lThe old railway station smelled of rust, rain, and things that should have stayed buried.
Adrian parked the car beneath a broken streetlight. Beyond the windshield, abandoned train cars stretched into the darkness like enormous black coffins.
"Stay close," he ordered.
I glanced at him. "You really need to work on your people skills."
"Not now, Elena."
"Oh, sorry. Is this a bad time to criticize your charming personality?"
He turned toward me, his expression hard. "If you get hurt tonight, I swear—"
"You'll what? Kill everyone?"
"Yes."
I blinked.
He opened his door.
"Unbelievable," I muttered, following him. "You're impossible."
"And yet, here you are."
Unfortunately, he had a point.
We walked between the abandoned carriages, our footsteps crunching over broken glass. Adrian held his gun low beside his thigh, his eyes scanning every shadow. I clutched the brass key inside my coat pocket.
Then a voice echoed through the darkness.
"Adrian Moretti. How touching. You brought the girl."
A man stepped into the light.
Victor Hale.
He looked older than the photograph, his hair silver at the temples, but his smile was exactly the same—cold, calculated, and utterly devoid of warmth.
Behind him, Lucian knelt with his hands tied behind his back. Blood trickled from a cut above his eyebrow. Two armed men stood on either side of him.
"Let him go," Adrian demanded.
Victor laughed. "Still giving orders. Your father did the same thing."
Adrian's jaw tightened. "You killed him."
"I helped create the circumstances of his death. There's a difference."
My stomach twisted.
"You killed my father too," I whispered.
Victor looked at me with something resembling amusement. "Your father was a sentimental fool. He thought he could steal from powerful men and survive simply because he had a daughter to protect."
Adrian moved forward, but I caught his wrist.
"Wait."
Victor's gaze dropped to my hand on Adrian's arm. His smile widened.
"Oh, this is interesting. The great Adrian Moretti taking orders from a woman."
"Enjoy your jokes while you can," Adrian growled.
"Temper, Adrian. You always were your father's son."
"Where's the key?" Victor asked, looking at me.
I pulled it from my pocket but kept it firmly in my palm.
"First, Lucian walks free."
Victor shook his head. "You misunderstand your position, sweetheart. You aren't negotiating."
"Then why haven't you killed us already?"
For the first time, his smile faltered.
I noticed.
And suddenly, I understood something.
Victor didn't want the key because of the money. He wanted whatever was hidden behind the names in those documents. Something that could destroy the people he worked for.
"You're afraid," I said quietly.
His expression darkened. "Careful."
"You've spent six years covering up two murders. You sent men after me, attacked Adrian's estate, and kidnapped his brother. But you still need this key." I raised it slightly. "Whatever it opens, you're terrified of what's inside."
Victor lifted his gun toward me.
Adrian immediately stepped in front of me.
"Point that weapon at her again," he said softly, "and I'll tear this place apart with you inside it."
Victor sighed. "Always the hero. Just like your father."
Then he looked past Adrian.
"Tell her what happened that night."
Adrian went completely still.
My heart began to pound.
"What is he talking about?" I asked.
Victor smiled again.
"Ask your beloved Adrian why your father called his house that night. Ask him why his father went out to meet yours."
I turned toward Adrian.
He wouldn't look at me.
"Adrian?"
Silence.
Victor leaned closer, savoring every second.
"Go on, boy. Tell her who pulled the trigger."
The world seemed to stop.
Adrian finally met my eyes.
And the look on his face shattered something inside me.
Because I had never seen him afraid before.
Until now.
"Elena," he whispered. "Whatever he tells you, you have to let me explain."
My fingers tightened around the key.
"Explain what?"
Behind Victor, one of the guards raised his weapon.
Lucian shouted a warning.
And then the first gunshot rang out.