The rain had been falling for hours, drumming a relentless rhythm against the black glass of the National Gallery. Elena Vega adjusted the collar of her trench coat and stepped into the warmth of the museum, the scent of old paint and polished wood hitting her like a memory she couldn't place.
The gallery was almost empty, the late-night crowd thinning after the gala opening of the exhibit Masters of Influence. The centerpiece of the collection, a centuries-old painting of a crowd watching a shadowed figure, drew her gaze immediately. Something about the way the light hit the figure's eyes made her stomach tighten. She crouched slightly, scanning the edges of the canvas, and caught the faintest glint, a series of tiny, almost imperceptible markings along the frame.
Her curiosity became an itch she couldn't ignore. Elena had spent her life following whispers in the dark, and this felt like one of those moments. She squinted, taking a mental note of the strange arrangement of letters and symbols.
A sudden commotion drew her attention. A man had collapsed near the exhibit, his body convulsing unnaturally. Security rushed in, their radios crackling with panic. Elena's instincts kicked in, pushing her forward despite the uniformed officers waving her back.
The crowd parted as she reached the man. His eyes opened for a fraction of a second, glazed and terrified, before closing forever. She noticed a small, folded piece of paper clutched in his hand. Carefully, she pried it free: a sequence of numbers and letters, cryptic and meaningless at first glance but Elena knew better.
Something was moving in the shadows of this city, and it wasn't random.
Detective Marco D'Angelo appeared beside her, his expression a mixture of skepticism and annoyance. "Journalist," he said curtly, glancing at the body. "This isn't your scene. Step back."
"I think it's exactly my scene," Elena replied, eyes darting back to the painting. "That painting… it's connected. Look at the markings."
Marco frowned. "Markings?"
"Codes," she said softly, tracing the edges of the frame in her mind. "Someone wanted them to be found. Someone is orchestrating this."
He shook his head, but the briefest flicker of unease crossed his face. Even he could sense that something was lurking just beyond reach, a shadow in the corners of London, whispering promises of secrets that could change everything.
Elena tucked the paper into her pocket. Outside, the rain continued to fall, relentless and unyielding, as if echoing the truth she had just glimpsed: the world was darker than most dared to see, and she was about to step all the way inside.