Twisted Hearts.

Chapter Five: Smoke Between Us

Aurora stood beneath the rusted canopy of the abandoned train yard, the wind cutting through her coat like knives. The night was damp and restless, mist curling low around the tracks like smoke from a dying fire.

Thorne was late.

The last time she stood across from him, he’d been screaming.

Now she didn’t know what to expect—loyalty, betrayal, or a bullet between the eyes.

The sharp hiss of gravel under boots made her turn, every muscle coiled, her hand hovering near her side.

But it was him.

Thorne Kane—older now, heavier in the shoulders, but with the same piercing gray eyes that once looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered.

He stopped a few feet away, just far enough to keep his finger on the trigger if things went sideways.

“You shouldn’t have come alone,” he said flatly.

She smirked. “You asked me to.”

“Didn’t expect you to actually listen.”

Aurora tilted her head. “Maybe I’ve learned to pick my battles.”

Thorne looked away, jaw clenched. “This isn’t a battle, Rory. It’s a war.”

There was silence between them then, thick with unspoken wounds.

She reached into her coat slowly, pulled out a small device, and tossed it toward him.

He caught it. Thumbed it. Frowned.

“What’s this?”

“Just enough to make you question everything you think you know about Leland.”

He looked at her again. “And why would you hand this to me? You think I’ll magically flip sides because of a few files?”

“No,” she said. “I think you’re already halfway there.”

His laugh was bitter. “You’re delusional.”

“No,” she said, stepping closer now. “You’re angry. You’re tired of watching people disappear. You’re tired of guarding a man who doesn’t just lie—he rewrites the truth.”

Thorne looked down at the device in his hand. The wind howled, but he stood still.

“Do you know what happens if I open this?” he asked.

“You stop pretending you’re blind,” Aurora whispered. “And maybe… maybe we save a girl who still believes her father is a good man.”

His eyes flicked to her, sharp. “What girl?”

“Amara.”

A beat.

Then: “You’re dragging the Senator’s daughter into this?”

“She’s already in it. Whether she knows it or not.”

Thorne exhaled slowly, his hand closing tight around the device.

“I’ll look at it,” he said finally. “But if you’re wrong—if this is a setup—I won’t just walk away.”

Aurora stepped back. “Fair enough. But if I’m right… you’ll help me take him down.”

He didn’t answer.

He just turned and disappeared into the mist.

And Aurora was left staring at the tracks, feeling the ground beneath her shift with every truth they had yet to uncover.

Thorne paced the cold steel floor of his apartment, the dim desk lamp casting jagged shadows across the walls. The device Aurora had given him sat untouched in the middle of the table, like a bomb waiting to detonate.

He should destroy it. That was the protocol.

But his gut twisted. Something in Aurora’s eyes tonight—pain, resolve, hope—made it impossible to walk away. So, with a trembling hand, he powered the device on.

A list of names scrolled across the screen.

People marked as “expendable assets.” Names he recognized. Names he’d buried. Names the government had claimed were “lost in action” or “under investigation.”

But the files were clear.

These people hadn’t just vanished.

They had been removed.

Intentionally. Silently.

His chest tightened.

The last file loaded. Project Eden.

Inside were surveillance photos. Experiments. Unauthorized detainment centers hidden under civilian locations. And worse—there was a section labeled Leland Family Security Protocol, and beneath it, Subject A: Amara.

Thorne’s blood ran cold.

He opened the file.

Medical evaluations. Personality assessments. Behavior modification logs.

They were studying her.

Controlling her.

He slammed the laptop shut, breath ragged.

This wasn’t just about politics anymore. This was personal. And if Senator Leland was willing to use his own daughter to test control programs, how many others had suffered?

Thorne stood up, mind spinning.

He couldn’t let Amara stay in that house.

---

Meanwhile, inside the Leland estate…

Amara leaned against the stone railing of the terrace, arms wrapped tightly around herself. The night air was cruel, and so was the silence. Her father had been gone for days—no explanations. Just coded orders and secret meetings she wasn’t supposed to know about.

But she wasn’t a child anymore.

Her fingers brushed against the necklace Aurora had left her—disguised as a gift, but inside was a flash drive she’d yet to plug in.

She hadn’t decided if she was ready for the truth.

But something felt wrong. The staff was on edge. Her bodyguard, Jensen, had been replaced. And the looks she’d started getting from the security team—they weren’t protection anymore. They were surveillance.

She felt it in her bones.

A low buzz startled her. Her phone.

Unknown Number: Get out. Now.

Her heart leapt. She typed fast.

Amara: Who is this?

Unknown Number: Someone who knows your father better than you do. Check the necklace. Trust no one.

Her hands trembled as she pulled the chain off and opened the latch.

Inside, a paper-thin data strip.

She rushed back into her room, locking the door.

Her laptop hummed to life, and with a deep breath, she inserted the strip.

A video opened.

Aurora’s voice.

“If you’re seeing this, you’re already in danger. Your father isn’t who you think he is, and your home is not a safe place. You’re part of something you didn’t choose. But you can choose what happens next.”

Amara’s breath caught. A series of images followed—documents, reports, hidden audio recordings.

Her world shattered in minutes.

Everything she knew was a lie.

---

Down the hall, a hidden camera blinked red.

And in a surveillance room deep underground, a shadowed figure leaned forward.

“She knows,” he muttered. “Initiate Phase Three.”

Amara’s fingers hovered above the keyboard. The images and files streaming across her laptop screen made her heart race like a drum against a war cry. Her entire life had been scripted, edited, and rehearsed by the hands of men in shadows—her father chief among them.

Her chest tightened.

Was any of her freedom even real?

Then she heard it.

A creak.

Not the usual sigh of the old hallway, but deliberate—like a step taken with care.

Her instincts kicked in.

She shut the laptop, yanked the flash drive free, and slipped it back into the necklace’s hidden compartment. Her bedroom door—still locked. But the presence on the other side was unmistakable.

A shadow passed under the door.

Silence.

Her phone buzzed again.

Unknown Number: They know. Exit through the greenhouse. Now.

Amara didn’t hesitate. She grabbed a hoodie from her closet and her old ballet flats—quiet steps were key. Unlocking the window, she dropped down onto the soft earth below, landing in the side garden. The greenhouse was just past the hedges.

She ran.

Branches scratched her arms and legs, but she didn’t stop. Her lungs burned, heart pounding. When she finally reached the greenhouse, she ducked inside and hid behind a crate of soil bags.

She wasn’t alone.

A shadow rose.

She gasped.

Then a voice.

"It's me."

Thorne.

She nearly collapsed with relief. He stepped forward, jaw tight, eyes flicking around the space like a soldier assessing a war zone.

"You came," she breathed.

“I had to.” His voice was low. Urgent. “They’re going to make you disappear. You need to come with me.”

Her eyes filled. “Why should I trust you? You’re just like them.”

“No.” He took her hand gently. “I was. But not anymore.”

He handed her a burner phone, his grip lingering. “I’ve seen what they’ve done. You don’t deserve any of this.”

Footsteps approached outside the greenhouse.

“Go,” he urged. “Through the back gate. There’s a bike hidden in the trees. Ride east until you reach the tunnel beneath Holloway Bridge. Aurora will be waiting.”

Amara hesitated.

“You have to trust me.”

She met his eyes—haunted, but burning with sincerity—and finally nodded.

Then she ran.

And behind her, Thorne turned toward the door, prepared to face the ones who’d come to drag her back.

He didn’t care if it cost him everything.

He’d finally found something worth fighting for.

Thorne stood his ground in the center of the greenhouse, the filtered moonlight casting pale silver across his face. Behind him, the door Amara had slipped through creaked shut with the faintest whisper—she was gone now, just as she needed to be.

Now he had to buy her time.

The greenhouse door burst open.

Two men entered—black suits, cold eyes, military posture. He knew them. He’d trained with them. Trusted them once.

“Agent Thorne,” one of them growled, stepping forward. “You’ve broken protocol.”

He smiled bitterly. “Yeah? Maybe protocol was broken long before I touched it.”

“Where is the girl?” the second one demanded, circling like a vulture. “She’s government property.”

That word twisted in his stomach. Property.

“Not anymore.”

The fight was swift. Brutal. Trained men with no conscience and no hesitation.

But Thorne wasn’t fighting for a mission this time.

He was fighting for her.

Glass shattered as they crashed into seed trays and metal poles. Thorne took a hit to the jaw—blood filled his mouth. But he drove his elbow into one man’s temple, dropping him with a grunt. The second lunged, but Thorne swept his leg and sent him sprawling into a shelf of terra cotta pots.

The silence afterward was shattered only by the sound of Thorne’s ragged breathing.

He wiped his bloody mouth, snatched up a discarded earpiece, and spoke into it.

“Amara’s gone. If you want her, you’ll have to come through me next time.”

He crushed the earpiece underfoot.

---

Across town, Amara pedaled through the fog-lined streets, wind stinging her face. The cold bit at her skin, but the terror behind her burned hotter. Every shadow looked like a threat. Every corner a trap.

She didn’t stop.

Not until she reached the tunnel under Holloway Bridge.

A figure stepped from the shadows.

“Aurora?” she asked, breathless.

The woman nodded, her sharp eyes scanning the trees.

“You made it,” Aurora said. “You're stronger than they think.”

“I want answers,” Amara whispered.

“And you’ll get them,” Aurora replied, stepping aside. “But first—we run. Because they won't stop. Not until they own your mind, your choices, your soul.”

Amara didn’t hesitate.

She followed her into the dark.

And for the first time in her life, she chose herself.

Amara stood still for just one more heartbeat in the shadows of the greenhouse. The adrenaline had masked it until now—the tremble in her hands, the sting of betrayal, the ache in her chest.

Thorne noticed. He gently reached for her, and for a moment, she didn’t pull away.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his eyes scanning her face like it held answers he desperately needed.

“I don’t even know what that word means anymore,” she whispered. “My father’s been lying to me my whole life. Everyone around me—liars, watchers, puppets. And now you…”

His expression didn’t change. “Say it. You think I’m one of them.”

She nodded slowly. “I want to believe you, Thorne. I want to trust that you’re different. But I’ve trusted people before—and look where that got me.”

Thorne leaned in just enough for her to feel the heat of his breath, his voice low, raw. “I don’t expect you to trust me, Amara. Not yet. But I’ll earn it. I’ll burn down the world if that’s what it takes to keep you free.”

Something flickered in her eyes—doubt, yes. But also the tiniest spark of belief.

“Burning the world doesn’t scare me,” she murmured. “But falling for the one holding the match? That’s terrifying.”

He didn’t smile, but the corners of his mouth lifted, just slightly. “Then we’re both scared.”

Outside, more footsteps echoed.

Reality slammed back into place.

Amara swallowed the lump in her throat, adjusted the hood of her sweatshirt, and gripped the burner phone tighter.

“Tell me something real,” she said. “Just one thing before I go.”

Thorne didn’t hesitate. “The day I met you, I wasn’t supposed to care. But I did. And every second since has been a war between what I was ordered to do—and what I’d give everything to protect.”

She held his gaze. “Then protect me by staying alive.”

And with that, she turned and disappeared into the night.

Thorne watched her vanish through the back gate, heart pounding. Then he exhaled, straightened his spine, and turned toward the oncoming danger.

It was time to stop running from his past.

And start fighting for his future.