Chapter 3: The Devil's Last Witness
745 Words
Budapest disappeared behind them beneath a blanket of storm clouds.
The overnight train cut across the European countryside, racing toward Prague, its rhythmic clatter the only sound inside the private compartment. Outside, forests, castles, and mist-covered hills flashed by in the early morning light.
Ava Carter sat quietly by the window, replaying the events of the past forty-eight hours.
She had witnessed a murder.
She had become the target of one of the world's most powerful crime syndicates.
And now, she was traveling across Europe under a false identity with a man whose past was even more mysterious than the people chasing them.
She glanced at Damian Cross, who remained awake, watching every passing station.
"You haven't slept."
"I sleep when I know we're safe."
"Will we ever be safe?"
Damian didn't answer.
His silence told her everything.
Ava reached into her bag and pulled out her camera.
Miraculously, it had survived the chaos at Warehouse 19.
She scrolled through the photographs she had taken that night.
Most were blurred.
Some showed frightened bodyguards.
One clearly captured Victor Moretti raising the gold-plated pistol.
Another revealed something unexpected.
Behind Moretti...
A woman stood in the shadows.
Elegant.
Tall.
Wearing a crimson evening gown beneath a black trench coat.
Her face was partly hidden, but her emerald eyes were fixed directly on Ava—as if she had known someone was watching.
Ava enlarged the image.
"Damian..."
He turned.
"I don't remember seeing her."
Damian's expression changed instantly.
He took the camera.
For the first time since they met, genuine concern crossed his face.
"Delete this photo."
"What?"
"Now."
"Who is she?"
He remained silent.
Ava pulled the camera back.
"No."
"You don't understand."
"Then make me understand."
Damian looked out the window.
"Her name is Isabella Romano."
"The woman in the red dress?"
He nodded.
"She's Moretti's strategist."
"And?"
"Everyone who has ever identified her... has died within a year."
Hours later, the train rolled into Prague.
The city looked untouched by time.
Gothic churches pierced the morning sky.
Ancient towers overlooked winding cobblestone streets.
The famous Charles Bridge stretched gracefully across the Vltava River, crowded with artists, musicians, and tourists who had no idea they were walking through the middle of a deadly international conspiracy.
Ava couldn't help but admire the beauty.
"It's like walking into history."
Damian scanned rooftops instead.
"It's the perfect place for an ambush."
Their destination was a discreet safe house hidden above an old bookstore near the city's historic district.
Inside waited an elderly man with silver hair and sharp blue eyes.
"Nikolai," Damian said.
The old man embraced him warmly.
"I heard ghosts don't visit anymore."
"They do when they're running out of friends."
Nikolai smiled sadly before noticing Ava.
"So..."
He studied her carefully.
"You're the witness."
Ava stepped forward.
"My name is Ava Carter."
"No."
Nikolai shook his head.
"Your name stopped mattering the moment Victor Moretti saw your face."
His words sent a chill through the room.
Later that evening, while Damian and Nikolai discussed escape routes, Ava wandered through the bookstore.
Dust-covered shelves held books in dozens of languages.
One ancient leather journal caught her attention.
Inside were newspaper clippings dating back nearly twenty years.
Every article involved powerful politicians, judges, CEOs...
All dead.
Across every page, one strange symbol appeared—a crimson devil.
The same emblem engraved on the hard drive from Budapest.
A folded note slipped from the journal.
It contained only one sentence.
"The last witness ends the Devil's Kingdom."
Ava's heart pounded.
She rushed upstairs.
"Damian!"
Before she could speak, the lights went out.
Darkness swallowed the building.
Then came the sound.
Glass breaking.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Someone had entered.
Damian instantly drew his pistol.
"Stay behind me."
A laser sight suddenly appeared on Ava's chest.
A sniper.
Outside.
Damian shoved her to the floor just as the window exploded inward.
The bullet shattered the bookshelf instead.
Gunfire erupted from the street.
Moretti's assassins had found them.
Nikolai opened a hidden escape passage behind one of the shelves.
"Go!"
Damian covered Ava as they descended into the narrow tunnel.
Explosions rocked the building above.
Dust rained from the ceiling.
Ava clutched the leather journal tightly.
She no longer felt like a frightened journalist.
She felt like the keeper of a truth powerful enough to bring down an empire.
For the first time, she understood why Victor Moretti wanted her dead.
She wasn't just a witness.
She was the last witness.
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