The low hum of the drone vibrated through the safe house, a sinister pulse that jolted Sophia from her restless perch by the window. The gun still felt heavy in her memory as she glanced at Alexander, who stirred from his sleep, the weapon now back in his grip. The clock on the wall read 2:13 AM, the fire reduced to glowing embers. He was on his feet in an instant, motioning for silence as he checked the security feed on a tablet. The screen showed a small, black drone hovering near the property's edge, its red light blinking like a predator's eye.
"Langston's tech," he whispered, his voice taut. "They're tracking us." He grabbed a remote, activating a jamming signal. The drone's hum faltered, then dropped into the trees with a soft crash. But the reprieve was short-lived—headlights pierced the darkness, two SUVs rolling up the gravel drive.
"Get to the panic room," Alexander ordered, pushing her toward a hidden panel behind a bookshelf. She stumbled inside, the space cramped with monitors and supplies, as he sealed the door. Through the feed, she watched him arm himself, moving with the precision of a soldier. The SUVs disgorged masked figures, their movements coordinated. Victoria emerged last, her torn dress replaced with tactical gear, a smirk playing on her lips.
Sophia's mind raced to the text—"You're blood. Use it." Was Victoria family too, or just a manipulator? The monitors flickered as gunfire erupted outside, Alexander taking cover behind a stone pillar. A bullet grazed his arm, and she gasped, her hand on the panic room's emergency release. But he signaled her to stay put, his eyes fierce even through the screen.
Inside, she rifled through a drawer, finding a backup comms device. She tuned it, catching fragments of Victoria's voice. "...end this tonight. Father wants him broken." Marcus's name surfaced too, his nervous tic audible in a shaky reply. Sophia's gut twisted—Marcus wasn't just a pawn; he was feeding them real-time intel.
The fight outside intensified. Alexander disarmed one intruder, using the man's radio to taunt Victoria. "You'll never win, Vic. Your father's empire will crumble." Her enraged scream crackled through, and the attack redoubled. Sophia's fingers hovered over the release—should she help? The family tie, if true, bound her to this fight.
A loud bang shook the house—the front door breached. Alexander retreated, luring them deeper. Sophia seized the moment, activating a secondary defense system—a burst of tear gas from hidden vents. The intruders coughed, retreating, and Alexander seized the opening, taking down two more. Victoria fled, vanishing into the trees.
When the chaos subsided, he opened the panic room, blood streaking his sleeve. "You saved me," he said, his voice rough. He pulled her into a hug, the adrenaline-fueled closeness reigniting their earlier passion. Their lips met, brief but intense, before he pulled back, wincing at his wound.
"Let me help," she insisted, guiding him to a chair. She cleaned and bandaged the graze, her hands steady despite the tremor inside. "Victoria's working with Marcus. I heard it on the comms."
His eyes darkened. "I suspected Marcus, but Victoria... she's gone too far." He stood, pacing. "We need to hit back. Tomorrow, we'll raid Langston's office—find proof of the murders."
Sophia nodded, her mind on the journal. "And my connection to your family—Evelyn. That text said 'blood.' What if it's leverage?"
He paused, studying her. "If you're kin, it changes everything. But we confirm it first." He handed her a secure phone. "Call this number—my private investigator. Ask about Evelyn's lineage."
She dialed, the line clicking after two rings. A gruff voice answered. "Voss's line?"
"Yes. I need info on Evelyn Voss—her sister, her child. Urgently."
"Working on it. Check back in six hours." The call ended.
As dawn broke, they planned the raid, the safe house's silence a fragile shield. Sophia sketched the night's violence, her pencil trembling. Alexander watched, his gaze softening. "You're stronger than I thought."
"Survival does that," she replied, meeting his eyes. The attraction pulsed, but duty held them back.
A beep from the security system—motion detected. They tensed, but it was a deer again. Relief was short-lived as her phone buzzed: "Evelyn's child—Maria Reyes. Your mother. You're his cousin. Act now. -E." The confirmation hit like a tidal wave.