Chapter Eight: The Vault
I'd barely slept. I sat on the edge of the motel bed at dawn, the brass key and envelope lying next to the USB drive. My mother's final secret, sealed away for years. Maybe this would be the piece that finally destroyed them.
Emily watched me from across the room, arms folded, eyes fierce but tired. "We should go before they do," she said.
Sophia hovered in the doorway. She looked like she hadn't slept either — her eyes puffy, her hair pulled back in a shaky ponytail. "Nina, I know you don't trust me right now. But let me come. Let me prove I'm not your enemy."
I stared at her, my heart torn. This was the girl who'd held my hair when I threw up after my mother's funeral. The girl who'd whispered promises to stay by my side no matter what. And now — I didn't know who she was anymore.
"Give me your phone," I said, my voice cold. Sophia hesitated, then handed it over. I tossed it into the bedside drawer. "One wrong move, Sophia, and you're done."
She nodded, tears brimming but not falling. Emily shot her a glare. I grabbed the key, the USB, and my mother's old envelope, then zipped it all into my backpack. "Let's go."
Bellcrest Bank sat downtown like an old stone mausoleum — grand marble pillars, iron-barred windows, and a single security guard who looked like he hadn't run in years. But across the street, parked under a dripping tree, was a sleek black car. Mirabel's men.
Emily nudged me as we stepped onto the sidewalk. "We don't have much time."
Inside, the bank was nearly empty — pale marble floors, hushed voices. Emily approached the security guard and started babbling about needing to reset a safe deposit box for her 'elderly aunt.' He looked confused enough to follow her down the hall.
Sophia and I slipped past, our footsteps echoing in the empty corridor. I pulled out the envelope — the paper was soft from years hidden in that jewelry box. My mother's handwriting danced across the top: For Nina. If they find this, trust no one.
My stomach twisted. I handed it to the banker at the private vault desk, my fingers damp against the glass. "I'm here to access my mother's box. I have her ID."
The clerk squinted at the ID and my face, then at Sophia. "Family?"
"My cousin," I said quickly. "She's with me for support."
He nodded and buzzed us through. The door to the private vault swung open with a heavy clunk that made my knees feel weak.
The room was cold, lit by flickering fluorescent lights. The walls were lined with numbered metal drawers, each one holding a secret someone thought would never see daylight. My hand shook as I slipped the key into the lock.
A soft click. The drawer slid open, metal scraping on metal.
Inside sat a small leather-bound journal, its corners frayed from years of handling. Next to it lay an old phone SIM card, wrapped tightly in black electrical tape. In my mother's handwriting on a yellowed slip of paper was one word: Insurance.
Sophia leaned over my shoulder. "Is that…?"
I flipped open the journal. Page after page of neat, looping letters — coded notes about offshore accounts, hidden bribes, and the poisons that drained the life from my mother bit by bit. Bank account numbers, initials, times, dates — secrets my father and Mirabel would kill to keep buried.
My eyes burned. I could almost see her sitting at her vanity at night, writing all of this while the poison slowly worked through her blood.
"Let's go," I whispered. I shoved the journal and SIM into my bag.
But a voice echoed down the hallway, cold and unmistakable. My father. And Mirabel.
Sophia's eyes widened. "They're here."
We pressed ourselves flat against the wall of the vault chamber. Footsteps. Angry voices. The bank manager's anxious stammer. I heard my father snarl: "I know they're here. Find them."
Emily suddenly appeared behind us, her eyes wild. "They're blocking the front. Back exit — now."
But when we turned, Sophia was gone. The vault door creaked. I spun just in time to see her on the other side, hand on the giant wheel, tears streaming down her face.
"Sophia!" I ran to the door. "What are you doing?"
She looked at me through the thick glass. "I'm so sorry, Nina. You're going to ruin everything. I can't let you."
And then the wheel spun, and the massive door slammed shut, locking me and Emily in the cold steel tomb.
I banged on the door until my fists ached. "Sophia! Open the door! Sophia!"
Nothing but the muffled click of her footsteps fading away.
Emily grabbed my shoulders. "Nina, focus. We have to get out of here. There's got to be a maintenance hatch."
We scrambled to the back wall, pushing aside stacked boxes of blank forms. There — behind a loose panel — was a narrow, dust-choked crawl space. Emily pried it open with a metal file. I shoved my bag through, then crawled in after it, the journal and SIM pressed to my chest.
We crawled through the darkness, the metal walls closing in on every side. Somewhere above us, voices shouted orders, boots pounded the marble floor. My mother's last words looped through my head: Trust no one. But don't stand alone.
We tumbled out into a back alley behind the bank. The air smelled like rotting garbage and rain. I staggered to my feet just as the black car screeched around the corner, headlights flaring like angry eyes.
Emily grabbed my hand. "We have to go. Now."
I turned to her, my pulse pounding. "Why are you really here, Emily? Who hired you to follow my mother?"
Her face tightened. "I told you — I'm not sure. Someone paid me to find proof, then they vanished. I thought I could protect you. I never thought it'd come to this."
The black car lurched forward, tires spitting water onto the broken asphalt.
I clutched the journal and the SIM so tightly my knuckles ached. My mother's voice echoed in my mind — her final weapon against the monsters who killed her.
This time, I wasn't running. I was going to burn them all down.