The soft click of the lock opening echoed in the safehouse vault like thunder.
Tricia stood frozen, her fingers resting on the edge of the small silver box. Time stopped as she lifted the lid and looked down into the treasure trove of secrets her mother had hidden—words that hadn’t been meant for anyone’s eyes but her own.
The scent of aged paper and cold steel filled the space. The necklace—a phoenix shaped from platinum and onyx—rested in the center. Beneath it were letters, handwritten and dated. Dozens of them. Some were sealed. Others open.
But her fingers stopped at the flash drive.
She picked it up slowly.
The label read:
> “For Tricia. If you're reading this, I'm gone—and they're coming for you.”
Her vision blurred.
Behind her, Christopher leaned against the wall, watchi
