CHAPTER FIVE-The Man in the Dark
1276 Words
Evelyn’s POV
The second gunshot echoed through the archive.
It came from somewhere above us.
Then everything went silent again.
I couldn’t see Damien anymore.
The darkness was complete.
Only the steady sound of my breathing reminded me I wasn’t alone.
“Don’t move,”
Damien said quietly.
“I’m not planning to.”
A faint click broke the silence.
Not a weapon.
A flashlight.
A narrow beam swept across the ceiling before disappearing.
Someone was searching.
The light moved slowly across the shelves.
It paused.
Then continued.
Whoever was out there knew exactly where to look.
I crouched beside the table and slipped the Project Lazarus file into my backpack.
“If they’re here for the file,”
I whispered, “they’re too late.”
“They’re not here for the file.”
I looked toward Damien’s voice.
“How do you know?”
“Because they already knew where it was.”
The answer settled in my mind.
He was right.
Nobody broke into a building like Blackwood Technologies hoping to get lucky.
They came with a plan.
Which meant…
“They’re here for us.”
“Yes.”
Another sound drifted through the room.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Measured.
Not the hurried footsteps of security guards.
Not police either.
These people weren’t searching.
They were approaching.
Damien moved closer.
I still couldn’t see him.
“They’ll expect us to run.”
“So we don’t.”
“No.”
His voice remained calm.
“We make them believe we already have.”
Before I could ask what he meant, something rolled across the floor.
It stopped a few feet away.
A soft hiss followed.
Smoke.
I covered my mouth.
The white cloud spread quickly across the archive.
“That’s not ours,” I said. “I know.”
The smoke became thicker with every second.
Visibility disappeared.
Even if the lights came back now, they wouldn’t help.
Someone coughed outside the archive.
Then another voice spoke.
“Search every room.”
Security.
Real security.
So who fired the shots? The answer came immediately.
Someone had entered before they arrived.
Someone who wanted to disappear before security found them.
A hand grabbed my wrist.
I reacted on instinct.
My elbow drove toward Damien’s ribs.
He caught it before it landed.
“It’s me.” I relaxed. “
Breathe.” “I’m breathing.”
“Barely.”
He wasn’t wrong.
He pulled me toward the far wall.
“There.” I
felt cold metal beneath my fingers.
“What is this?”
“Emergency exit.”
“I didn’t see one on the blueprint.”
“You weren’t supposed to.”
He pushed against the wall.
Nothing happened.
Then he pressed something beside the frame.
A section of the wall opened without a sound. I stared.
“You’ve got hidden exits in your archive?”
“My father believed every room should have two ways out.”
“Smart man.”
“He was.”
We slipped inside.
The wall closed behind us.
The noise from the archive vanished.
The passage was narrow.
Concrete walls stretched ahead.
Emergency lights glowed near the floor.
Just enough to see.
We walked in silence.
After several minutes, I spoke. “You expected tonight.”
“Yes.”
“You expected me.”
“Yes.”
“You expected someone else too.”
He nodded.
“I hoped I was wrong.”
“You weren’t.”
“No.”
I looked ahead.
“You know who they are.”
“I know who sent them.”
“Tell me.”
“They work for Victor Ashcroft.”
I stopped walking.
Damien turned.
“What?”
“You’ve heard that name before.”
I laughed quietly.
“Heard it?” I looked at him.
“I spent three years stealing from his organization.”
His expression changed for the first time.
Not fear.
Surprise.
“You?”
“You sound disappointed.”
“I expected someone older.”
“I get that a lot.”
He continued walking.
“So Victor finally noticed.”
“I doubt it.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Victor doesn’t chase people.”
I remembered the stories.
The disappearances.
The bodies.
“He sends someone else.”
“And who would that be?”
I looked straight ahead.
“Lucien Ashcroft.”
The name hung between us.
Damien didn’t answer immediately.
“You know him.”
“I know enough.”
“Were you ever caught?”
“No.”
“Then why is he looking for you?” I smiled without humour.
“Because I embarrassed him.”
Damien glanced at me.
“How?”
“I stole thirty million dollars from one of Victor’s accounts.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“That’s impressive.”
“It wasn’t the money.”
“What was it?”
“I did it while pretending to be one of Lucien’s own accountants.”
For a moment neither of us spoke.
Then Damien laughed.
A real laugh.
It caught me completely off guard.
“You don’t seem sorry.”
“I’m not.”
His smile disappeared.
“That explains something.”
“What?”
“The attacks on you became much more frequent after that.”
I frowned. “
You know about those?”
“I know everything I could find.”
We reached the end of the passage.
A steel door blocked the way.
Damien entered a code.
The lock clicked.
Cool night air rushed inside.
We stepped into an empty parking garage several streets away from Blackwood Technologies.
Rain had started again.
The city looked different after midnight.
Quieter.
More dangerous.
I looked around.
“No guards.”
“They don’t know about this exit.”
I zipped my jacket.
“What now?”
Damien reached into his pocket and handed me a small key.
I frowned.
“What’s this?”
“Locker two hundred and fourteen.”
“Where?”
“Central Station.”
I looked at the number engraved on the key.
“What’s inside?”
“I don’t know.”
I stared at him.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“My father rented it eleven years ago.”
“You never opened it?”
“I couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“The key disappeared after his death.”
I looked at the one in my hand.
“So how did you get another one?”
“It arrived yesterday.”
“From who?”
“No return address.”
My pulse slowed.
Another anonymous message.
Another carefully planned move.
Someone wanted both of us following the same trail.
“They’re leading us somewhere.”
“I know.”
“And you’re still going.”
“I don’t have a better option.”
Neither did I.
The Project Lazarus file rested inside my backpack.
Somewhere in the city, someone wearing my face had murdered a government minister.
Victor Ashcroft’s people were now involved.
Nothing about this was getting smaller.
It was getting bigger.
A black sedan turned the corner at the far end of the garage.
Its headlights swept across the concrete.
I grabbed Damien’s arm.
“Don’t move.”
The car stopped.
The engine remained running.
The driver’s door opened.
A tall man stepped out.
Black suit.
Black gloves.
Dark hair.
Even from this distance, something about the way he carried himself felt familiar.
He closed the door gently.
No wasted movement.
No hurry.
He looked directly at us.
Then he smiled.
“I’ve spent five years looking for you, Evelyn.”
My blood ran cold.
I knew that voice.
Lucien Ashcroft had finally found me.
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