Celeste’s POV
"Pick up. Come on, pick up the phone," I whispered, my voice shaking.
I pressed the glowing screen so hard against my ear that it really hurt. I was walking fast, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"Dad, please. You have to answer me," I muttered, looking around the campus courtyard. "You cannot just call me out of nowhere, tell me there is a fake accident, tell me not to come home, and then just totally vanish. You are driving me fucking crazy. Answer the goddamn phone!"
I waited, holding my breath. But there was no ringing. Just a cold, mechanical voice cutting into my ear.
"We are sorry. The line you are trying to reach is dead. Please hang up and try again later."
"Damn it!" I screamed to the empty air.
I shoved the phone into my bag, my hands trembling. I took a deep, shaky breath, trying to act like a normal college student. It was the middle of the afternoon. The sun was bright, and hundreds of kids were walking around me. They were laughing. They were talking about midterms. They looked so happy and safe.
But inside my head, everything was totally spinning. I could not stop thinking about the scary photo from the roof. I could not forget the loud sirens at the greenhouse last night. And my dad's voice—it had sounded so broken and panicked.
"Adrian said it was fine," I whispered to myself, pulling my sweater tighter around my body. "He said it was just some stupid tabloid scare. He told me to calm down. But he is wrong. I know he is wrong. My gut is screaming at me."
"Hey! Watch where the hell you are going, you total idiot!"
A loud, angry shout broke through my thoughts. I stopped dead in my tracks near the edge of the stone path.
Right in front of me, a massive black BMW cut right off a guy on a sleek sports motorcycle. The bike made a horrible, loud sound as the tires skidded across the road. They left thick, black streaks on the gray pavement.
The door of the BMW slammed open. A guy in an expensive suit stepped out into the sunlight. His face was completely red with rage.
"Are you fucking blind, motherfucker?" the driver screamed, slamming his hand on the hood of his car. "You almost crashed straight into my door!"
The motorcyclist did not back down at all. He kicked his kickstand down and ripped his black helmet off. His face was totally pale, and he was dripping with sweat.
"You cut me off on purpose, you piece of shit!" the biker yelled back, his voice cracking. "Do you know how close you came to killing me? Back the hell off me right now!"
"I don't give a fuck about your bike, man!" the driver screamed. He took a big step forward, his hands turning into tight fists. "You have been following me for three whole blocks! I know exactly who sent you!"
"You are completely losing your goddamn mind, old man!" the biker shouted. He looked frantic. He looked totally desperate. "I don't know you! I don't owe you anything! Get the fuck out of my face before I make you regret it!"
"Oh, you think you are tough?" the driver sneered. His voice went low and dark. It was a scary sound that made all the hairs on my arms stand up. "You are a dead man walking if you don't hand over what belongs to the company right now. I know what you took from the main office. Give it to me!"
"I don't have shit for you!" the biker yelled, shaking his head. "Get away from me!"
"Give it to me now!" the driver roared.
"Fuck you!" the biker screamed.
The biker stumbled backward. His heavy boot caught on the edge of the concrete curb right where I was standing.
"Whoa!" he gasped, his arms flying wild in the air.
He lost his balance completely and crashed heavily into a row of green bushes right next to me. As he hit the ground, a small, heavy black thing flew out of his open jacket pocket. It skidded across the hard concrete and stopped right at the toes of my boots.
"Oh my god, are you okay?" I asked, stepping forward. I reached my hand out to help him up.
"Get the fuck away from me, lady!" the biker snapped. He scrambled to his feet, his eyes wide with absolute terror. "Mind your own damn business if you want to stay alive!"
"I was just trying to help—" I started to say.
"Shut up and stay back!" he yelled.
Without even looking down at the ground, the biker jumped back onto his motorcycle. He kicked the engine into a loud roar and sped away. He wove dangerously through the big campus gates, almost hitting a tree.
The driver of the black car let out a loud curse. "Fuck! No!"
He ran back to his car, slammed the door shut, and mashed his foot on the gas pedal. The tires screeched loudly against the asphalt as he chased after the bike, disappearing into the heavy city traffic.
I stood there for a second, my heart thumping hard against my ribs.
"What the hell was that?" I whispered to myself.
I looked down at my feet. The small black object was still sitting there on the gray stone. Without thinking, I reached down and picked it up. It felt so cold in my hand. It was heavy and made of metal. It was a rugged, military-grade flash drive.
"Hey, mister! You forgot your—" I called out, turning toward the street.
But they were completely gone.
I stood in the center of the path, holding the cold metal.
"Great. Just great," I sighed, throwing the drive into the bottom of my leather bag. "A threat from some anonymous freak, a dad who won't answer me, and now I am picking up literal trash off the street. This day is perfect."
...
Hours went by. I completely forgot about the crazy fight on campus. It was not until later that night, when I finally got back to my penthouse apartment, that I remembered it.
The apartment was dead quiet. The heavy silence made me feel so totally alone.
I dropped my bag onto the kitchen island. The heavy thud made a loud echo in the dark room.
"I hate this," I muttered, looking around. "I hate being so scared."
I reached into my bag to grab my keys, but my fingers brushed against the cold metal edges of the flash drive. I pulled it out, holding it up to the dim kitchen light.
"What even are you?" I murmured, my stomach twisting with sudden curiosity.
The drive had no labels. No logos. Nothing but a heavy lock seal on the cap. It looked important. It looked really dangerous.
"Those men today," I said out loud. "They were not fighting about a traffic accident. They were fighting about this. They were fighting about what is inside this drive."
I walked over to the living room couch and grabbed my laptop from the table. I sat down, my hands shaking a little bit as I flipped the screen open.
"This is a terrible idea," I told the empty room. "A completely, totally terrible idea, Celeste."
But I was so desperate for answers. I needed to know what was happening to my life. I pushed the flash drive into the side port of my laptop.
A bright blue loading bar flashed across the screen. Then, a dark window popped up with a single text box.
PASSWORD REQUIRED. DECRYPTION ATTEMPT 1 OF 3.
"A password. Of course it needs a password," I groaned, leaning my head back against the cushions. "Because my life could never be simple for five minutes. Screw this."
I stared at the blinking line.
"What would a corporate thief use?" I muttered, typing fast. "Let's try the basic stuff. A-D-M-I-N."
I hit enter. The screen flashed a bright, angry red.
INCORRECT. 2 ATTEMPTS REMAINING.
"Okay, okay, think, Celeste," I whispered to myself. My breath was getting short. My chest felt tight. "What about the car? B-M-W? No, that is stupid. Think harder."
I closed my eyes. Suddenly, my mind went straight to Adrian. I missed him so much it hurt. I wished he was here right now, holding me tight, telling me everything was going to be fine. I thought about the way he looked at me in the greenhouse. I thought about his hazel eyes, and how they always had that sad, dark shadow. He talked about his mom sometimes. His voice always carried so much deep pain when he did.
"It makes no sense," I whispered, my fingers moving across the keyboard. "It makes absolutely no sense, but I am doing it anyway."
I typed out his mother's maiden name in big letters. L-A-U-R-E-N-T.
I hit enter.
The screen did not flash red. Instead, the black window broke apart. A bunch of green loading bars filled the monitor.
"Holy shit," I gasped, my eyes going totally wide. I sat up straight, my heart racing. "It actually unlocked. Why the hell would a random biker's drive unlock with Adrian's mom's name? This cannot be a coincidence. No way."
I moved the mouse over the main folder. The title at the top of the screen made all the blood run straight out of my face.
THE BLACK LEDGER.
"What the fuck is a black ledger?" I whispered into the quiet penthouse.
I clicked the folder open. Hundreds of files showed up on the screen. They had dates, names, and big numbers. I clicked the first document, my eyes scanning the simple, scary headers.
"Political corruption," I read out loud, my voice shaking. "Multi-million-dollar money laundering. Fake companies."
Then, I saw a folder with a dark, heavy title.
ASSASSINATIONS.
My stomach twisted into a painful knot. I felt like I was going to throw up.
"This isn't a joke," I whispered, tears burning my eyes. "These are real papers. Real bank accounts. Real body counts."
I scrolled down more. My fingers were shaking so badly I could barely control the trackpad. Suddenly, a specific file name caught my eye. My breath stopped completely in my throat. It was a date from eleven years ago. The exact date of the car accident that killed Adrian's parents.
Right next to the file name, a big digital stamp glowed in bright, bleeding red letters.
SUPPRESSED.
"No, no, no," I whimpered, a cold sweat breaking out across my forehead. "Please, God, no. Don't let it be this. Please."
I clicked the file. A copy of an old police report popped up. But it was not the clean version Adrian had shown me. This one was covered in handwritten notes and secret corporate emails.
I read the words out loud, my voice breaking in the quiet room.
"The... the Laurent vehicle," I stuttered, tears of pure horror blurring my blue eyes. "Brake line failure suspected to be intentional. Someone cut the fluid lines. Case closed by executive privilege... funded by the Lindstrom Group."
The screen became a total blur. A loud, heavy sob tore out of my throat. I pressed my hands over my mouth, my chest heaving as the horrible truth crashed through my brain.
"Adrian's parents did not die in a tragic accident," I choked out, the emotional weight completely crushing me. "They were murdered. They were executed. And my family... my father's company... we paid for it. We killed them."
I sat there, crying, my mind spinning in pure agony. The betrayal was too much to bear.
"Adrian," I sobbed into the empty room. "Oh god, Adrian, I-I didn't know. We didn't know. I swear we didn't know."
I was still crying, my mind screaming in pain, when a sudden, violent sound broke the silence of my apartment.
A heavy, wood-splintering crash came from the front hallway.
I flinched hard, slamming my laptop shut. I ripped the black flash drive out of the port and held it tightly in my fist.
"Who is out there?" I shrieked, scrambling off the couch. "Stay back! I-I have a gun!"
I lied, my voice trembling so much it was entirely unconvincing.
Another massive, loud blow hit the front door. The expensive wood split completely, cracking right down the center. Through the broken panel, a large hand in a black glove punched through the wood. It fumbled around frantically, trying to find the lock from the inside.
"Open the fucking door!" a loud, angry voice yelled from the hallway. "Open it now, bitch! I know you are in there!"
"Oh god, please no! Help! Somebody help me!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.
I backed away toward the large balcony windows. I was totally trapped. The penthouse was on the top floor. There was nowhere left to run.
"Give us the drive or you are dead!" the voice shouted, the wood splitting more.
"Go away! The police are coming!" I screamed back, tears streaming down my face. "Leave me alone!"
Suddenly, a second, massive crash happened right behind me.
The heavy glass of the balcony window shattered into a million tiny pieces. It rained down onto the floor like a deadly silver waterfall.
I spun around, let out a sharp scream, and fell backward onto the hard floor. A tall, dark silhouette dropped down from the stone railing straight into my living room. He stepped effortlessly through the piles of broken glass.
"Miss Lindstrom, get behind me. Now," a calm, deep voice commanded.
I scrambled backward on my hands and knees, my nails scratching the wood. I wanted to keep my body as far away from this stranger as possible. I held the tiny black flash drive against my chest like a shield, my eyes wide with pure terror.
"Who the fuck are you?" I screamed, my voice cracking. "Don't touch me! Get the hell away from me!"
"I said get behind me," the man repeated. His voice was cold as ice.
The massive figure did not move toward me. Instead, he stood up to his full height. He placed his powerful body right between me and the splintering front door. In the dim light of the room, I could not see his face perfectly, but I could see the intense glimmer of two piercing, ice-blue eyes staring out into the dark. A thin, white scar went from behind his right ear all the way down to his collarbone, standing out sharply against his dark clothes.
"Are you going to help me or kill me?" I choked out, my chest heaving as I looked at him.
"If I wanted you dead, you would be dead already," he said softly, his eyes never leaving the front door. "Now shut up and stay down."
He moved with a terrifying, predator-like precision, completely blocking the danger, waiting for the front door to burst open.
