UNTIL I FIND YOU AGAIN

Chapter 4 - The betrayal

The first man raised his gun.

Adrian moved before he could think.

He grabbed Amara around the waist and pulled her behind one of the stone pillars as a bullet tore through the wooden bench where they had been standing.

"Run!" he shouted.

Amara didn't move.

"Amara!"

She snapped out of it and followed him.

They sprinted toward the back of the chapel as gunfire erupted behind them.

"There's a door!" Amara cried.

"Where?"

"Left!"

Adrian shoved open a narrow wooden door.

They stumbled into a dark corridor.

"Keep going."

Behind them, footsteps thundered across the chapel floor.

"They're coming!"

"I know."

Adrian looked around desperately.

The corridor ended at another door.

He tried the handle.

Locked.

"Damn it."

Amara grabbed his arm.

"Wait."

She reached beneath a loose section of wood beside the door.

Her fingers found something.

A key.

Adrian stared at her.

"How did you know that was there?"

"I've been here before."

She unlocked the door.

They rushed outside.

Cold rain hit Adrian's face.

They were behind the chapel.

Trees surrounded them.

"Which way?" Adrian asked.

"Follow me."

Amara ran.

Adrian followed.

Branches scratched his face as they pushed through the forest.

Behind them, men shouted.

"Find them!"

Adrian glanced back.

Flashlights moved between the trees.

"They're spreading out."

"Then we need to split up."

"No."

"Adrian—"

"I'm not leaving you again."

She stopped.

For one second, they simply stared at each other.

Rain ran down Amara's face.

Adrian couldn't tell whether the wetness on her cheeks was rain or tears.

"You already did," she whispered.

Then she turned and kept running.

Adrian followed.

They reached an old dirt road.

A vehicle was waiting.

Black.

Engine running.

Amara opened the passenger door.

"Get in."

Adrian hesitated.

"Whose car is this?"

"Do you want to live?"

He got in.

Amara jumped behind the wheel.

The tyres spun against the mud before the vehicle shot forward.

Neither of them spoke.

For several minutes, there was only the sound of rain and their breathing.

Adrian looked at her.

She was gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles had turned white.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere safe."

"Where?"

"You ask too many questions."

"I've spent three years thinking you were dead."

Her hands tightened.

"So have I."

Adrian looked at her.

"What does that mean?"

Amara didn't answer.

He studied her profile.

There were small scars along her jaw.

A faint one near her eyebrow.

He had never seen them before.

"What happened to your face?"

"Nothing."

"Amara."

"Nothing."

"You have scars."

She glanced at him.

"Everyone has scars."

The words hit harder than she probably intended.

Adrian looked away.

"I would have found you."

She laughed quietly.

"No, you wouldn't have."

"Why?"

"Because you never knew me as well as you thought."

He stared through the windshield.

"I knew everything about you."

"No."

"I knew your favorite food."

"That isn't knowing someone."

"I knew you hated thunderstorms."

"Everyone knew that."

"I knew you cried whenever you watched sad movies."

"You made fun of me for it."

"I knew you slept with the television on."

She smiled despite herself.

"Because silence scared me."

Adrian turned toward her.

"Exactly."

Her smile disappeared.

For a moment, the years between them vanished.

They were twenty-four again.

Young.

Stupid.

In love.

Then Amara's eyes hardened.

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like nothing happened."

Adrian swallowed.

"Everything happened."

She didn't respond.

The car continued through the rain.

After another ten minutes, Amara turned onto a narrow road.

A small house appeared ahead.

She stopped.

"We're here."

Adrian looked at the house.

"Whose place?"

"Mine."

"You live here?"

"Sometimes."

He followed her inside.

The house was small but clean.

There were books on the shelves.

A kitchen at the back.

A fireplace.

And photographs.

Adrian stopped.

One photograph caught his attention.

It showed Amara standing beside an older woman.

They were smiling.

"Who is she?"

Amara froze.

"My aunt."

"I thought your aunt died."

"She did."

Adrian looked at her.

"Then—"

Amara took the photograph from the wall.

"That picture was taken before."

"Before the accident?"

"Before everything."

She placed it face down.

Adrian noticed something.

There was a second photograph behind it.

He pulled it free.

His stomach dropped.

It was him.

Standing outside Cole Holdings.

Taken recently.

Very recently.

"Amara."

She turned.

"Where did you get this?"

She didn't answer.

"Who has been watching me?"

"I don't know."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"I expect you to understand that I don't have all the answers."

"Then why did you come back?"

Her eyes met his.

"Because I found something."

"What?"

She walked toward a locked cabinet.

Removed a key from around her neck.

Opened it.

Inside were documents.

Photographs.

Newspaper clippings.

A small black notebook.

Adrian stepped closer.

"What is all this?"

"The truth."

She handed him a photograph.

It showed the wreckage from the night of the accident.

Adrian stared at it.

Then she gave him another.

This one showed the black SUV.

His eyes narrowed.

"That's the car."

"Yes."

"How did you get this?"

"I found it three months ago."

"Where?"

"In a file belonging to someone I trusted."

"Who?"

Amara looked at him.

"Your sister."

Adrian went still.

"Victoria?"

Amara nodded.

"No."

"She was involved."

"No."

"Adrian."

"Victoria would never—"

"She told me to stay away from you."

"That's not proof."

"She threatened me."

Adrian shook his head.

"She hated our relationship. She didn't try to kill you."

"You don't know that."

"I know my sister."

Amara's voice became quiet.

"You thought you knew me too."

Adrian had no answer.

She opened the notebook.

Inside were names.

Dates.

Payments.

Photographs.

Adrian scanned the pages.

His expression slowly changed.

"What am I looking at?"

"People who were paid before the accident."

"By who?"

"I don't know."

"There has to be a name."

"There isn't."

Adrian turned another page.

Then froze.

One name appeared repeatedly.

DANIEL REYES.

His face drained of color.

"No."

Amara watched him.

"You know him?"

"He's my best friend."

"Exactly."

Adrian looked up.

"Daniel couldn't have done this."

"Why?"

"Because he was there for me after you died."

Amara's expression softened.

"Maybe that's why."

Adrian closed the notebook.

"This isn't enough."

"There's more."

She reached into the cabinet and removed a small flash drive.

"I found this in the car."

"What car?"

"The SUV."

Adrian stared at her.

"You were there?"

"Not that night."

"Then when?"

"Two years later."

She handed him the drive.

"I stole it from the man who had it."

"Who?"

"I never saw his face."

"Amara, you're telling me you survived for three years, spent all this time investigating, and you don't know who tried to kill you?"

"I know some things."

"Like what?"

She hesitated.

"Like the fact that your family wasn't the only one involved."

Adrian's eyes narrowed.

"What does that mean?"

Before she could answer—

A car engine sounded outside.

Amara froze.

Adrian turned toward the window.

Headlights appeared through the curtains.

Someone had found them.

Amara whispered, "No."

The vehicle stopped outside.

Another one pulled up behind it.

Then another.

Adrian looked at her.

"How many exits?"

"Two."

"Good."

She grabbed the flash drive.

Adrian took the notebook.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking the evidence."

"You don't trust me."

"I don't trust anyone."

A loud knock echoed through the house.

Three slow knocks.

Amara's face went pale.

Adrian whispered, "Who is it?"

She didn't answer.

The knock came again.

Then a man's voice called from outside.

"Amara."

She closed her eyes.

Adrian looked at her.

"You know him."

Her lips trembled.

"Yes."

"Who?"

She opened her eyes.

"It's the man who saved me."

Adrian stared.

"What?"

"The man who pulled me out of the burning car."

Another knock.

The man's voice came again.

"You've had your reunion."

A pause.

"Now give her back."

Adrian's jaw tightened.

"Who the hell is he?"

Amara whispered a name.

"Gabriel."

The front door exploded inward.

Adrian grabbed Amara.

Gunfire filled the house.

And somewhere in the chaos, the flash drive fell to the floor.

A boot stepped on it.

Crack.

The evidence was destroyed.

Or so they thought.

Because neither Adrian nor Amara noticed the tiny memory card that had slipped free from the broken casing.

It landed beneath the sofa.

And on that card was a recording that could destroy the Cole family forever.