Chapter 4: The Secret Inside Locker 614
“I didn't mean to!””
The words kept echoing inside my skull long after the photograph disappeared from Adrian's phone.
I stood in the middle of his apartment, staring at a woman I couldn't remember and a little girl who looked exactly like me. My hands were shaking so badly that the sleeves of Adrian's coat slipped over my fingers.
Margaret approached slowly.
“Isabella, sweetheart, look at me.””
“Don't call me that.””
She stopped.
I regretted the words immediately, but I couldn't take them back.
“My name is Wren,” I whispered.
“I've been Wren for ten years. I don't know who that girl is. I don't know what happened in that house.””
Margaret's eyes filled with tears.
“You were six years old. Whatever happened, you were a child.””
“What if I hurt her?””
“You didn't.””
“How can you know that?””
She opened her mouth, then closed it again.
That hesitation frightened me more than the photograph.
Adrian stepped between us.
“Enough. Nobody is going to force her to remember anything.””
He took his phone from the table and enlarged the image.
“Daniel, trace the message.””
His security chief answered through the speaker.
“Already tried. It came through an encrypted relay. Whoever sent it knows our systems.””
“Can they see this apartment?””
“We're checking.””
“Check faster.””
Adrian ended the call and looked at me.
“We're leaving.””
“Where?””
“Penn Station.””
Margaret shook her head.
“You can't take her there. If someone knows about the locker, they'll be waiting.””
“Which is why we're not going to walk in through the front entrance.””
I stared at him.
“You're talking about my childhood like it's a military operation.””
“In my world, information gets people killed.””
“And what world is that, exactly? The world where men shoot you in alleys and your friends hide bodies?””
Adrian's jaw tightened.
“Something like that.””
“Then why should I trust you?””
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he removed a small black pistol from beneath his coat and placed it on the table, well away from me.
“Because if I wanted to use you, I wouldn't be telling you the truth about how dangerous this is.””
“That isn't an answer.””
“No,” he admitted.
“It isn't.””
He leaned forward, resting his hands on the table.
“But here's the part I can promise. Nobody will take you anywhere against your will. If you want to turn around at the station, I'll bring you back. If you want to walk away afterward, I'll let you.””
I studied his face.
“And if Vincent comes for me?””
Adrian's expression hardened.
“Then he'll have to come through me.””
I hated how much I wanted to believe him.
Ten years of sleeping beneath broken awnings had taught me that promises were cheap. Men could sound gentle while planning terrible things. Women could smile while leading you toward a locked door.
But I also knew what it felt like to spend your whole life running from a shadow.
I couldn't keep doing it.
“Fine,” I said.
“Let's find the locker.””
Penn Station was packed with commuters when we arrived.
People hurried beneath the bright signs, dragging suitcases and balancing coffee cups. Announcements echoed overhead. A child cried beside a ticket machine while his father argued with an employee about a delayed train.
Nobody looked twice at me.
For once, I was grateful.
Adrian had changed into a charcoal jacket, and Daniel wore an ordinary gray sweater. Two other men followed several yards behind us, pretending to study their phones.
I walked beside Adrian with Margaret's key clenched in my fist.
“Locker 614,” I murmured.
“What if there's nothing inside?””
“Then we'll find another lead.””
“What if there's something terrible?””
“Then we'll deal with it.””
“You make everything sound simple.””
“It's a habit.””
“An annoying one.””
He glanced at me.
“You've been insulting me since the night we met.””
“You've been making it easy.””
For the first time that morning, Adrian laughed.
The sound surprised me.
It made him seem younger, almost ordinary, and for one fleeting moment I could imagine him as the man he might have been if his life hadn't been built around violence.
Then Daniel touched his earpiece.
“Boss.””
Adrian stopped walking.
“What?””
“Someone just entered the station through the west entrance. Male, black cap, dark jacket. He's been following us since the garage.””
Adrian's expression changed.
“Description?””
“Six feet. Heavy build. Scar on his left cheek.””
Margaret went pale.
I noticed.
“Do you know him?”” I whispered.
She shook her head too quickly.
“No.””
Adrian caught the movement.
“Margaret?””
“I said I don't know him.””
Her voice cracked.
Before Adrian could question her, a man bumped into me from behind.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
Something cold pressed against my ribs.
“Keep walking,” he whispered.
“Don't look at my face.””
My blood froze.
It was the same warning Adrian had given me in the alley, but this voice was different. Older. Rougher.
“Tell Kane to stop asking about the fire,” the man continued.
“Or next time, the body they find will be yours.””
I tried to turn.
He dug the object harder into my side.
“Don't.””
Adrian was three steps ahead.
I caught his eye.
He immediately knew something was wrong.
“Wren?””
The man behind me spoke into my ear.
“Say one word, and I'll put a bullet through you.””
I swallowed.
Then I deliberately dropped Margaret's key.
It struck the floor with a sharp metallic clink.
Adrian's gaze snapped downward.
He saw the key.
He saw my hand trembling.
And he saw the man standing too close behind me.
Everything happened at once.
Adrian spun around and drove his shoulder into the stranger, knocking him away from me. Daniel grabbed the man's wrist before he could raise his weapon.
Commuters screamed and scattered.
The stranger twisted free, struck Daniel across the jaw, and sprinted toward the platform entrance.
Adrian chased him.
“Stay here!”” he shouted at me.
Naturally, I didn't.
I ran after them.
The stranger vaulted a low barrier and pushed through a crowd waiting beside the platform. Adrian was gaining on him, but the man suddenly turned and threw a metal object across the floor.
It exploded in a burst of white light and smoke.
People screamed.
I stumbled, coughing, my eyes burning.
Through the haze, I heard a sharp crash.
Then Adrian shouted my name.
I followed his voice.
He was crouched beside Daniel, who had fallen against a pillar. Blood ran from a cut above Daniel's eyebrow.
The stranger was gone.
Adrian grabbed my shoulders.
“Are you hurt?””
“No.””
“Did he touch you?””
“He threatened me.””
Adrian's face went frighteningly still.
“What did he say?””
I told him.
When I repeated the words about the fire, Margaret made a small, broken sound.
Adrian turned toward her.
“You know who he is.””
She stared at the floor.
“Margaret.””
“I saw him once,” she whispered.
“The night of the fire.””
Adrian's eyes narrowed.
“Who is he?””
“I don't know his name. Your father called him a courier. He brought messages to the estate.””
“Why didn't you tell us?””
“Because I thought he was dead.””
Daniel pushed himself upright, wiping blood from his face.
“Boss, we need to move. Station security is coming.””
Adrian picked up the key.
Then he looked at me.
“Do you still want to open the locker?””
I could barely breathe.
“Yes.””
“Even if this is exactly what they want?””
I looked toward the platform where the stranger had vanished.
“Especially if it is.””
The storage lockers were tucked away in a quieter section of the station, behind a row of vending machines and a narrow corridor marked for authorized personnel.
Daniel remained at the entrance while Adrian and I approached the metal door.
Margaret stayed behind with the other security men.
My hands shook as I inserted the key into locker 614.
For a moment, it wouldn't turn.
Then the mechanism clicked.
The door swung open.
Inside sat a small wooden box, a sealed envelope, and a child's faded blue ribbon.
I stopped breathing.
The ribbon was familiar.
I could feel it between my fingers, though I couldn't remember when I'd last touched it.
I picked it up.
A memory surfaced.
A woman kneeling in front of me, tying the ribbon around my hair.
There. Now you're my little moonbeam.
I stumbled backward.
Adrian caught my elbow.
“Wren?””
“My mother called me that.””
He looked at the ribbon.
“Moonbeam?””
I nodded, tears blurring my vision.
“Why can't I remember her face?””
“Trauma can affect memory.””
“What if I don't want to remember?””
“Then we stop.””
I stared at the box.
“No. I need to know.””
Adrian lifted the envelope.
It was addressed in elegant handwriting.
*For my daughter, Isabella. If she ever comes home.*
My knees nearly gave way.
He handed it to me.
The paper trembled as I opened it.
Inside was a single sheet.
My dearest Isabella,
If you're reading this, then someone has finally brought you home. I pray that I am alive to hold you again. If I'm not, you must know that your father and I never abandoned you.
The fire was not an accident.
Someone inside our home betrayed us. Someone we trusted.
Do not trust the man who tells you he saved you.
Find the ledger. It contains the names of everyone who was paid to destroy our family.
And, my darling, whatever they tell you about the night I died, remember this: you were trying to save me.
The letter slipped from my fingers.
I caught it before it reached the floor.
“You were trying to save me.””
The words struck something buried deep inside my mind.
Fire roared through a hallway.
My mother's white dress was stained with blood.
A man stood at the top of the stairs, holding a gun.
And I was screaming.
Mommy, don't go!
I doubled over.
Adrian caught me before I fell.
“Wren! Look at me!””
I clutched his jacket, sobbing so hard I couldn't speak.
For ten years, I'd believed I had no past.
Now I had a name, a family, and a memory that made me wonder whether my own hands had started the fire that destroyed everything.
When I could finally breathe again, Adrian opened the wooden box.
Inside lay an old photograph, a gold crescent necklace, and a black leather ledger.
He picked up the photograph.
It showed Richard and Eleanor Whitmore standing outside their mansion.
Between them was a young Adrian Kane.
He looked barely twenty, with a crooked smile and an arm slung casually around Richard's shoulder.
I stared at him.
“You knew my family better than you told me.””
Adrian's expression darkened.
“Yes.””
“Why?””
“Because there are things about that night I never told anyone.””
He reached into the box and lifted the ledger.
Before he could open it, his phone vibrated.
An incoming message appeared on the screen.
A photograph of Margaret.
She was standing outside the station beside a black car.
Someone had circled her face.
Beneath the image were seven words.
*The nanny knows who burned the house.*
Adrian's face drained of color.
Then another message arrived.
*Ask her what she did with the boy.*
I stared at the words.
“What boy?””
May you like
Adrian slowly looked up.
And for the first time since I'd met him, he seemed genuinely afraid of the answer.
