جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 100

Nadia’s POV“Move.”Sebastian says it once; that is enough. The two black SUVs are already rolling through the cemetery gate, tires crushing gravel, headlights cutting across the stones like they own the dead too.Aurora grabs the notebooks. I take the thin file and the locket. Sebastian reaches for the cardboard box, then thinks better of it and leaves it. Good. We have what matters.Clara says, “Back path.” Vane says, “No.” No one listens to him. Good. For the first time in my life, I am done listening to men who call me a subject and think that makes me smaller. We run, not toward the front.Behind the rows of stones, past the narrow chapel wall, and through wet grass that grabs at my shoes and nearly turns my ankle on the first three steps. Aurora is ahead of me. Sebastian just behind. Clara is moving faster than I expected. Vane slower. Arthur is nowhere near us because, of course, Arthur is not here. Wrong old traitor.The SUVs stop, doors slam, voices too many. “Split and cover

Aurora’s POV“You can’t open that box without the phrase.”The bank manager says it like she’s already tired of us.We are in a private room in the basement of Crown Union Bank. Grey carpet. No windows. One metal table in the middle. One safe deposit drawer was already pulled halfway out because the brass key worked but not enough to release the inner lock.Sebastian stands to my right. Nadia is to my left. Arthur and Megan are behind us near the door. The manager, Mrs. Dorian, according to the neat silver badge on her jacket, is watching all of us like families like ours never bring anything good into quiet rooms.“The phrase,” she repeats. “Verbatim.” Nadia looks at me. I look at her. The whole night seems to narrow down to one stolen name. She swallows once, then says, “Nadine.” Nothing happens. My stomach drops so fast I hate myself for letting hope rise that high.Mrs. Dorian doesn’t blink. “Full phrase.” Of course Elena wouldn’t leave us something that simple.Sebastian says, “T

Aurora’s POV“That photograph shouldn’t exist.” No one speaks, not Arthur, not Sebastian, not Nadia, not even Mrs. Dorian, who has spent the last ten minutes giving us one measured answer after another like the world is still the kind of place that can be handled politely. I hold the photo up again.Arthur. Victoria. Damien. Lucas. Outside my building. Three weeks before I died, Three weeks before a death that has not happened in this life. My hand tightens. “This meeting never happened,” I say. “Not yet. Not in this timeline.” That lands hard.Sebastian is the first to move. He takes the photo from me, studies it again, then flips it over to the line in Elena’s hand. This is when the decision was made. His jaw tightens.Arthur looks at the picture and, for the first time all night, truly looks lost. “I never saw this.” Good, because if he had, I might have hit him with the nearest chair. “You’re sure?” Nadia asks him.“Yes.” His voice is rough. “I knew the meeting happened in the fir

Aurora’s POV“You think he’ll listen?”Nadia asks it as soon as the car turns onto Mercer Street. I know who she means.Sebastian. The man I just told to stay out of Elena’s studio unless I miss two check-ins or ask for help. The man whose face gave nothing away except the exact kind of silence that usually means he is already deciding how much of my instruction he intends to obey. “No,” I say. That makes Nadia almost smile. Almost. “Then why say it?”Because I need one thing today that belongs to me and not to his family, because if the messenger wants me and my sister, then I need to know whether this truth can stand on its own before a Reed name steps in and rearranges the room, because every time Sebastian is near me, the world feels less simple and more survivable, and I do not know yet whether that is a gift or a weakness. I don't say any of that. “Because I wanted him to hear it,” I say instead. Fair enough.Nadia looks out the window. “You trust him.” Not a question. I grip th

Aurora’s PO“Don’t answer.”Nadia says it fast. I wasn’t going to. The burner is still in my hand. The red folder is under my arm. The ledger and forms are with Nadia. The tape recorder is in my bag. Every piece suddenly matters too much and somehow also not enough.Damien knocks again. Lighter this time. Like he’s trying to sound reasonable. I know that knock. I know the version of him behind it.The one that smiles while deciding what to take. “We know you’re in there,” he says through the door. “Sebastian’s men aren’t subtle.” That gets my attention. I text back fast, How many?The reply comes from Sebastian before I can count to two. Three with Damien. One by the stairwell. I have eyes on all. Do not open. Good. One useful man, one dangerous name, still unresolved.The room is too still. Nadia is by the drafting table now, already looking for another exit she knows isn’t there. Good instinct anyway. “Window?” she whispers.“Third floor.” “Better than Damien.” Fair. I move to the s