The Prague secret
1927 Words
The echo of Cecelia’s heels still rang in Aria’s head long after she left.
Ask him about Prague.
Three words. One city. And suddenly, everything felt like it was tilting on an invisible axis.
Aria stood motionless in the sunroom, fingers clenched into fists. The morning light filtered in through the glass, soft and golden—but nothing about this moment felt warm. It felt cold. Isolating. Like she was standing at the edge of something massive and unknowable.
She didn’t realize Dahlia was still watching her until the silence thickened.
“Are you all right, ma’am?” Dahlia asked softly.
Aria turned slowly. “Do you know what happened in Prague?”
Dahlia’s expression faltered—just for a split second—but that was enough.
“You do,” Aria whispered.
“I don’t know the full story,” Dahlia said carefully. “But whatever happened... it changed him.”
Changed him?
Aria swallowed hard and nodded. “Thank you.”
She didn’t wait for more. She headed straight back upstairs, storming into her room, and shut the door behind her.
She needed answers. And if Knox wasn’t going to hand them over, she’d find another way.
Her eyes darted to her desk drawer.
The flash drive.
The one Adrian had given her a week ago—the one labeled only with a date and a set of numbers she didn’t recognize. She hadn’t opened it yet. Not because she didn’t want to—but because she was scared of what she might find.
But not anymore.
She plugged it into her laptop with trembling fingers.
A single folder appeared.
PROJECT FALCON.
Inside it—documents. Photos. Surveillance logs. Financial transfers. Redacted names. And at the bottom of the list, one video file.
Prague. 3:42 a.m. Intercept.
Her heart kicked up in her chest.
She clicked play.
The grainy footage opened with a man—tall, broad shoulders, moving like a soldier. He wore a long coat and an earpiece. He was speaking into it, Czech accents in the background. Then—
A gunshot.
The camera shook.
Screams.
And then another man appeared in the frame. The footage was blurry, but the posture... the walk... the jawline.
It was Knox.
Younger. Harder. Eyes cold as steel.
And in his arms—someone. A woman. Blood on her face. Barely conscious.
Aria’s hand flew to her mouth.
He dragged the woman into a black van, barked orders at someone off-camera, and then—
Cut to static.
Aria sat frozen.
The timestamp said it was three years ago.
But the woman in the footage... she looked familiar.
Something about her profile—her hair—her eyes—
Was that her mother?
Her stomach turned violently.
She scrolled through the documents, heart racing, breath quick. A PDF titled “FALCON: TARGET LIST — SECONDARY PRIORITY” opened, and halfway down the page was a name that shattered everything:
James Monroe.
Her father.
Listed as an informant turned liability.
“Oh my God,” she whispered.
There were transaction records, too—money moving through offshore accounts, some of them traced to companies she recognized as subsidiaries of Wilder Industries.
Knox’s companies.
Her throat burned.
This wasn’t just about her father being hunted.
This was about Knox knowing.
Helping.
Maybe even orchestrating.
The knock came at the worst moment.
She slammed the laptop shut, yanked out the flash drive, and shoved it into her pocket.
“Who is it?” she called.
“It’s me.”
His voice.
Knox.
Of course.
She opened the door slowly, trying to keep her hands from shaking.
His eyes swept over her, sensing the shift. “You look pale. Are you okay?”
No. She wasn’t.
But she smiled anyway. “Just tired.”
A pause.
He stepped inside. “I need to talk to you.”
“So talk.”
He looked… off. Like something had happened. His tie was loose, and there was a fresh cut on his cheek, like he’d been in a fight.
Aria took a step back. “What happened?”
“There was a break-in. One of our tech vaults in Zurich. Whoever did it—they were looking for something specific.”
She swallowed. “What?”
“A drive. Like the one you have.”
Every nerve in her body froze.
She tried to stay calm. “Why would they think I have it?”
“Because they know you’re the only leverage they have against me.”
“So I’m bait?”
“No.” He moved closer. “You’re everything. That’s why I need you to trust me.”
She looked up at him, feeling like the floor might crumble beneath her.
“Then tell me,” she said. “Tell me what happened in Prague.”
Knox flinched.
So she was right.
He exhaled slowly. “You don’t want to go down that road, Aria.”
She stepped forward. “Too late. I already started walking.”
He was quiet for a long time.
Then finally, he said, “Come with me. There’s something you need to see.”
And before she could argue, he turned and walShe followed him down the hall, through the elevator, and into the waiting black SUV parked outside the estate gates. No security detail. Just the two of them. The tension between them thickened with every second.
Knox didn’t speak. He stared out the window, jaw tight, fingers drumming against his thigh. Aria sat beside him, clutching her purse tightly—her thumb brushing over the hidden flash drive like it was a weapon.
The silence between them wasn’t just uncomfortable. It was dangerous.
Finally, she said, “Why now?”
He turned to her, eyes unreadable. “Because keeping you in the dark is no longer an option. Too many pieces are in play. And if you’re going to stay by my side, you need to know exactly what that means.”
She scoffed. “You mean if I’m going to keep pretending to be your wife?”
His jaw clenched. “This was never just pretend, Aria. Whether you believe that or not.”
She shook her head, heart pounding. “Then stop lying to me.”
He didn’t answer.
They arrived at a private hangar on the outskirts of the city. Two men in suits waited by the jet, silent and watchful. Knox nodded once, and they disappeared without a word.
“Where are we going?” she asked as he led her up the steps.
He turned to her, gaze heavy. “Prague.”
Aria stopped cold. “What?”
“If you want the truth,” he said, “you’re going to see it for yourself.”
Six Hours Later — Prague
The city was a painting of shadow and light—golden domes and gothic spires glittering beneath a grey dusk sky. But there was no time for wonder.
Knox’s Prague penthouse wasn’t a home. It was a fortress.
They entered through a biometric scanner. Aria barely had time to take in the cold, minimal interior before Knox led her into a dark office lined with steel cabinets and monitors.
He pulled open a drawer, took out a worn file, and placed it on the table in front of her.
“Start here,” he said. “This is what your father was involved in.”
Aria’s hands trembled as she opened it.
Inside—more photos. Surveillance shots. Phone transcripts. CIA intel. One image stood out: her father shaking hands with a man labeled “Aleksei Vukov”—a known arms trafficker.
“No,” she breathed. “That’s not possible.”
“Your father wasn’t just running a foundation, Aria,” Knox said. “He was funneling donations to fund a black-market militia operating out of Eastern Europe.”
She looked up, rage sparking. “That’s a lie.”
“No. That’s the truth your mother tried to protect you from.” He paused. “She was the one who turned him in.”
Aria stared at him.
“No—” her voice cracked. “That doesn’t make sense. My mother loved him.”
“She loved you more.”
His voice was calm, but heavy. Like every word was a brick.
“She came to us. To me,” he continued. “She gave us everything. Names, locations, codes. The operation your father was part of was called Falcon. It wasn’t just money laundering, Aria. They were selling experimental military tech to enemies of the state. Your father was facing a global tribunal.”
Her world tilted.
She couldn’t breathe.
“I don’t believe you,” she whispered.
Knox stepped forward and placed something on the table.
A necklace.
Her mother’s necklace.
“I tried to protect her,” he said. “But they found her anyway. She was killed in retaliation. I held her while she bled out in an alley. And I promised her I’d make sure you never knew this life.”
Her vision blurred with tears. “You’re lying.”
“I wish I were.”
She stared at the necklace, her throat closing.
“She gave me this,” he said quietly. “Told me to find you. To keep you safe. I didn’t know who you were until I saw your name at the auction that night. Then it all clicked.”
Aria shook her head. “You used me.”
“I saved you.”
“No. You manipulated me. Dragged me into a fake marriage. Used your power and your secrets to keep me leashed like a pet—”
“I kept you alive.”
He was shouting now, eyes burning.
“You think this life is about choices? About romance?” He moved closer. “I’ve done things to survive—things that would turn your blood cold. I’ve killed, Aria. I’ve lied, stolen, burned bridges and bodies. And I’ve done every single thing to keep people like you out of this world.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Then why bring me into it?”
“Because I couldn’t stay away.”
The admission cracked something wide open between them.
He reached for her, and for a moment—just a moment—she let him.
His hand cupped her cheek, thumb brushing a tear from her skin. The fire in his touch hadn’t dimmed. If anything, it burned hotter in the dark of this cold room.
“I tried to stay away,” he whispered. “But from the moment I saw you, it was already too late.”
Aria trembled beneath the weight of it all.
Her father.
Her mother.
Knox.
The lies.
The blood.
The truth.
“You don’t get to love me,” she said brokenly. “Not after all this.”
“I already do,” he said.
And then he kissed her.
Hard. Desperate. Fierce.
Not a kiss of romance—but of guilt, of grief, of surrender.
She kissed him back because in that moment, everything was too much. The pain. The secrets. The truth.
They crashed together like a wave and a storm—violent and inevitable.
His hands gripped her waist. Her fingers tangled in his hair.
Clothes came off.
Breaths turned into gasps.
They made love on the edge of war.
ked out the door.
This time—she followed.
But not because she trusted him.
Because if there were more secrets waiting...
She was finally ready to burn them all down.
- Writer
