The USB drive felt like ice in Elara's palm as she followed Kael through the maze of warehouses that lined Pier 17. Rain had started falling again, soft at first but quickly building into a steady downpour that soaked through her jacket and sent rivulets of water running down the rusted metal walls around them.
"This way," Kael said, his voice cutting through the sound of the rain. He turned down a narrow alley between two buildings, his footsteps silent on the wet concrete despite his size. Elara hurried to keep up, her own shoes splashing in small puddles.
At the end of the alley stood a door set into the brick wall of an old warehouse. Kael produced a key from his pocket and unlocked it, holding the door open for her. Inside, the air was warm and dry, smelling of wood, oil, and something metallic that made her stomach twist slightly.
"Welcome to my base of operations," he said, flipping on a switch that bathed the large room in warm yellow light.
Elara's eyes widened as she took in her surroundings. The space was filled with computer monitors, stacks of files, and maps of Blackwater City pinned to every wall. Wires crisscrossed the ceiling like spiderwebs, and in the corner, a small team of people worked quietly at their desks, barely glancing up as they entered.
"Everyone here is loyal to me," Kael said, noticing her hesitation. "They've all lost someone to the men we're fighting. They know what's at stake."
He led her to a desk in the center of the room, clearing off a space for her laptop. "Plug in the drive. I want you to see everything before we decide our next move."
Elara set up her computer and inserted the USB. The files that appeared made her blood run cold—spreadsheets showing millions of dollars in bribes, photographs of city officials meeting with known criminals, even video footage of a meeting where they'd discussed "eliminating" anyone who got in their way. Names she'd seen in headlines, faces she'd seen on television—all of them were there, tangled up in a web of corruption that stretched deeper than she'd ever imagined.
"They've been planning to take over the city's water supply," she said, reading through a document on the screen. "They want to raise prices so high only the wealthy can afford clean water."
"Profit isn't their only goal," Kael said, leaning against the desk beside her. "Their leader—Victor Thorne—wants to turn Blackwater into his own personal kingdom. He's already bought off half the police force and most of the city council. In six months, he'll have complete control."
"Why haven't you stopped him?" Elara asked, turning to look at him. "You have the power, the resources—"
"I've been waiting for the right moment." His gaze was fixed on the screen, his jaw tight. "Thorne is careful. He never leaves loose ends. If I move too soon, he'll disappear and rebuild his empire somewhere else. I need to make sure when I take him down, he can never come back."
A sudden commotion at the door made them both turn. A young man with dark hair and panicked eyes burst into the room.
"Kael! They found us—Thorne's men are on their way here. They must have tracked your phone when you called the journalist."
Kael's expression didn't change, but Elara saw the way his hand moved instinctively to the gun tucked into his waistband. "How many?"
"At least twenty. They're armed."
"Evacuate everyone through the back exit," Kael ordered, his voice calm and steady despite the urgency of the situation. "Take the hard drives and destroy anything we can't carry. Maria, you go with them—make sure everyone gets to the safe house."
The team moved with practiced efficiency, gathering their equipment and heading for a door in the far corner of the room. Kael turned to Elara, his steel-gray eyes holding hers.
"You need to go with them."
"No," she said firmly, closing her laptop and sliding it into her bag. "I'm not leaving you."
"This isn't a choice," he said, his voice sharp with urgency. "Thorne's men won't hesitate to kill you just for being here."
"And if I leave, they'll know you're working with me anyway." She stood her ground, meeting his gaze without flinching. "I'm part of this now. Let me help."
Kael stared at her for a long moment, then nodded once. "Stay behind me. Do exactly as I say."
He pulled out his gun—a sleek black pistol—and checked the magazine. Elara reached into her pocket and pulled out her recorder, then hesitated before setting it on the desk. She'd come here for a story, but right now, survival was more important.
The sound of breaking glass echoed through the warehouse, followed by shouts and the crack of gunfire. Kael grabbed Elara's arm and pulled her behind a large metal cabinet, pressing her back against the wall.
"Stay down," he whispered, peering around the edge of the cabinet. Three men in black tactical gear were moving through the main door, their guns raised.
Kael fired twice—two clean shots that took down the first two men before they could react. The third dove for cover behind a stack of crates, returning fire. Bullets ricocheted off the metal cabinet above Elara's head, sending sparks flying.
She pressed her eyes shut for a moment, her heart hammering against her ribs. When she opened them again, Kael was moving, low to the ground, firing as he went. Another man fell, but more were pouring through the door now.
"We can't hold them here," Kael said, dropping back beside her. He grabbed her hand—his fingers were strong and calloused, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the chaos around them. "The back exit is blocked. We'll have to go up to the roof."
He led her through a side door and up a narrow metal staircase, bullets whizzing past them as they climbed. On the roof, the rain was coming down harder than ever, reducing visibility to just a few feet. Kael pulled her toward the edge, where a fire escape led down to an alley behind the warehouse.
"Jump when I say," he said, positioning himself beside her.
Below them, more of Thorne's men were pouring into the alley. Kael fired three shots, taking down two of them before pulling Elara over the edge. They landed hard on the wet pavement, Kael rolling to absorb the impact and pulling her with him.
"Run," he ordered, taking her hand again and pulling her through the maze of alleys. They ran for what felt like hours, the sound of sirens and gunfire fading behind them as they moved deeper into the city's industrial district.
Finally, Kael stopped at a small brick building tucked away between two larger warehouses. He pulled out another key and unlocked the door, pulling Elara inside and bolting it behind them.
They were in a small apartment—sparse but clean, with a single bed, a table, and a small kitchen. Kael released her hand and leaned against the door, breathing heavily. His white shirt was stained with blood—whether his or someone else's, Elara couldn't tell.
"You're hurt," she said, moving toward him.
"It's just a graze," he said, waving her off, but he winced as he pressed his hand to his shoulder.
Elara ignored him and moved to the bathroom, returning with a first aid kit she'd spotted under the sink. "Sit down," she said firmly, pointing to the chair by the table.
To her surprise, he obeyed, sitting down and pulling off his shirt to reveal a deep cut across his left shoulder. Elara cleaned the wound carefully, her hands steady despite the fact that she was inches away from his bare skin. He was built like a warrior—hard muscle and scars covering almost every inch of his torso, each one a story of violence and survival.
"Why did you help me?" she asked, pressing a bandage to his shoulder. "You could have left me at the warehouse. It would have been easier for you."
Kael was silent for a long moment, staring at the wall across from him. "When I was sixteen, after my parents died, a journalist tried to tell their story. Thorne found out and had him killed. His family too." He turned to look at her, his steel-gray eyes softening for just a moment. "I won't let that happen to you. Not if I can help it."
Elara's heart twisted at his words. This was the man everyone called dangerous, cold, ruthless—and yet here he was, risking his life to protect her.
"What do we do now?" she asked.
Kael stood up, pulling on a clean shirt from a drawer beside the bed. "Now, we stop running. Thorne made a mistake coming after us like this—he showed his hand. It's time we showed him ours."
He walked to the window and looked out at the rain-soaked city, his jaw set with determination. "Tomorrow morning, we strike back. And this time, we won't hold anything back."