Chapter 3 - Collision in the Corridor
1261 Words
“The ones who set the trap.”
He grabbed her arm, pulling her between shelves. “Stay quiet.”
Through the gap she saw two men in masks sweep flashlights across the archives. One carried a pistol fitted with a suppressor. Her heart hammered against her ribs.
Adrian’s hand brushed hers again, steadying her. “Do you trust me now?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small USB drive. “Everything on you in this file is also on here. Take it. If anything happens to me, run to the press.”
She stared at the drive. “Why give this to me?”
“Because it’s your life they’re trying to steal.”
Another crash closer. Adrian pushed the drive into her palm. “Go.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“You’ll get both of us killed.”
“I’ve been dead inside for three years,” she hissed. “I’m not running again.”
His eyes widened for a moment, raw and unmasked. Then he smiled, grim. “You always were stubborn.”
The men’s flashlights swept closer. One of them spoke into a radio. “They’re here.”
Adrian’s grip tightened. “When I move, run to the stairwell. Third door on the left. There’s a boat.”
She shook her head. “Not without you.”
He sighed. “Then stay close.”
He stepped out from behind the shelf, striking first. The nearest man went down silently. The second raised his weapon but Isabella swung a heavy ledger from the shelf into his arm. The gun clattered to the floor. Adrian kicked it away, slamming the man against the shelving.
“Go!” he barked.
She ran, skirts flying, heart hammering. Behind her she heard the thud of bodies, a curse, then footsteps chasing. She glanced back. Adrian was following, blood on his knuckles.
They burst through the third door. A narrow stair spiraled down toward the lagoon. Water glimmered at the bottom like black glass.
Halfway down, Adrian stopped. “Wait.”
“What?”
He lifted a finger. Voices echoed from below. More men. The boat was blocked.
“They’re ahead of us,” he said.
She looked up. More voices above. “And behind us.”
For a heartbeat they stood between two traps. The stairwell felt like a throat closing around them. Salt air burned her lungs.
Adrian’s gaze flicked to a side archway. “There’s another way. Old tunnels.”
“Where do they lead?”
“Out. Maybe.”
“Maybe?” she repeated.
He gave a sharp smile. “You always wanted an adventure.”
Her pulse roared in her ears. “If this is another lie”
“It’s not.”
He pushed open the archway. Darkness yawned beyond. Water dripped. The smell of rust and damp stone filled her nose.
“Ladies first,” he murmured.
She hesitated at the threshold. “Why do I feel like walking through this door changes everything?”
“Because it does.”
From above came the metallic click of a safety being released. A voice shouted in Italian. A beam of light swept the stairwell, blinding her.
Adrian shoved her through the archway just as a silenced shot hissed past, sparking off stone. The tunnel swallowed them in blackness.
In the darkness, water dripped like a clock counting down. Somewhere behind them boots thundered down the stairs. Adrian’s hand found hers, gripping hard.
“They won’t stop now,” he whispered. “They want us both dead.”
His voice echoed in the tunnel like a prophecy.
And for the first time, Isabella wondered not if she could trust him but if she would survive trusting him at all.
The corridor swallowed me whole, marble echoing every step like a countdown. I had almost reached the service stairway when a deep voice slid out of the shadows behind me.
“Running again, Isabella?”
I froze.
I knew that voice. Three years of silence had not dulled it. The sound pressed against my back like a blade.
His footsteps were unhurried, the quiet prowl of a predator closing in. My fingers curled around the cold balustrade, nails biting into my palm.
“Stay where you are,” I whispered, hating the tremor in my tone. “I’m not your business anymore.”
“You’re in Milan. That makes you my business.”
I turned slowly. The marble balcony stretched like a stage between us, moonlight cutting silver lines across his mask. He had removed it halfway, revealing a face more dangerous than memory allowed, sharper jaw, colder eyes.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said.
“I have,” I replied. “But the ghost died three years ago.”
His mouth twitched, not quite a smile. “And yet you’re shaking.”
“I’m not.”
He stepped closer. “Liar.”
I tried to pull air into my lungs. “Why are you here?”
“I could ask you the same,” he said. “You swore you’d never set foot in my world again. Yet here you are at a masquerade paid for by my investors.”
“Your world?” My voice cracked. “I came for work. Nothing else.”
“Work.” He laughed softly, but there was no humor. “Is that what you call it? Courting the same men who wanted you destroyed?”
“I’m not courting anyone.
“You ruined me.”
The words escaped before I could stop them. They landed like a slap between us.
He inhaled sharply but didn’t deny it.
He reached the balustrade opposite me, hands braced on cold stone. “Do you really think it was betrayal?”
“You left me to burn,” I said. “What else should I think?”
He tilted his head. “Do you want the truth or the story you built to survive?”
“Truth,” I hissed. “But you wouldn’t know how to tell it.”
He leaned closer, voice dropping to a thread. “Then listen. The night you think I betrayed youI wasn’t protecting myself. I was protecting you.”
My breath faltered. “You expect me to believe that?”
“I expect nothing. But you should know Milan isn’t safe for you anymore.”
I stiffened. “Safe? Are you threatening me?”
“I’m warning you.”
A noise below glass breaking made me glance over the balcony. Through the courtyard arch I glimpsed a man in a dark coat slipping into the shadows, phone glowing briefly. Adrian’s gaze followed mine, hardening.
“You’re being watched,” he muttered. “Not by me.”
A cold ripple went down my spine. “What are you talking about?”
“You shouldn’t have come,” he said. “They think you still have the files.”
“What files?”
He cursed under his breath. “Tell me you didn’t keep copies.”
I shook my head, though confusion and dread knotted my stomach. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Then we’re both already in trouble,” he said. “Because they do.”
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He didn’t look at it, eyes fixed on me instead.
“Who was that man?” I asked.
“Someone who wants you gone.”
“Gone as in…?”
“Gone,” he said flatly.
- Writer
