Chapter 5 - The Master’s Study
By midnight, sleep had proven entirely impossible. The rhythmic crash of the Atlantic waves against the cliffs below my window mimicked the heavy footfalls that had tormented me in the apartment building, but the phantom dread of Viktor Vance’s men kept my nerves stretched tight as piano wire.
I slipped out of bed, wrapped a dark wool cardigan over my pajamas, and crept quietly out into the hallway.
The second floor was quiet, illuminated only by the faint, silver moonlight spilling through the arched Gothic windows. Drawn by a restless curiosity, I wandered down the corridor toward the east wing, where the massive double doors of the estate’s private library stood slightly ajar.
A single pool of amber light glowed from within.
I peeked through the crack. Kalin sat behind a massive mahogany desk, his jacket discarded, his shirtsleeves rolled up to reveal the dark, intricate tattoos wrapping around his forearms. He was staring intensely at a computer screen while holding a secure satellite phone to his ear.
"...if Vance makes a move toward the gallery, intercept him before he crosses the district line," Kalin was saying, his voice a low, lethal hum. "I want every access point secured. She stays inside the perimeter."
My breath caught in my throat. I shifted my weight, and an old floorboard beneath my slipper let out a sharp, betraying creak.
In a fraction of a second, Kalin was out of his chair. The heavy oak doors swung wide open before I could step back, revealing him standing there, his gray eyes flashing with instant alertness that melted into cold surprise when he saw me standing in the shadows.
"Elena," he said, lowering the phone.
"I couldn't sleep," I whispered, feeling suddenly exposed in my oversized cardigan and flannel pajama pants. "The security... the men outside... it’s a bit much for someone who just wanted a quiet night of sleep."
Kalin looked at me for a long moment, the harsh tension in his shoulders slowly easing. He stepped aside, gesturing toward the warm, book-lined sanctuary behind him.
"Insomnia is a poor companion," he said quietly. "Come inside. It's warmer than the corridor."
I hesitated, then stepped past him into the library. The air smelled of old leather, cedarwood, and rich espresso.
"You're tracking Vance," I stated, looking at the glowing monitors displaying traffic feeds and security camera layouts across Providence.
"He thinks he can leverage your father's ghost to force the Rossi Gallery into laundering his smuggled antiquities," Kalin said, walking over to a small side table and pouring a cup of hot tea, which he handed to me. "Your father left behind a digital signature on a series of encrypted shipping manifests. Vance believes the decryption key is hidden inside one of the restoration projects currently sitting in your lab."
I took the warm cup, my fingers brushing against his. His skin was warm, a stark contrast to the icy demeanor he projected to the criminal underworld.
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"And if I don't have it?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly.
"Then Vance will try to use you as leverage to find it," Kalin answered without hesitation, his eyes locking onto mine with fierce, unyielding intensity. "Which is why you will not be returning to your apartment, and you will not step foot outside this estate until this is resolved."
