Bound to his Dark Vow

The Old Factory

We left the estate before midnight.

Adrian drove.

Daniel sat in the passenger seat.

I was in the back, still staring at the photograph.

I couldn't stop thinking about the man standing beside my grandfather.

Daniel's father.

If the photograph was real, then Daniel's family had been connected to the Blackwoods and the Marlowes for years.

And somehow, nobody had told me.

"How old were you when that picture was taken?" I asked.

Daniel turned slightly.

"Seven."

"Then you wouldn't remember."

"I remember my father talking about the Blackwoods."

"What did he say?"

Daniel looked at Adrian.

Adrian kept his eyes on the road.

"Not much," Daniel said.

"That's not an answer."

"My father hated Adrian's father."

I looked at Adrian.

"Why?"

"He never told me."

The conversation ended there.

A few minutes later, Adrian turned onto a narrow road surrounded by abandoned warehouses.

At the end stood a large, rusted building.

The windows were broken.

The old sign above the entrance was barely visible.

BLACKWOOD INDUSTRIAL WORKS.

I stared at it.

"This is it?"

Adrian nodded.

We got out of the car.

The place looked abandoned for years, but Adrian walked toward the entrance like he'd been there before.

Daniel followed.

I stayed close behind them.

Inside, the air smelled of dust and damp concrete.

Our footsteps echoed through the empty building.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"The old records room."

"How do you know where it is?"

"My father brought me here once."

"You said you were a child."

"I was."

"And you remember?"

"Some things."

We reached a metal door.

Adrian tried the handle.

Locked.

Daniel looked at him.

"Seriously?"

Adrian pulled a key from his pocket.

I stared at him.

"You had a key?"

"I keep things."

He unlocked the door.

Inside were shelves covered with old boxes.

We searched for almost twenty minutes.

Nothing.

Then I noticed a loose floorboard beneath one of the shelves.

"Wait."

I crouched down.

"There's something here."

Adrian moved the shelf aside.

Beneath the floorboard was a small metal box.

He pulled it out.

The lock had already been broken.

Inside were documents.

Old photographs.

And a USB drive.

Adrian picked up one of the papers.

His expression changed.

"What?"

He handed it to me.

It was a financial record.

Several payments had been made to different companies.

At the bottom was a name.

Daniel Reeves.

I looked at Daniel.

He stared at the paper.

"That's my father's name."

Adrian picked up another document.

"This isn't the original."

"What do you mean?"

"The dates."

He pointed at the page.

"These transactions happened after my father supposedly closed the investigation."

I felt a chill.

"So someone continued moving the money."

Adrian nodded.

"And they wanted us to believe it stopped."

Daniel took the USB drive.

"Maybe there's something on this."

Before he could put it into his laptop, we heard a noise.

Metal scraping against concrete.

Someone was outside.

Adrian immediately switched off the flashlight.

The room went dark.

"Stay behind me," he whispered.

We heard footsteps.

Slow.

Coming closer.

Daniel moved toward the door.

Adrian stopped him.

"No."

The footsteps stopped outside.

Nobody breathed.

Then the door handle moved.

Once.

Twice.

The door opened slightly.

A shadow appeared.

I held my breath.

Then a voice whispered from the hallway.

"Jonathan was right."

Adrian's expression changed.

"Who are you?"

The figure didn't answer.

Instead, something slid across the floor.

An envelope.

Then the person ran.

Daniel rushed toward the door.

"Wait!"

But the hallway was empty.

Adrian picked up the envelope.

Inside was a single sheet of paper.

I leaned closer.

There were only three lines.

The money was never stolen.

It was payment.

Ask Adrian who received it.

I looked at Adrian.

He didn't speak.

"Who received the money?" I asked.

His eyes remained on the paper.

Then he said quietly,

"My father."

The room went silent.

Daniel stared at him.

"You knew?"

Adrian shook his head.

"No."

He looked at the documents scattered across the floor.

"But now I think my father wasn't the person we were looking for."

He looked at me.

"He was protecting someone."

Before I could ask who, the lights of a vehicle appeared through the broken windows.

Someone had arrived.

And this time, they knew exactly where we were.