Zariah didn't sleep that night not out of dear but out of clarity. The threat on her phone wasn't random. Someone was watching her, following her and whoever they were, they knew something about the journal, about the drive and maybe about Dorian.
She sat on the edge of her bed in her high rise apartment, the journal open on her lap, each word from her mother now heavy with meaning. The more she read, the more she realized that wasn't just a list of names or numbers. It was a roadstamp, a slow unraveling of a web her mother had been trapped in for years.
At heart of it was Cyrus Holt, a man untouchable by the law but not, maybe, by her.
She turned to the final pages.
A phase kept repeating:
"Trust D.V only when the sky turns red."
What did that mean? Was it a metaphor? Or a code?
Zariah's thoughts spiraled until her phone buzzed again. Unknown number.
"Come alone tonight. 11:00 p.m. Pier 17. You want answers, this is where they begin."
She stared at the message, then at 9:57 p.m.
She took the flash drive, slid it into her inner coat pocket and tucked the journal under a loose floorboard she knew even a burglar wouldn't think to check.
Tonight, she wouldn't be scared.
Tonight, she'd be the one watching.
The docks at Pier 17 were quiet. Dog clung low over the water like breath on glass. Shipping crates cast long shadows and the occasional clank of chains echoed in the air like a warning.
Zariah's heels clicked softly on the pavement as she approached the coordinates. She wore a gray hoodie under a trench coatz bleeding in. Hidden under dear sleeve, her fingerss curled around a small pepper spray she'd never had to use until now.
A figure stepped out from behind a container.
Tall, hooded man.
"You came," he said. His voice was muffled but something about the way he stood... Familiar.
"Who are you?" She asked.
"Someone who used to work for your mother."
She narrowed her eyes. "Prove it."
He pulled something from his jacket, a broken chain with a locket. Her mother's locket. The one she'd worn for years and hadn't been buried with.
"Why do you have that?"
"Because she gave it to me, told me to protect it... and you."
Zariah took a step back. "If you knew her, why didn't you come forward when she died?"
"Because the people watching you are the same ones who silenild her."
He stepped forward and lowered his hood.
Zariah blinked. "You--you're..."
He looked older now, his face more lined, but she knew her smile. It was Jordan Ash, her mother's old assistant. A man who'd disappeared without a trace two weeks before her mother's accident.
" You were supposed to be dead "
"Only on paper "
He handed her a folded slip of paper.
"Your mother was onto something massive. Holt wasn't acting alone, he has partners, some inside law enforcement, some in your firm.
"My firm?" Her blood chilled.
"Vanguard Capital?"
He nodded. "And Dorian knows. He's been trying to protect you but his hands are tied."
"I need more than warnings."
"You will get them but not here, it's too dangerous."
She looked down at the note he gave her . It was a name and address.
S. Wakefield
49 Mercer Street. Third floor.
"Who's that?"
"A journalist. The only one your mother trusted. She's been in hiding since the night Celeste died."
Zariah clenched the paper. "If I go to her, what happens next?"
Jordan's voice dropped. "Then everything you forgot to love will come back to haunt you."
A loud clang broke the silence.
They both turned. Two figures were watching from the shadows, moving closer.
Jordan swore. "Go. Now!"
Zariah ran, her coat billowing behind her as footsteps echoed behind her. Her heart pounded. She didn't stop until she was back in the glow of the city streets.
When she finally caught her breath, she looked down at her hand.
The paper was gone.