The safe house was tucked in the upper floor of a renovated brownstone, its walls reinforced and its windows shaded against the world outside. Elana sat stiffly on a deep leather sofa, arms folded, eyes darting between the ornate ceiling and the man pacing before her.
Asher Blackwood moved like a man used to danger silent, controlled, alert. He hadn't said much during the drive from Windmere, but now that they were safely tucked away behind biometric locks and silent alarms, she wanted answers.
She pointed to the pendant clutched in his hand. "How did you even find me?"
He didn't look at her. Instead, he sat at a sleek glass desk, pulled out a toolkit, and began to pry open the locket she'd worn for years. "Your pendant pinged one of my trackers last week. It must have activated when it was exposed to radio frequencies from the port."
Elana's brows furrowed. "Trackers? You bugged me?"
"I bugged the pendant. Years ago," he replied. "It was designed to stay dormant until you were within range of certain obscured towers."
He twisted the clasp, and with a click, the tiny crescent shaped locket popped open further than it ever had before.
Inside was something she'd never seen: a razor thin microchip, no larger than a grain of rice, embedded deep in the hollow compartment.
Her heart skipped. "What… is that?"
"The reason people are trying to kill you, he said, lifting the chip with gloved fingers. This isn't just jewelry, Elana. It's a key.
To what?
He turned, meeting her eyes for the first time. "To everything your parents were hiding."
She leaned forward. "What does that mean?"
But before he could answer, his phone vibrated. Asher swiped it up and answered with a clipped, "Blackwood."
A pause.
His face tensed.
Understood. Lock down the perimeter. No one in or out.
He ended the call and turned back to her. We have company. Your face was picked up on a traffic cam outside the diner. They're moving faster than I expected.
Elana stood, panic rising. Who are they?
Asher opened a hidden drawer in the wall. Inside were guns, passports, and unmarked cash.
People who made billions when your parents died.
He handed her a burner phone and a small bag. Pack light. We're leaving. Now.
But what about the chip? The locket she asked. It's coming with us, he said, sliding it into a steel case. They'll kill you to get it. But as long as I'm breathing, Elana, that's not happening.
Her fingers clenched the bag strap. She followed him to the door, heart pounding.
She had no past, no family, and now no safety.
But as she looked at the man beside her deadly, unreadable, and fiercely protective one thing was terrifyingly clear.
He wasn't just part of her past.
He might be her only future.