Chapter 37
T he warehouse district is silent, cloaked in a night so deep it feels like it could swallow me whole. The air is thick with the harsh scent of gasoline and metal, the remnants of industry lingering even in the stillness. Each step I take echoes against the cracked pavement. Streetlights are sparse here, only the occasional flickering glow from a security lamp breaking the darkness.
The weight of my backpack drags at my shoulders, but it carries more than just supplies—it holds regret, guilt, inevitability. My mind replays the way I left Silas, the memory stretching unbearably thin, like a wound I keep tearing open. His arm had been draped over me, his warmth an anchor I’d clung to for hours as he drifted in and out of sleep, as though he could sense what I was about to do. It had taken forever for his breathing to steady, to fall fully into unconsciousness. Even then, I had waited, frozen in place, tears soaking the pillow beneath me. When I finally moved, slipping out from under him, it felt like I was splitting myself in half.
And now I’m here, betraying him in more ways than I can count. But this was the only move left.
I spent too long afraid to reach a conclusion about what Silas knew—whether he was protecting his father or complicit in whatever was buried in those servers. But now, I feel with certainty that he doesn’t know. Silas isn’t shielding William; he’s fighting for a place in a world his father refuses to let him belong to. And that makes this all the more unbearable. But I can’t risk Natalie.
Luis was right. Peter won’t stop. Not after everything I’ve done to defy him. He knows exactly how to break me—just as he did with Drew five years ago. And if I don’t act now, he’ll do it again. Because he saw the way I protected her in that alley, saw what she means to me. To him, she’s a weakness, a vulnerability to be exploited.
This won’t end unless I get to the information first. I have to find out what Peter is after before he does. Only then can I decide what to do with it—how to leverage it and keep Natalie safe.
It has to be enough.
My legs feel like they might give out before I even reach the warehouse. I haven’t slept, haven’t eaten. My body is running on fumes.
Four blocks from the warehouse, I stop in the shadow of an abandoned building and take a deep, shaky breath. The wind stirs loose gravel, sending a hollow rustling sound through the empty street. My hands tremble as I pull out my earbuds and connect the call.
“Luis,” I whisper, barely holding it together.
His voice is soft and calm. Like he’s been waiting for this moment as much as I have been dreading it. “I was starting to worry.”
I don’t respond immediately, wiping at my face as fresh tears threaten to spill. “I’m here,” I finally manage, but my voice cracks.
“Are you okay?” he asks, though we both know the answer.
“No,” I admit, the word barely audible. “But it doesn’t matter.”
Luis pauses, and I can feel his hesitation through the line. “You’re doing the right thing. Maybe when this is over, there’ll be a chance for you and Silas to talk—”
I stop in my tracks, my throat tightening as the mention of Silas sends a fresh wave of pain crashing through me. “Please, Luis. Just don’t.” I snap, harsher than I mean to. I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing myself to breathe.
He hesitates again, then exhales. “Alright. Let’s focus. You’re close. Head toward the southeast side, just like we planned.”
I start moving again, sticking to the shadows as I follow his voice. My hands are still shaking, and I ball them into fists to steady them. As I near the buildings, adrenaline surges through me, but my mind still drifts back to Silas and the way he’d smiled at me just yesterday morning over coffee, concerned and cautious. He’d asked me about taking a weekend trip, said we could go anywhere I wanted. I nodded and played along like I deserved to plan a future with him. But I didn’t. I never did.
I stumble over something in the dark, and Luis’s sharp voice cuts through my thoughts. “Stay focused. You’re almost there.”
The smell of oil and dust clings to the air. A chain-link fence looms ahead, and beyond it, the silhouette of the warehouse cluster takes shape against the night sky. I’ve memorized this place, studied every angle of the buildings. I know where the cameras are, the blind spots, the movement schedules of the guards.
I nod, even though he can’t see me, and take a deep breath. “Alright,” I whisper. “Walk me through it.”
Luis guides me step by step, his voice calm and steady. I hear the faint tapping of his keyboard as he works to loop the cameras. “Okay, distraction in three… two… one.”
An alarm of some kind blares to life in the distance. I picture the guards jolting at the sound, their attention snapping toward the sudden noise. I imagine them muttering to each other, some moving to investigate, leaving the entrance momentarily unguarded.
Once Luis gives me the okay, I crouch lower, moving quickly toward the small gate next to the vacant security booth, using the spoofed key he sent me to slip in while the team here is distracted on the other end of the lot. As soon as I’m through, Luis starts speaking again.
“Clear so far,” he murmurs. “Head toward the trucks to your left. You’ve got about a minute before the guards regroup.”
I move quickly but carefully, sticking to the shadows before reaching the cluster of trucks and pressing myself against the cold steel of a flatbed. The closest warehouse looms ahead, its corrugated metal walls slick with condensation under the floodlights. The path is wide open, too exposed, and naturally, I’m headed toward the furthest building on the other end of the lot.
Luis’s voice buzzes in my ear again. “Give me a few seconds. I’m working on cutting the floodlights.”
I’m about to respond when I hear a crunch of gravel behind me. That’s not the wind.
Then a voice stops me cold.
“Well, well, well.”
My heart lurches as I whip around. Only a few yards away, Peter steps out from behind a nearby truck, the faint moonlight and floodlights catching the sharp curve of his smirk. Just behind him, Harrison lingers, only a few steps back, his gun ready and a sinister glint in his eye. Two more men flank them, their faces partially obscured by shadows. Peter’s hands rest casually in his pockets, as if this is just another game he’s already won.
He’s hardly changed in the year since I last saw him. His medium build and impeccable grooming lend him an air of understated authority. His salt-and-pepper hair is neatly combed, not a strand out of place, and his clean-shaven face is perfectly polished. To anyone else, he might appear distinguished, even charming. But I know better.
“ Elena ,“ he says, his tone dripping with false affection. “You look… tired.”
Hearing that name— my name—sends a shiver down my spine. I swallow the panic threatening to choke me. My pulse pounds in my ears, but I force myself to stay still, to keep my expression neutral.
Luis’s voice crackles in my ear, frantic now. “What’s happening?”
My focus is locked on Peter. His smirk widens as he takes a slow, deliberate step toward me. “Did you really think I wouldn’t be watching?” He looks around the property, nose crinkling. “I should have realized sooner they might be keeping secrets in a warehouse.”
I don’t understand. There’s no way they could have beaten me here. Even with all the precautions and planning, they were still ahead of me. How? How did they know exactly where I was going?
I scoff, forcing out a dry laugh. “So, what, you’ve been stalking me now? Did you miss me that much?”
Harrison snorts, his gun still at the ready. “We were watching your little boyfriend’s place for weeks, waiting for you to bolt. And once you got close enough to this area of the district, well… you’re not as unpredictable as you think. There’s only one real place you could be headed.”
I clench my jaw, resisting the urge to snap back. Harrison’s smug tone grates against my nerves, but before he can say more, Peter shoots him a sharp look. The irritation is plain in his eyes, the twitch of his jaw giving away his frustration. “That’s enough,” Peter cuts in, his tone low, controlled. Harrison falls silent, though his smirk doesn’t waver.
Luis’s voice crackles in my ear, his tone tense. “Someone else is in the network. I’m locking them out, but you need to get the hell out of there. Now.”
I grit my teeth, keeping my expression unreadable as Peter regroups from his frustration with Harrison. His head tilts as he studies me like a chess piece he’s already decided to sacrifice. “You’ve been busy, haven’t you?” he muses. “You and Luis and whatever band of idiots you’ve roped into this. I have to admit, you’ve been more resourceful than I gave you credit for.”
My fists tighten at my sides, but I manage an indifferent shrug. “Well, you’re here. Go do it yourself.”
His smirk falters, replaced by something darker. “But you’ve done so much of the heavy lifting already. It would be a shame to waste all that effort.” He pauses, his tone turning icy. “In fact, once we’re finished here, I think I’ll pay Luis a visit. We need to have a little chat about loyalty.”
I shake my head. “After everything you’ve done, you think I’m still going to help you? Why the hell would I go through with this now?”
Peter’s expression barely shifts, but there’s an edge to his gaze, a slight narrowing of his eyes that tells me I’ve struck a nerve. “Because you don’t have much of a choice. Hasn’t it occurred to you yet? The guards haven’t returned to their post.”
Luis swears in my ear, his voice sharp. “He’s right. I’m not seeing any movement from the guards. They’re either down or staying out of sight. Do not engage. I’m working on an escape plan.”
I barely hear him. My mind is already spinning, running through possibilities. But there aren’t many. No, there aren’t any . Not with this many unknowns.
Going into this, I knew that I’d be caught on camera somewhere—I was counting on being gone before it mattered, with Luis scrubbing my trail clean. And Peter knows that. That’s why he still wants me to go in. Because if I do, I’m the one left complicit. My face. My name. Meanwhile, he stays in the shadows, untouched.
But even if I refuse, he’ll find someone else. That much is inevitable. And the idea of him gaining access to that information, whatever it is, is unthinkable.
I can’t let it happen.
My eyes dart around the lot, searching for anything I can use. Trucks, pallets, loose metal, machinery—all potential obstacles but none of them enough. Then my gaze lands on a tanker truck nearby, closer to me than to Peter, and the hazardous materials warning gleaming faintly under the floodlights. A desperate idea forms, reckless and dangerous but my only shot.
If I can give Silas more time, maybe he’ll figure out what his father has been hiding, what Peter is so desperate to steal. He can put an end to whatever William has done, but not if Peter beats him to it.
“Lu,” I whisper, keeping my lips barely moving. “Can you create another distraction? Something loud?”
Luis hesitates. “I can trigger the fire alarm in the adjacent building and cut the floodlights. Thirty seconds max.”
I need more time. “Why this? Why me?” I press, eyes locked on Peter. “There are people way better at cryptography than I am. So why was I the only one allowed to work on it? What’s the point of making me do all of this?”
Peter exhales sharply, his patience thinning. “You were always going to be my scapegoat,” he says, his tone devoid of remorse. “I never realized how much of a nuisance you would be. I assumed you were smart enough to stay in your lane, but I’ve learned my lesson. It’ll never happen again.”
The insinuation is so obvious it’s insulting. It’ll never happen again because he’ll make sure I don’t leave here alive.
Luis’s voice cuts in again, sharp with concern. “What’s your plan here?”
I barely whisper back, “Don’t worry about it.”
Harrison’s head tilts, eyes narrowing as he watches me. His gaze zeroes in on my ear. “She’s wearing an earpiece,” he says, his voice triumphant.
Peter’s expression darkens instantly. “What’s your game, Elena? Stalling? It won’t work.”
I smirk, tilting my head. “Afraid I might outsmart you? I thought you liked a challenge.”
Before he can respond, a piercing fire alarm blares from the warehouse next door, and the floodlights cut out, plunging us all into near-total darkness. I dart to the side, sprinting toward the tanker truck, purposefully moving in an erratic pattern, praying to whatever god is out there that I don’t trip on anything along my path.
Peter shouts behind me, his voice laced with fury. “Stop her!”
Someone fires off a warning shot, but it’s at least a dozen feet to my left. Whether it’s because their eyes haven’t adjusted fast enough or they’re too apprehensive to shoot toward the tanker, it doesn’t matter. It’s the exact leverage I need.
Still running at full speed with my backpack bouncing off my shoulders, I lean down to scoop a loose metal rod I’d noted just a few feet away and use the momentum to swing it with all my strength at the valve near the end closest to me. The metal screeches as it bends, and a spray of liquid begins gushing out; a volatile chemical, by the smell of it. The pounding footsteps behind me come to a halt, boots sliding across the gravel as they realize what's happened.
I quickly pivot, moving myself farther away from the belly of the truck but still using it as a shield. One misfire and we all go up in flames. I know it. They know it. And the outrage on Peter’s face is downright haunting.
“What the hell are you doing?” Peter shouts both at me and his team, motioning for the men to move in. They hesitate before carefully creeping closer, expertly positioning to flank me from all angles, but I don’t give them the time to recuperate.
Without hesitation, I reach into my pocket, pulling out the lighter I always keep on me after learning more than once that even the smallest tools can save your life. “Ending this,” I say, more to myself than him, as I flick the flame to life.
The lighter arcs through the air as I throw it toward the edge of the pooling chemical and take off toward a tall stack of pallets several yards from the trucks. For a brief second, time seems to freeze.
Then, the world erupts.
The explosion is deafening, sending shockwaves rippling outward. The force lifts me off my feet, hurling me through the air before I crash back down, my body slamming into the ground. The impact knocks the breath from my lungs, leaving me gasping as heat sears across my back like an open flame licking at my skin.
My vision wavers, the edges darkening, shrinking into a tunnel of flickering orange and black. Each breath is agony, the thick smoke clawing its way down my throat, burning from the inside out. I try to move, but my limbs refuse to obey, every nerve in my body screaming in protest.
Flames surge hungrily across the lot, but I can’t focus on where it’s going. Through the rolling waves of heat, I hear Peter shouting, his voice a distorted echo as if I’m hearing it from underwater.
The fire rises higher, its roar a deafening chorus that drowns out everything else. Through the haze, I catch glimpses of movement—shadows weaving through the chaos. Another explosion rips through the night as the flames reach one of the trucks in the opposite direction, rattling the earth beneath me. Shrapnel clatters against metal, followed by agonized screams that cut off too quickly.
The heat is unbearable, blistering against my exposed skin, the acrid scent of burning oil and scorched earth flooding my senses. My ears ring, a relentless shrill that drowns out any other sound. My cheek is pressed against the gravel, and in the sliver of space beneath the trucks, I see them—figures scrambling away, retreating, arms shielding their heads as they run.
It shouldn’t feel like a small victory, but it does. Silas will figure this out. If I’ve bought him even a fraction of the time he needs, it’s enough.
Tears sting my eyes, hot and unrelenting.
But I still failed.
The fire’s roar dulls, its heat pressing down on me like a weight, pinning me in place. My mind fractures, slipping between awareness and oblivion, the pain numbing into something distant, almost insignificant.
Silas’s face flickers behind my eyelids, vivid and unshaken by the haze of smoke and pain. I cling to the memories like a lifeline, desperate for something to hold on to—the warmth of his touch, the quiet rasp of his voice in the morning, the intensity in his gaze, as if I were the only thing in the world that mattered. The way he had watched me last night, eyes tracing every detail, committing me to memory like a man bracing for loss, even when I told him I’d stay.
Regret crushes me, heavier than the wreckage, more suffocating than the fire. I tried— really tried—to fix this. To make this right. But it was never going to be enough.
The world shrinks with my vision. At first, it's smoke and embers, but when I blink the last time, it's just flames.