Elena Navarro's breath caught in her throat as the dark SUV idled across the street, its engine a low growl in the early morning quiet. The market's fluorescent lights buzzed behind her, casting her shadow long and sharp on the pavement. Her heart hammered, each beat a reminder of the danger she'd barely escaped, first the crash in the diner's lot, now this.
She ducked behind a stack of crates, her sneakers silent, her hood pulled low. The SUV hadn't moved, but its presence was a warning, tied to the texts. You can't run forever. Pier. Midnight and the stranger who'd demanded the papers at Marcus's door. The papers, proof of a shady land deal, were still hidden in her penthouse drawer, and Julian's words at the diner echoed: It's a cover for something bigger. She clutched the burner phone he'd given her, its weight a lifeline, but she couldn't call him now, not with the SUV so close.
Her car was parked nearby, dented from the earlier crash but still drivable. She needed to get back to the penthouse, grab the papers, and figure out her next move before the midnight deadline. Xander's text about a security breach nagged at her, a mix of worry and suspicion. Was he trying to help, or was he part of the Whitmore machine, like Julian feared? Her fingers brushed the burner phone, and she thought of Julian's eyes, his voice saying, I care what happens to you. Her pulse quickened, a dangerous warmth she couldn't afford. He was off-limits, but he was her only ally.
Elena scanned the street. The SUV's lights were still off, but it hadn't budged. She took a deep breath, channeling the girl who'd snuck out of her family's mansion as a teen, dodging her dad's security to meet friends. She could do this. Keeping low, she moved along the market's edge, using parked vans for cover, until she reached her car. She slid inside, heart racing, and started the engine, keeping the headlights off.
She pulled out slowly, watching the SUV in her rearview. It didn't follow, at least not yet. She merged onto the main road, the city waking around her, delivery trucks rumbling past. Her phone buzzed, and she glanced at it: a reply from Xander. Breach was a hacked camera. Where are you? Not safe. Her stomach twisted. Hacked camera? Was that how they'd gotten the photo of Sofia sleeping? She didn't reply, her distrust of Xander warring with his concern.
The penthouse wasn't far, its glass tower looming as she approached. She parked in the garage, her hands shaky, and checked the burner phone. No new messages from Julian, but his warning about Victoria stuck with her. She's got people everywhere. Elena's old life had been full of powerful people, her dad shaking hands with men like Victoria, but she'd never seen their claws until now. She grabbed a scarf from the car, wrapping it around her face like a makeshift disguise, and headed for the elevator.
The penthouse was silent when she stepped inside, the city's glow filtering through the windows. She moved fast, avoiding the living room where she'd heard the intruder last night. Her bedroom door was still locked, a small relief. She slipped inside, grabbing the envelope from the drawer. The photo and paper felt heavier now, like they carried Sofia's life. She stuffed them into her jacket, her mind racing. Could she trust Julian with them? Or should she take them to the pier herself, risk everything for Sofia?
A soft creak made her freeze. It came from the hallway, faint but deliberate, like someone trying not to be heard. Her heart leapt to her throat. She grabbed a letter opener from the desk, its point sharp enough to hurt, and crept to the door. The penthouse was supposed to be secure, a fortress of wealth, but it felt like a maze of shadows now. She'd lived in places like this as a kid, but they'd never felt so alive with danger.
She eased the door open, letter opener raised. The hallway was dark, but a figure stood at the far end, near Xander's room. Tall, broad shoulders—Xander? She squinted, her breath shallow. "Xander?" she whispered, hoping it was him, dreading it wasn't.
The figure turned, and relief hit her, it was Xander, in a t-shirt and jeans, his face tense. But then she saw his hand, holding a phone, his thumb moving fast, like he was texting someone. "Elena," he said, his voice low, almost startled. "Why are you sneaking around?"
Her grip tightened on the letter opener, hidden behind her back. "I could ask you the same," she said, stepping closer. "You said there was a breach. What's going on?"
He pocketed his phone, his eyes narrowing. "I told you, a camera was hacked. Security's handling it. Where were you? You didn't answer my texts."
His concern sounded real, but her dad's smooth lies had taught her to doubt. The papers in her jacket felt like a bomb, and Julian's warning, he's a Whitmore rang loud. "I needed to clear my head," she lied, her voice steady. "This marriage, this place, it's a lot."
Xander's face softened, just for a second, and he stepped toward her. "I know," he said, quieter. "It's not what I wanted either. But we're stuck, Elena. We have to make it work."
His closeness threw her off, his voice low and raw, like he was letting her see something real. She noticed the stubble on his jaw, the way his t-shirt hugged his chest, and her face warmed. She stepped back, angry at herself. He was her husband, but he was a stranger, maybe a liar. "Work how?" she asked, her tone sharp. "By keeping secrets? Because I'm done with those."
His eyes flickered, like she'd hit something. "What secrets?" he asked, his voice careful now. "If you know something, tell me."
Her heart raced. She wanted to show him the papers, demand the truth about the land deal, about Victoria, about her mom's death. But the texts, the SUV, Sofia's empty bed all screamed no. Before she could answer, her burner phone buzzed in her pocket, loud in the quiet. Xander's eyes dropped to her jacket, his face hardening.
"What's that?" he asked, stepping closer. "You've got another phone?"
Her mouth went dry. She backed toward her room, the letter opener still hidden. "It's nothing," she said, too fast. "Just… a friend."
"A friend," he repeated, not buying it. He reached for her, not aggressive, but firm, like he wanted answers. "Elena, if you're in trouble"
She jerked back, her hand slipping, and the letter opener clattered to the floor. Xander froze, staring at it, then at her, his face a mix of shock and something darker. "What the hell's going on?" he demanded, his voice rising.
Her heart pounded. She wanted to run, to explain, to trust him, but the burner phone buzzed again, insistent. She turned and bolted for her room, slamming the door and locking it before he could follow. Her hands shook as she pulled out the burner. A text from Julian: Get out now. They're coming for you.
Her blood turned to ice. She looked at the door, Xander's shadow moving outside, his voice muffled but angry. "Elena, open the door! We need to talk!"
But then another sound cut through—a loud bang from the living room, like glass shattering. Her heart stopped. Someone else was in the penthouse.