15. Roman
ROMAN
The road leading out toward Ackworth’s estate winds through open countryside; narrow hedgerows press in on either side of the tarmac and the last of the evening light bleeds slowly out of the sky.
My headlights carve a pale tunnel through the growing dark as the engine hums steadily beneath me.
My phone sits on the centre console with the call already connected.
“Victor tracked him,” Felix says, and my hands tighten slightly on the wheel.
“Where?”
“He’s at home.”
A dangerous kind of hope settles over me.
If Victor is right and Ackworth is actually sitting in his own house, then for the first time in days the path ahead feels simple.
No more theories. No more chasing shadows.
Just a door, a man on the other side of it, and the answers we’ve been trying to drag into the light since this whole mess began.
“Finally,” I mutter.
There’s a pause on the other end of the line as I imagine Felix shifting in his seat. I don’t know exactly how much of this pressure is weighing him down, but I’ve known Felix long enough to recognise the change in him. His anger is sharper now and less controlled.
“I’m already heading there,” Felix says.
“Don’t go in without me.”
“I’m not twelve, Roman.”
“Humour me.”
“Fine.”
The line clicks dead.
I push the accelerator a little harder and the engine responds immediately.
Somewhere beneath the steady rhythm of the car, my pulse has picked up, sharpening my focus as the miles disappear behind me.
Ackworth’s estate sits far enough away from the nearest village that the countryside swallows most of the sound long before you ever reach the gates.
The land around it stretches for miles, bought decades ago when men like him understood that money could purchase silence just as easily as it could purchase land.
By the time I reach the top of the road, the sky has darkened enough that the gravel lay-by ahead is barely visible until my headlights sweep across it.
I’ve been here more times than I can count over the years.
But the last time I set foot on that property was the ball, and the memory of Fae and I dancing hits me as pain lances through my chest. Ackworth has always had his hands on Fae’s life.
The difference was, one day she was supposed to become mine instead of his.
Now I don’t even know where she is. For all I know she could be inside that house right now.
I notice Atlas’s car is already here. Riggs leans against the bonnet with his arms folded, the glow of his cigarette briefly lighting his face before he flicks it into the darkness.
Victor is pacing back and forth as Atlas looks up from his phone.
I pull up beside them and step out of the car.
The cold settles into my lungs as I breathe in, clearing the last of the noise from my head and snapping my focus back into place.
Whatever’s waiting inside that house, this is the moment it stops being theory and starts to become something real.
“Welcome,” Riggs says with a short nod, and I nod back.
“Any movement?” I ask, looking toward Atlas as he shakes his head.
“Last movement was about fifteen minutes ago according to his phone,” he says with a small shrug.
“Where’s Felix?” Victor asks, walking over and offering me a fist bump.
I return it automatically. The contact makes my skin crawl the way it always does, but it’s a concession I’ve learned to live with over the years.
“Hopefully about to arrive,” I say, glancing back down the road, “and not already inside if he listened to me.”
“Fat chance,” Riggs snorts. He jerks his chin toward the road that disappears down the hill toward the estate. “Lights are on, so Ackworth’s definitely home.”
I follow his gaze down the hill. Even from this distance the house is easy to spot through the trees.
It looks almost peaceful from up here; the kind of place you’d expect to find a family finishing dinner or settling in for the evening rather than the man we’ve been hunting for weeks.
The sight of it sets my nerves humming as the gravel shifts under my boots.
The distant growl of an engine cuts through the stillness and headlights sweep around the bend behind us.
Felix’s car appears out of the dark and pulls in hard beside the others, his tyres crunching sharply against the gravel as he brakes.
The engine barely has time to settle before the driver’s door swings open and he steps out, moving with that tight, coiled energy that’s been sitting under his skin ever since Fae was taken.
He doesn’t look at any of us. He doesn’t say hello.
His attention goes straight past us to the valley, locking onto his childhood home through the trees like he’s trying to burn a hole straight through the stone from here.
“He’s inside,” Felix says. “Let’s move out. Roman, come with me. Victor, Riggs and Atlas take one other car. I don’t care which.”
“I do,” I retort. “Take your car. No one’s driving mine.”
Riggs laughs as we all fall into motion towards our cars. Years of doing this together means no one needs to be given instructions twice. Our doors open and our engines turn over; within seconds, the lay-by empties as Felix pulls out first and Atlas falls in behind him.
The narrow lane twists down through the trees toward the estate and the house grows larger with every turn until the warm lights in the windows brighten through the branches and the tall iron gates finally rise out of the dark ahead of us.
Felix slows and rolls the car to a stop in front of them.
A small security booth sits beside the entrance.
Inside, a guard looks up and peers out toward the car.
The moment he recognises Felix, his posture shifts immediately and he pushes his chair back before stepping toward the door of the booth.
“Evening, Mr Ackworth.”
Felix gives the guy a short nod. “Jeremy.”
The guard glances at the car behind him before reaching for the control panel. “Your father said he was expecting visitors tonight.”
Who the fuck is he waiting for?
I glance across at Felix, and he shoots me a brief frown in return.
The gate begins to slide open with a low mechanical groan as the iron drags slowly across road and the path into the estate reveals itself.
Felix rolls his window back up and eases the car forward, the engine idling low as he guides it through the opening.
From where I’m sitting, I can see the faint pulse of his heart beating hard in his throat whilst his eyes stay fixed on the drive ahead.
The road curves through gardens that have clearly been maintained with obsessive care as the house gradually reveals itself.
Felix finally pulls the car to a stop at the base of the steps, and our car doors open almost at the same time.
No one speaks.
Felix walks straight to the door and unlocks it. The hallway beyond is brightly lit. Black and white marble stretches across the floor between tall columns that hold up the high ceiling above. Lantern lights hang from long chains and cast warm pools of light down onto the stone.
“Father?” Felix calls and his voice echoes down the corridor.
Atlas closes the door behind us as Felix moves through the house.
His strides lengthening as he heads straight for the office.
The rest of us fall in behind him and the tension begins to coil tighter.
My pulse picks up, the steady thud of it beating hard against my ribs as the anticipation settles into my chest. I’ve wanted this moment since the night Fae told me what he did to her.
Back then the anger had nowhere to go but forward.
Now I’m standing inside his house with a clear shot at the man who thought he could control her life forever, and for the first time since this whole nightmare started, I don’t have to wonder whether I’m crossing a line to get to him.
Felix pushes the heavy door of his office open.
I lick my lips in anticipation but come up short when I see it’s empty.
The desk lamp is still on, casting a soft pool of light across the polished wood surface, but the chair behind it sits slightly crooked.
Felix moves around the desk quickly before turning back to us.
“Jeremy said he was expecting visitors. Do you think he’s in the crypt?” His eyes flick briefly toward the door.
“It’s worth looking,” Victor replies.
None of us argue. We turn almost in unison and head back out into the hall. The place feels eerily quiet as our footsteps echo and we cut through the long corridors toward the opposite side of the house.
“Father?” Felix calls in a louder voice.
Felix doesn’t stop moving. He leads us straight to the staircase tucked at the far end of the corridor and starts jogging down.
The air shifts immediately as we descend, the warmth of the house gives way to the colder breath of stone beneath it and although the lights from the hallway above fade behind us they are quickly replaced by the dim glow of the lanterns lining the crypt.
What strikes me most is the silence.
Felix stops in the centre and drags a hand back through his hair.
The frustration is written clearly across his face as his eyes sweep the room again like the man might somehow appear if he just looks hard enough.
I force myself to draw a slow breath, trying to keep the rhythm steady in my chest, but it’s getting harder.
I cannot face another dead end. Not after coming this close.
Not when every step of this hunt has felt like we’re chasing something that keeps slipping through our fingertips.
The thought that someone might be working against us creeps into the back of my mind and refuses to leave.
My teeth press together hard enough that a sharp metallic taste floods my mouth, and I let out a hiss as pain shoots through my tongue.
“Father!”