Chapter 3 - The Sanctuary of Shadows
The safe house was a sprawling, modernist concrete structure built into a cliffside overlooking Lake Michigan. It was cold, minimalist, and impenetrable. Kinsley sat on a plush velvet sofa in the main gallery, wrapped in a thick wool blanket, watching the rain beat against the floor-to-ceiling glass.
She had spent five years running. Five years working double shifts, sleeping in closets, jumping at the sound of a closing door. She had kept her head down, her identity buried, her past a shadow that chased her through every city in the Midwest.
And now, she was here, in the heart of the Moretti lion’s den.
Marcus, the driver, stood near the doorway, a silent, imposing figure. “He’ll be back soon, Miss Hart. You should try to rest.”
“How did he know?” Kinsley asked, her voice raspy. “I never told anyone my real name. I’ve been ‘Kinsley’ for a long time, but my name—my real name—is Evelyn. I don't know how he found me.”
Marcus didn't move. “Mr. Moretti doesn't ‘find’ things, Miss Hart. He recovers them.”
An hour later, the massive front doors groaned open. Leo walked in. He was soaking wet, his coat discarded on the floor, his shirt sleeves rolled up. He looked tired, but for the first time, the hollow look in his eyes seemed to have been replaced by a focused, electric heat.
He walked toward her, and Kinsley stood up, her legs feeling like lead.
“Silas?” she asked.
“Silas is… being handled,” Leo said, his voice devoid of emotion. “He gave me a location. A storage facility in the city. The logbook is real, Evelyn. It contains the names. Your father’s name is in there. And so are the men who ordered the fire.”
Kinsley—Evelyn—felt the floor tilt. “My father didn't know anything. He was just a gardener. Why would they kill him?”
“Because he saw something he wasn't supposed to,” Leo said, walking to the window and staring out at the turbulent lake. “He saw the man who sparked the flame. He saw the person who walked out of our house just minutes before the roof collapsed.”
Leo turned back to her, his gaze intense. “I need you to tell me everything. From the night of the fire. Every detail, no matter how small. I need to know why you ran, and why you’ve been hiding for five years.”
She took a deep breath, the memories rising like smoke. “I was working late at your estate. My father had me helping him clear the debris near the north wing. We saw the man. He wasn't wearing a mask. He looked like he belonged there. He wasn't a stranger. He was… he was someone you know, Leo.”
Leo went still. “Who?”
“I don't know the name,” she whispered, tears finally streaming down her face. “But I saw his face. I can draw it. I can describe it perfectly.”
May you like
Leo walked over to her, taking her shaking hands in his. His touch was warm, solid, and for the first time in years, she felt she could stop running.
“Then we have a new mission,” Leo said. “We stop running, and we start hunting.”
