Chapter 63: The Hourglass Runs

The flash drive beeped again, sharp and insistent, slicing through the silence of the penthouse like a warning siren. One hour. One hour to decide. Or everything would burn.

I sank into the edge of the chair, gripping it so tightly my knuckles turned white. My mind raced in all directions at once, but the one thing that refused to bend was the certainty that I had to act. I couldn’t run. I couldn’t hesitate. Not now.

Elliot paced, his long strides echoing across the polished floor. “We don’t have time to plan,” he muttered, voice tight, strained. “We move, we act, we control what we can.”

“And if we fail?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

He froze. His jaw clenched. “We don’t fail.”

I swallowed, unsure if I wanted to believe him or if that was just the lie I needed to cling to.

Marcus appeared then, moving quickly but quietly, his gaze scanning every shadow, every reflective surface. “She’s watching. The entire time. Security cameras. Drones. Maybe even microphones hidden in the walls. She knows every move we make.”

“And yet,” I whispered, almost to myself, “she wants me to choose.”

“Exactly,” Marcus said grimly. “She’s testing you. Proving what she already knows how far you’ll go for your sister, for Elliot, for control. And she knows you’ll go far.”

I looked down at the flash drive again. It wasn’t just a piece of metal. It was a weapon. A key. A truth that could destroy everything she had planned, or a tool she could use to manipulate everyone I loved.

Elliot crouched in front of me, grabbing my hands gently. “Listen to me,” he said, his dark eyes searching mine. “We protect her first. Then we think about leverage. We can’t do both at once. She will try to divide us, manipulate us, make us doubt each other. Don’t let her.”

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I… I won’t.”

“You will,” Marcus said softly. “Because fear is natural. Doubt is inevitable. But it’s how you act when those feelings rise that matters.”

I felt a shiver run down my spine. He was right. Fear clawed at me from every angle. But I had to control it. I had to focus.

We moved quickly, Elliot leading, Marcus covering our backs, Liam guarding the perimeter from outside. Every step felt like walking on a knife’s edge, every shadow a threat. The hotel was quiet now, eerily so, as if it had swallowed the chaos we knew waited outside.

The elevator ride down to the street felt like an eternity. I pressed my hand to my chest, feeling the wild beat of my pulse, my thoughts a chaotic storm. What would happen if I failed? If the flash drive was compromised? If she captured me completely?

I pushed the fear down, deep into the pit of my stomach. I had to focus. I had to survive.

When the doors opened, the cool night air hit us, bracing and sharp. The city was alive, indifferent to our struggles. People passed by, unaware of the storm that raged just steps away.

Elliot led us quickly down a side alley, avoiding main streets, his eyes scanning constantly. Marcus and Liam flanked me, their presence steadying, reassuring, but I knew even their vigilance might not be enough.

And then I saw her.

She was leaning casually against a black SUV, her posture relaxed, almost casual but I knew better. She was in control. Always in control.

“Welcome,” she said softly, voice carrying across the alley. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d really come.”

I tightened my grip on the flash drive. “I’m here,” I said evenly. “Let’s end this.”

She laughed lightly, the sound carrying a dangerous undertone. “End this? My dear, we’re just beginning. But you… you get to play the first hand.”

She motioned to the SUV. “Get in.”

My stomach dropped. “No.”

She tilted her head, smiling. “Oh, I think you’ll find it very comfortable. And very enlightening.”

Elliot’s hand went to my arm, gripping it tightly. “Don’t,” he warned.

“I’m going,” I said firmly. “But we do this on my terms.”

She laughed softly again, moving aside just enough to allow me to step forward. I glanced at Elliot. His jaw was tight, his gaze heavy, but he didn’t stop me. Not yet.

As I opened the door to the SUV, I realized that every heartbeat was loud, every breath counted. Every move was observed. And every choice… every step… carried the weight of everyone I loved.

Inside, the SUV smelled faintly of leather and perfume her perfume. She was seated across from me, legs crossed, eyes shining with amusement and malice.

“You’re brave,” she said. “And beautiful. I almost admire that. Almost.”

I didn’t respond. I kept my eyes on the flash drive, my only shield, my only leverage.

“Do you know why I’m doing this?” she asked suddenly.

“Yes,” I said quietly. “To test me. To control me. To punish me.”

She smiled slowly, deliberately. “Partly. But more than that… to show you the consequences of letting others decide for you. To see if you’ll survive your choices. And to see if you’ll protect what matters most, even when it’s dangerous… even when it costs you everything.”

I swallowed hard. “I will survive.”

“You hope,” she said. “But hope is fragile. And tonight, hope has a price.”

The SUV moved smoothly into the street, weaving through traffic. My hands gripped the flash drive so tightly that it hurt, knuckles white. Every red light felt like a countdown, every car that passed a potential ambush.

I glanced at her. She was calm, elegant, terrifying. The embodiment of control.

And I realized then, with a chill crawling up my spine, that the next hour every minute, every second would decide the course of our lives forever.

The beeping of the flash drive continued, a relentless reminder that time was running out, that a choice had to be made… and that one wrong move could ignite a fire that nothing could contain.

The SUV slowed abruptly. I braced myself as she turned to me, eyes gleaming.

“Your choice,” she whispered. “Open it. Or don’t. But know this… the hourglass isn’t forgiving.”

And at that moment, the flash drive beeped louder. A countdown. A timer I hadn’t noticed before.

59 minutes remaining.

I had one hour. One hour to make a choice. One hour to survive.

And I realized… one hour wasn’t nearly enough.