antechamber. "You think you can? You think anyone will believe a teenage delinquent with X-ray vision? Project Nightingale has its own ways of burying inconvenient truths."

"Maybe," Leo conceded. "But I have leverage now. I have evidence. And I'm not afraid to use it."

Mallory's hand subtly moved towards her jacket pocket. "Don't be foolish, Leo. You're outmatched. This doesn't have to end badly. Surrender the drive, and we can forget this ever happened. We can even offer you a more… permanent position within the organization."

Leo stared at her, weighing his options. He knew he was taking a huge risk. He was alone, in a secluded part of Holyrood Palace, with a trained government agent who had already proven she was willing to cross any line. But he couldn't back down. He'd come too far, sacrificed too much.

"No," he said, his voice firm. "I'm not surrendering anything. This ends now."

Mallory's hand emerged from her pocket, holding a small, silenced pistol. The metal gleamed menacingly in the soft light.

"I tried to be reasonable, Leo," she said, her voice now devoid of all emotion. "But you've left me no choice."

The tension in the room crackled, as thick and palpable as the static that had given him his powers. Leo knew he had only seconds. He wasn't a fighter. He didn't have any combat training. His only weapon was his vision, and his wits.

He focused, pushing his power to its limit. He saw the intricate workings of the pistol, the hammer cocked back, the bullet chambered. He saw the network of nerves in Mallory's hand, the subtle twitch of her finger on the trigger. And he saw something else, something he hadn't anticipated: a small, metallic device implanted beneath the skin of her wrist. A communication device.

He had to act fast.

Instead of focusing on the gun, he focused on Mallory. He pushed his vision deeper, past her skin, past her muscles, past her bones. He saw her brain, a complex network of electrical impulses, firing rapidly. And he saw something else, something small and dark, nestled within the folds of her cerebral cortex: a tiny microchip.

An implant.

Suddenly, everything clicked into place. Mallory wasn't just betraying him, she was being controlled. She was a puppet, acting on someone else's orders.

He had to disrupt the signal.

He channeled his power, focusing all his energy on the microchip in Mallory's brain. It was a risky move, a desperate gamble. He didn't know what would happen. He could fry her brain, kill her instantly. But he had no other choice.

He unleashed a surge of electromagnetic energy, targeting the microchip. He felt a jolt of pain, a searing headache that threatened to overwhelm him. The air around him shimmered with distortion.

Mallory screamed, dropping the pistol. She clutched her head, her body convulsing violently. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she collapsed to the floor.

Leo staggered back, his head spinning. He felt drained, exhausted, as if he'd run a marathon. He knelt beside Mallory, checking her pulse. It was faint but steady. She was alive. For now.

He picked up the pistol and holstered it in his waistband. He had no intention of using it, but it was better to be safe than sorry. He grabbed the USB drive and walked out of the Antechamber, leaving Mallory unconscious on the floor.

He had survived. He had exposed the traitor. But he knew this was far from over. He had just pulled back the curtain on something far bigger, far more dangerous than he could have ever imagined. And he was now squarely in the crosshairs.