Chapter 7: Beneath the Surface
The rain fell hard that night, tapping against the windows like a warning.
Elara stood on the balcony of the penthouse, Killian's name echoing in her mind alongside Damon Thorne's. The past wasn't just knocking—it had barged in and taken a seat.
She heard the soft sound of footsteps behind her.
"You should come in," Killian said. "You'll get sick."
She didn't turn. "Was I always like this? Angry. Restless. Broken?"
He paused. "You were always fire. Even when you were afraid, you didn't let it show. You fought harder."
Elara finally faced him. "Then tell me the rest. Don't hide anymore."
Killian leaned against the railing. "I met you at a charity gala last year. You were with your father—James Monroe. He was the real reason Damon hated you."
"My father?" Her heart stumbled. "I don't even remember him."
"He was a government prosecutor. He was close to exposing Damon's operation—trafficking, embezzlement, all of it. You were the loose end he couldn't afford."
Elara swallowed hard. "So Damon came after me."
"And your father," Killian added. "James died three weeks before your accident."
The news hit like a punch to the chest.
Dead.
She didn't even remember saying goodbye.
Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them back. "And the evidence? The one I said I had?"
Killian nodded. "You sent it to yourself. An encrypted file. We still haven't found the password."
Elara looked at him. "Then we find it. And we finish what I started."
Killian gave a slow nod. "That's what I've been waiting for."
For the first time since the contract began, they weren't just strangers. They were allies. Bound by more than paper or past wounds.
They were bound by
danger.
And the storm was far from over.