The storage facility looked almost exactly as I remembered itâthough older now, more worn around the edges. Rows of beige units lined the gravel path, each padlocked and still in the steady drizzle of dawn.Unit C-113 sat in the middle of the third row. My heart pounded as we approached, the key slick with rain in my hand. It slid into the lock with an unnerving ease.The door creaked open slowly, revealing the interior cloaked in shadows and dust. Stacks of boxes, covered furniture, and a rusted file cabinet filled the space. I stepped inside, the smell of mildew and time washing over me.Dorian stayed at the entrance, scanning the perimeter. Leon followed me, flashlight beam sweeping the room.âThis could take hours,â he murmured.I didnât care. I needed to see.We sifted through boxes labeled with old handwritingââWedding Chinaâ, â1989â1995 Taxesâ, âHoliday Ornamentsââuntil Leon stopped suddenly.âMargarette,â he called, pulling aside a tarp.Behind it sat a small, locked safeâbolt
Dawn came in silver slivers through the cracks in the window. I hadnât sleptânot really. My mind was too loud, looping the footage over and over like a broken reel.Leon sat across from me at the table, sipping his coffee like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. Neither of us had said much since the footage. We didnât need to. The truth had cut so deep, it didnât leave room for small talk.But I had questions.And I needed answers.âHow long do you think heâs known I survived?â I finally asked, voice hoarse.Leon didnât look away from his mug. âLong enough to start covering his tracks. But he didnât expect the locket to resurface.âMy hand instinctively reached for it. The locket was warm now, like it had absorbed my grief and fury. Inside was a picture of my mother and meâher arm around my tiny shoulders, her smile soft but tired. A photo I hadnât even remembered until last night.âHe killed her,â I whispered. âHe killed my father. For what? A project?ââNot just a project,â
The sound of footsteps pounding in the hallway was the last thing I heard before the door slammed open.I barely had time to react before a rush of armed men poured into the room, their eyes scanning every corner, landing finally on me. There was no mistaking the intent behind their cold stares.âGet down!â Leonâs voice crackled through the earpiece again, but there was no time to obey. I couldnât allow myself to hesitateânot now, not when the truth was within reach.I raised my gun, my hands steady despite the chaos unfolding around me. I wasnât going down without a fight, not after everything I had lost. Not after everything Eliseâs father had taken from me.Before the first man could react, I fired. The sound of the shot echoed in the confined space, the bullet finding its mark in the manâs chest. His body crumpled to the ground with a sickening thud, but the others didnât hesitate. They moved in faster, their guns drawn, but I was ready.I ducked behind the desk, using it as cover
MARGARETTE'S POVBefore we could react, the door behind us burst open.Three armed men rushed in, dressed in black, their movements precise and rehearsed. Leon shoved me behind him, drawing his gun up in an instant. Dorian, who had been lingering near the entrance, took cover behind a cabinet, gun already out.âEliseâs father wasnât bluffing,â I breathed, my heart hammering. âHe had backup ready.âLeon fired the first shot, catching one of the intruders in the shoulder and sending him crashing to the floor. Chaos erupted. Dorian ducked low and returned fire, narrowly missing another attacker who retaliated with a spray of bullets that shattered the windows.I crouched behind an overturned table, the sound of gunfire drowning out my thoughts. The locket in my palm dug into my skin, its edges sharpâa painful reminder that I couldnât afford to lose control now.âEliseâs father!â I shouted to Leon. âHeâs escaping!âThrough the haze of smoke and broken glass, I saw the man slinking toward
Sunlight crept cautiously through the cracks in the blinds, casting golden slivers across the hardwood floor of the safe house bedroom. I sat curled up on the edge of the bed, a blanket draped around my shoulders and the journal heavy in my lap. The cover was cracked, worn with age and secrets. My fingers hovered over the first page for what felt like an eternity.Leon was nearbyâhe hadnât slept much, either. He stood at the window with a mug of black coffee, watching the world outside with quiet alertness. When I finally opened the journal, he turned slightly but didnât speak. He knew I needed silence for this.The first entry was dated nearly two decades ago.July 14th. We signed the contract today. Two families, one future. The woman from Delmar Holdings is more cunning than I expected. She knows weâre desperateâand she used it. I told Mariana to trust me. That this was the only way. God help me, I hope Iâm right.My breath hitched. Marianaâthat was my motherâs name.I flipped thro
THREE WEEKS LATER...The investigation moved faster than Iâd expected. With the board fully on our side now, the paper trail unraveled like a thread pulled from an old sweaterâeach piece of evidence exposing the next. Shell companies. Forged contracts. Witnesses who had remained silent out of fear but were finally coming forward.Still, no one had seen him since the day of the summit. He had vanished without a trace. No flights. No offshore activity. No messages. It was like heâd disappeared into smoke.But Dorian didnât believe in ghosts. âHeâs hiding,â he said as he handed me a thick folder. âAnd thisâthis will force him out.âI flipped through the documents. Bank records. A property registered under an alias. Hidden deep in the woods outside of Anacortes. I felt my stomach twist.Leon stepped up behind me, his hand grazing my shoulder. âLetâs pay him a visit.âThe cabin was barely more than a shadow tucked between trees. No lights. No car. Just silence and the thrum of insects in t
Next Morning at the Estate Archives. The basement was cold and damp, and the air smelled of mildew and secrets. Old boxes lined the walls, labeled in my fatherâs tidy script. Financial records. Land deeds. Correspondence.Leon sifted through a crate of documents while I dug through another.Then something caught my eye.A faded folder labeled: Project Thornfield.I opened it slowly.Inside were blueprintsâplans for development across coastal land that was supposed to be protected forest. There were signatures from multiple board members, including names I recognized.And then, one I didnât.N. Vallis.Leon leaned over. âYou know that name?âI shook my head. âNo. But look hereâhe signed off on the project two weeks before my parents died.âLeon pulled out his phone. âIâll run a background check.âI kept flipping through the documentsâand found something that made my blood run cold.An aerial photo.Of the cliffside. Our property.With a giant red X drawn over the coordinates where my p
The sound of boots drew closer, pounding the floor with an urgency that echoed through the cavernous halls of the estate. My heart raced as the reality of what I had just heard crashed into me like a tidal wave. The man who had once been a part of my lifeâmy familyâs betrayer, the one who had orchestrated their deathsâstood there, calmly, as if this was just another night for him.Leonâs grip on my hand tightened, but I didnât let him pull me away. I could feel the air thickening with tension, the walls pressing in as everything I thought I knew began to crumble.The intruders were only moments away.The manâheâsmirked, watching us. âYou think this will end well? Youâve no idea what youâre up against. My people are everywhere.âI took a step forward, ignoring Leonâs silent plea to retreat. âYou killed them. And you thought I would be the next one to fall in line?â My voice was a whisper, but it held a power I hadnât realized I had. âYou were wrong.âThe manâs face faltered, just for a
The rain was falling again.It always did on days like thisâdays that felt like endings.I stood on the edge of the cliffs overlooking the stormy waters of Anacortes, my coat pulled tightly around me, the hood shielding my face from the wind that carried the scent of salt and something olderâsomething like goodbye.Leon stood behind me. I didnât have to turn around to feel him there. His presence was familiar now, carved into my skin like muscle memory. Heâd been my gravity, my storm, my salvation, and my ruinâsometimes all at once.âItâs really over, isnât it?â I whispered, more to the wind than to him.He didnât answer right away. His silence was as heavy as the stormclouds above us.âI wanted to fix everything for you,â he said finally, his voice hoarse, like it had been dragged across a battlefield. âI wanted to give you a life that didnât hurt.âI closed my eyes. The ache in my chest pulsed with every beat of my heart. âYou did,â I said. âFor a while, you did.âI heard the crunch
I took a deep breath, steadying myself. âIâm not the same person I was before,â I said, my voice firm, unwavering. âAnd Iâm not walking away this time.âThe manâs eyes flickered with a moment of doubt, just enough for me to catch. And then, before I could even register what had happened, Leon moved.Faster than I could blink, Leon was in front of me, his hand grabbing the gun and twisting it out of the manâs grasp. The force of it sent the man stumbling back, but he didnât go down easily. His bodyguards rushed in, but Leon was already a step ahead, disarming one of them with a swift, calculated move.I stood frozen for a moment, trying to process what I was witnessing. Leonâalways so calm, always so carefulâwas ruthless. He was like a force of nature, determined to protect me at all costs.But the fight wasnât over yet. The man recovered, his eyes burning with rage. âYou really think youâve won?â he spat, his voice dripping with venom. âYouâre nothing but a pawn in a game you canât ev
The sound of boots drew closer, pounding the floor with an urgency that echoed through the cavernous halls of the estate. My heart raced as the reality of what I had just heard crashed into me like a tidal wave. The man who had once been a part of my lifeâmy familyâs betrayer, the one who had orchestrated their deathsâstood there, calmly, as if this was just another night for him.Leonâs grip on my hand tightened, but I didnât let him pull me away. I could feel the air thickening with tension, the walls pressing in as everything I thought I knew began to crumble.The intruders were only moments away.The manâheâsmirked, watching us. âYou think this will end well? Youâve no idea what youâre up against. My people are everywhere.âI took a step forward, ignoring Leonâs silent plea to retreat. âYou killed them. And you thought I would be the next one to fall in line?â My voice was a whisper, but it held a power I hadnât realized I had. âYou were wrong.âThe manâs face faltered, just for a
Next Morning at the Estate Archives. The basement was cold and damp, and the air smelled of mildew and secrets. Old boxes lined the walls, labeled in my fatherâs tidy script. Financial records. Land deeds. Correspondence.Leon sifted through a crate of documents while I dug through another.Then something caught my eye.A faded folder labeled: Project Thornfield.I opened it slowly.Inside were blueprintsâplans for development across coastal land that was supposed to be protected forest. There were signatures from multiple board members, including names I recognized.And then, one I didnât.N. Vallis.Leon leaned over. âYou know that name?âI shook my head. âNo. But look hereâhe signed off on the project two weeks before my parents died.âLeon pulled out his phone. âIâll run a background check.âI kept flipping through the documentsâand found something that made my blood run cold.An aerial photo.Of the cliffside. Our property.With a giant red X drawn over the coordinates where my p
THREE WEEKS LATER...The investigation moved faster than Iâd expected. With the board fully on our side now, the paper trail unraveled like a thread pulled from an old sweaterâeach piece of evidence exposing the next. Shell companies. Forged contracts. Witnesses who had remained silent out of fear but were finally coming forward.Still, no one had seen him since the day of the summit. He had vanished without a trace. No flights. No offshore activity. No messages. It was like heâd disappeared into smoke.But Dorian didnât believe in ghosts. âHeâs hiding,â he said as he handed me a thick folder. âAnd thisâthis will force him out.âI flipped through the documents. Bank records. A property registered under an alias. Hidden deep in the woods outside of Anacortes. I felt my stomach twist.Leon stepped up behind me, his hand grazing my shoulder. âLetâs pay him a visit.âThe cabin was barely more than a shadow tucked between trees. No lights. No car. Just silence and the thrum of insects in t
Sunlight crept cautiously through the cracks in the blinds, casting golden slivers across the hardwood floor of the safe house bedroom. I sat curled up on the edge of the bed, a blanket draped around my shoulders and the journal heavy in my lap. The cover was cracked, worn with age and secrets. My fingers hovered over the first page for what felt like an eternity.Leon was nearbyâhe hadnât slept much, either. He stood at the window with a mug of black coffee, watching the world outside with quiet alertness. When I finally opened the journal, he turned slightly but didnât speak. He knew I needed silence for this.The first entry was dated nearly two decades ago.July 14th. We signed the contract today. Two families, one future. The woman from Delmar Holdings is more cunning than I expected. She knows weâre desperateâand she used it. I told Mariana to trust me. That this was the only way. God help me, I hope Iâm right.My breath hitched. Marianaâthat was my motherâs name.I flipped thro
MARGARETTE'S POVBefore we could react, the door behind us burst open.Three armed men rushed in, dressed in black, their movements precise and rehearsed. Leon shoved me behind him, drawing his gun up in an instant. Dorian, who had been lingering near the entrance, took cover behind a cabinet, gun already out.âEliseâs father wasnât bluffing,â I breathed, my heart hammering. âHe had backup ready.âLeon fired the first shot, catching one of the intruders in the shoulder and sending him crashing to the floor. Chaos erupted. Dorian ducked low and returned fire, narrowly missing another attacker who retaliated with a spray of bullets that shattered the windows.I crouched behind an overturned table, the sound of gunfire drowning out my thoughts. The locket in my palm dug into my skin, its edges sharpâa painful reminder that I couldnât afford to lose control now.âEliseâs father!â I shouted to Leon. âHeâs escaping!âThrough the haze of smoke and broken glass, I saw the man slinking toward
The sound of footsteps pounding in the hallway was the last thing I heard before the door slammed open.I barely had time to react before a rush of armed men poured into the room, their eyes scanning every corner, landing finally on me. There was no mistaking the intent behind their cold stares.âGet down!â Leonâs voice crackled through the earpiece again, but there was no time to obey. I couldnât allow myself to hesitateânot now, not when the truth was within reach.I raised my gun, my hands steady despite the chaos unfolding around me. I wasnât going down without a fight, not after everything I had lost. Not after everything Eliseâs father had taken from me.Before the first man could react, I fired. The sound of the shot echoed in the confined space, the bullet finding its mark in the manâs chest. His body crumpled to the ground with a sickening thud, but the others didnât hesitate. They moved in faster, their guns drawn, but I was ready.I ducked behind the desk, using it as cover
Dawn came in silver slivers through the cracks in the window. I hadnât sleptânot really. My mind was too loud, looping the footage over and over like a broken reel.Leon sat across from me at the table, sipping his coffee like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. Neither of us had said much since the footage. We didnât need to. The truth had cut so deep, it didnât leave room for small talk.But I had questions.And I needed answers.âHow long do you think heâs known I survived?â I finally asked, voice hoarse.Leon didnât look away from his mug. âLong enough to start covering his tracks. But he didnât expect the locket to resurface.âMy hand instinctively reached for it. The locket was warm now, like it had absorbed my grief and fury. Inside was a picture of my mother and meâher arm around my tiny shoulders, her smile soft but tired. A photo I hadnât even remembered until last night.âHe killed her,â I whispered. âHe killed my father. For what? A project?ââNot just a project,â