Lana
Elijah pressed his ear to the secret door, listening carefully for any sounds within. I anxiously paced back and forth.
He looked at me and mouthed the words ‘stop moving’ before he leaned back in. He lifted a finger to his lips and unlatched the lock, creaking the door open. I let him go first, my heart fluttering like a humming bird’s wings. He waved me on and led me to the familiar office. Except instead of the usual neat order of the room, was an array of chaos and broken glass. Alexander had trashed the place, seemingly in a bout of rage.
I winced, accidentally stepped on a broken picture frame. I frowned, leaning down to pick it up. It was a picture of an older gentleman with two young boys flashing peace signs at the camera.
“The man is Alex’s father, Cornelius
