The flash drive and the firestorm
1108 Words
The knock at her door came just after midnight.
Soft. Measured. Like whoever stood outside already knew she was awake.
Aria pushed the blanket off her legs and crossed the room barefoot. She didn’t ask who it was. She already knew.
When she opened the door, Knox stood there—his suit jacket gone, shirt unbuttoned at the throat, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He looked exhausted. And tense.
“I figured you weren’t sleeping either,” he said, his voice low.
She stepped aside.
He entered without asking.
The silence stretched as she closed the door behind him.
Knox stood by the fire, gazing into the flames like he might find answers there. His jaw worked once, then again, like he was fighting something back.
Aria didn’t move to him. She stood near her bed, arms crossed, unsure if she wanted to scream or sink into his arms.
Finally, he spoke.
“Adrian traced the number that texted you. Burner phone. Dropped in a trash bin five blocks from the café. No prints. No footage. They were careful.”
Aria’s chest tightened. “And the man who grabbed me?”
“Ghost. We’re working on facial recognition, but I’m not hopeful. Whoever this is… they’ve done this before.”
“So what now?” she asked quietly. “What happens to me?”
Knox turned, eyes locking with hers. “Now? We tighten the net. No more unscheduled outings. No more slipping past the gates. You stay close. You stay alert.”
Her lips parted in disbelief. “So I’m a prisoner.”
“You’re alive,” he countered, walking toward her. “That’s what matters right now.”
“No, Knox. What matters is the truth. You still haven’t told me everything.”
He stopped just inches away.
His gaze dropped to her mouth for the briefest second before flicking back up.
“There are things you’re safer not knowing.”
“You don’t get to decide that anymore.”
He tilted his head. “Don’t I?”
Her breath hitched.
Because in this moment—in the firelight and silence and tension—she wasn’t sure if she wanted to fight him or fall into him.
And maybe… maybe he wasn’t sure either.
“I should hate you,” she whispered.
His hand rose, knuckles grazing her cheek. “You probably will.”
And then he leaned in—close enough for his breath to touch her lips—but didn’t kiss her.
He was testing her. Waiting.
But Aria didn’t flinch.
“You said I’m the only variable you didn’t plan for,” she said, her voice trembling. “Then start treating me like a real one. Not someone you can control.”
Knox’s eyes burned darker. “Control was never the problem, Aria. It’s what I’ll do if I lose it.”
She didn’t know who moved first.
Maybe both of them did.
But one second there was space—and the next, there was heat.
His mouth crashed into hers, and everything else fell away. Her fingers fisted his shirt. His hand tangled in her hair. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet.
It was desperate.
Frantic.
Like they both needed to prove something.
Like they both wanted to forget everything that had brought them here.
But just as quickly as it began—it stopped.
Knox pulled away, his breathing ragged. His forehead pressed to hers, and for the first time… she saw him truly shaken.
“We can’t,” he said, voice thick.
“Why?” she whispered.
“Because I don’t know if I’m protecting you… or destroying you.”
And just like that—he was gone.
The door clicked softly behind him.
Aria stood there, dazed, lips still tingling from the kiss that hadn’t lasted nearly long enough.
But there was no time to dwell.
Because the next morning, everything changed.
---
Dahlia woke her at dawn with a knock on the door and an urgent voice.
“There’s someone here to see you.”
Aria blinked sleep from her eyes. “Who?”
“She says her name is Cecelia Voss. She’s your—”
“My what?”
“Knox’s ex-fiancée.”
Aria bolted upright.
By the time she descended the stairs, Cecelia Voss was already seated in the glass-walled sunroom, sipping coffee like she belonged there.
She was beautiful. Icy. Blonde hair swept into a knot, flawless red lips curled in a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Every inch of her screamed money, status… control.
“Mrs. Wilder,” she said sweetly as Aria entered.
Aria didn’t sit.
“I didn’t realize we had guests.”
“Oh, I’m not a guest,” Cecelia replied. “Just a complication.”
Aria narrowed her eyes. “What do you want?”
“To offer some advice. Woman to woman.”
Aria arched a brow.
Cecelia leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “Knox has a habit of breaking things he can’t control. Hearts. Lives. Empires. You think you’re the exception. But I promise you, you’re just another eventual casualty.”
“I didn’t realize you still cared so much,” Aria said coldly.
“I don’t.” Cecelia smiled wider. “But they do.”
“Who?”
Cecelia set down her cup. “The people your father crossed. The ones Knox is keeping from you.”
“I already know—”
“No,” Cecelia interrupted, her voice razor-sharp. “You think you know. But if Knox was honest, you’d already be gone. He’s shielding you from truths so dark, they’d break you.”
“Why are you here?” Aria asked.
Cecelia stood slowly, her heels clicking on the tile as she approached.
“Because they don’t want Knox. They want you. And when the time comes, you’ll have to decide—”
Her lips curved cruelly.
“—if he’s worth dying for.”
Before Aria could respond, Dahlia appeared in the doorway.
“Ms. Voss’s car is waiting.”
Cecelia turned, paused, and then looked over her shoulder one last time.
“Ask him about Prague.”
Then she left.
Aria stood frozen in the sunroom, her heart in her throat.
Prague?
Another secret. Another ghost in Knox Wilder’s past.
And now she had a name for it.
She didn’t know what it meant.
But she would.
Because she wasn’t going to be left in the dark anymore.
Not about Knox.
Not about her father.
Not about anything.
And if she had to burn Wilder Industries to the ground to find the truth—
So be it.
- Writer
