Uncharted 4 Elena Fisher Novels & Stories

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.’”

“And there’s another woman. Elena Lev. He’s been scheming with her, but I don’t know what she has against me. I just know she’s in whatever he's planning.” For my safety and that of Raina, we must have whatever Elena has, because she ends up exposing me. Mr. Everhart’s face remained unreadable, an expression carved from stone. Even when I spoke of Zara’s murder, not a single muscle in his face moved. His silence terrified me more than his anger ever could. “I’ll take care of it, the video will never see the light of day…” Mr. Everhart said, his voice measured. “Thank you,” I breathed.

Elena flicked a look around the sill and saw them: three at the crates, one at the door, another at the window, all with that northeastern jagged edge in their stance that whispered mercenary. She pulled a matchbook from her pocket—Serafina’s from the glasshouse, citrus pressed in ink—and slid one match free. She snapped it without lighting and the sound masked the small click of the backdoor latch when the biker popped it with a tool. “Ten minutes,” she breathed. “We move the blue crates to the dock, toss the decoy overboard, leave the real in the skiff. We feed them what they think they want and buy ourselves a night.”

Final. We sprinted toward the back of the boathouse, stepping over bodies—two groaning, one unconscious, all bleeding. Elena shoved open the emergency hatch that led to the narrow outside ledge above the water. Wind slapped my face. The night air tasted like diesel and salt. Below us, tied beneath the dock’s shadow, was Elena’s smallest personal boat—nearly silent, quick, built for speed. She pulled me toward it. A gunshot cracked behind us. Wood splintered inches from my head.

Kicking and punching myself, the tears from my eyes started flowing uncontrollably. I wish I could turn back the time where I was on that store, where I told my mom everything I knew about him. Maybe I could help myself from getting out of this mess we never wanted. With all the strength I still possess, I went to my desk and opened my laptop. Adrenaline rushed through my system as my fingers tapped every letter of my email account, clicking as if it is the end of the world. Just when I was about to open my email to cancel my manuscript, I froze upon seeing a message coming from the editors. At that moment, I knew I messed up so bad. I'm supposed to be happy right now.

The untraceable accounts. Had it all been leading to this? She closed her eyes. There was no turning back. She would find Damien. And if the truth shattered her? So be it. The journey to the island was anything but easy. Using cash and false IDs, Elena boarded a cargo ship headed to Indonesia, then transferred onto a smuggler’s vessel through the Pacific. She was no longer the pampered heiress who once sipped wine at Milan fashion shows. She was a woman on a mission, a woman in love with a man caught in the storm of her family’s lies.

I stared at my palms, as I stood at the river bank and screamed at the top of my lungs to the heavens, folding into a ball as I cried. I lost everything, everything... It was there they found me, broken beyond repair, a small piece, of a giant puzzle. They call themselves, the Elites. But all I wanted to do was cry, I just wanted to cry...

Emily added before walking off, heels clicking with authority as if she was talking to her younger one. Lucas had already graduated with a degree in accounting and worked at their father’s firm. But numbers were never his true passion—cooking was. So, behind his father’s back, he had enrolled in a part-time culinary program. His final exams were starting today, and he was determined to finish strong. Only Emily and her best friend Diana knew his secret.