Uncharted 4 Elena Fisher Novels & Stories

He never should have trusted them with a person like Ian. He was still in thought when his phone buzzed, he looked down to see that he had received a text from Ian. Hastily, he opened it and found a video. His heart began thumping as he clicked play. Immediately Elena's face came into view, her lips were torn and bleeding as she screamed. She was hanging freely on a crane that continuously lowered her towards the sea, She wriggled her legs but her hands were tied to the crane that slowly pushed her down. Elena struggled and in the background, Julia laughed.

"The coast guard searched for a week. If Elena survived that fall, she would have had to swim in forty-degree water for over a mile to reach shore. It's not possible." I knelt down at the edge of the pier where Elena had gone over. The water was murky green, and I couldn't see more than a few feet down. "You said yourself she was former special forces. Those people are trained for impossible situations." "Former military, yes. But she's also a forty-something woman who took a fifteen-foot fall onto rocks," Sarah countered. "Chris, I know you want closure for Lyra, but sometimes dead is just dead." I wasn't convinced. Elena had been too calculating, too prepared for everything else. It didn't

Elena, uncomfortable with the attention, decides to take matters into her own hands. Her opportunity comes during a team presentation. Facing a skeptical audience, she delivers an impeccable pitch, showcasing her strategic insights and hard work. The room is stunned into silence, and Elena finally feels vindicated. Elliot, standing at the back of the room, watches her with quiet pride, recognizing her strength. This moment serves as a turning point, as Elena begins to assert herself and reclaim her professional credibility.

However, I noticed that her eyes weren’t stable. ‘Is she drunk?’ [“Max is… Elizabeth’s mate,” she said in the video.] “Huh? What is she doing?” It was then, I heard male voice from the video. [“You mean the Alpha of the Black Lake Pack? Max?”] The chair behind me fell as I stood up in shock. Elaina was caught by a man. And he was… interviewing her about me?! F*ck it. [“Yes, Max. That bastard who left me in the woods.”]

Lyra’s POV “I still can’t believe you turned down Kelvin Clarke,” Maya said for the third time as we worked on mending fishing nets down by the lake. “The man is gorgeous.” “I didn’t turn him down,” I pointed out. “Jadis did.” “Right, but if it had been me…” She fanned herself dramatically with her hand. “Those shoulders, those eyes, that smile.” “Down, girl,” laughed Elena, one of the other unmated females in our age group. “You’re practically drooling.”

“The cameras near the warehouse were damaged, but we recovered footage from the upper checkpoint. You need to see this.” He pressed play. The screen showed the docks at night. Three men were moving near the trucks, their faces blurred by the grainy light. Then, another figure appeared—smaller, standing at a distance, giving instructions. The camera zoomed in. Elena. She was wearing a dark coat, with her hair tied up, her face clear as day. She pointed at the trucks, spoke to the men, and then walked away. A few minutes later, the trucks drove toward the river.

"Didn't mean to crowd you." She shook her head. "It's fine." But her heart was racing. Not from attraction. From something else. Something she couldn't name. --- They worked in silence for a while. The afternoon light shifted, turned gold. Dust motes danced in the sunbeams. Marcus set a large canvas on an easel, stepped back to study it. "This one should be the centerpiece," he said. Elena looked at the painting. It was the woman at the edge of the sea, the one she had started years ago, the one she had finished after the date test. The woman's face was turned toward the horizon. Her shoulders were relaxed. Her hands were open.

Tunde stood on the beach for a long moment, then shook his head and joined—rifle left behind for once. We didn’t talk about the fight. We didn’t plan the next move. We just existed—five scarred souls bobbing in golden water, laughing when someone dunked someone else, floating when the waves demanded it. Elena’s voice crackled over a speaker someone had brought down—patched through the atoll system. “You idiots better not drown. I’m not swimming out there to save you.” “Join us,” I called back, grinning. “Maybe tomorrow. Someone has to watch the feeds.”

‘… dead body on deck’ the voice rang out like a twisted confirmation of everything unraveling. Both of them stilled. Elena’s lips twitched into a dark smile as she leaned in, her voice soft. “Welcome to the shadows, Lorenzo.” *** Elena moved quickly, her mind racing as she approached the edge of the yacht. She scanned the waters below, spotting the search lights growing closer. With a quick inhale, she dove into the waves, letting the cold water wrap around her as she resurfaced, gasping and thrashing like a panicked survivor. “Help!” she screamed, her voice hoarse with desperation. “I fell overboard!”

One line kept sticking out: “Truth isn’t the danger. The silence is.” The deeper I went, the more chaotic it became. Elena knew everything. The trafficking. The bribes. The identities of the men responsible for making girls vanish and children suffer. She had tried to fight it. All on her own. And she left behind a map. On the last page, there was a phrase underlined three times: “Firenze. Carcere di Pietra. Unit 5. Ask for ‘Gianni.’”