Chapter 3 - The Name She Buried
Elena killed the bathroom light.
Lucian reached for the gun tucked beneath his torn jacket.
She caught his hand.
“No.”
“They are coming in.”
“You can barely stand.”
“I can still shoot.”
“That is not comforting.”
The footsteps moved across the fire escape outside the kitchen window. Slow. Certain.
A shadow crossed the blinds.
Elena’s apartment had only one exit through the front door, one narrow kitchen window, and a fire escape that led down the back of the building. The same escape the men were now using.
Lucian pushed himself off the bathroom counter.
His knees buckled.
Elena caught him before he hit the floor.
“You are impossible,” she whispered.
“So I’ve been told.”
She pulled him toward the bedroom instead.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“My landlord’s old storage room.”
“You have a storage room?”
“I have a lot of things I don’t tell strangers.”
They crossed the apartment as the kitchen window creaked open.
Elena dragged a narrow dresser away from the wall, revealing a faded wooden panel beneath it. She pried at the corner with a butter knife until the panel lifted.
Behind it was a crawlspace.
Lucian stared.
“You have a hidden crawlspace?”
“My apartment used to be part of a boarding house. The walls connect.”
“You live like someone expecting war.”
Elena met his eyes.
“I lived with someone who taught me how quickly a home can become dangerous.”
Another voice came from the kitchen.
“Search the bedroom.”
Lucian looked toward the sound.
“Elena, go.”
“No.”
“They are here for me.”
“And if they find you here, they will hurt me too.”
“That is why you need to leave.”
She shook her head.
“You don’t understand something about abusive men,” she whispered. “They don’t stop because you leave. They stop when they lose control.”
Lucian studied her face.
For the first time, his expression shifted from guarded attention to something like understanding.
“Elena Marsh,” he said softly.
She froze.
The name felt like a hand closing around her throat.
“What did you call me?”
Lucian’s face tightened.
“I heard one of those men downstairs say it.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I heard them say Garrett Hale was looking for you.”
The apartment seemed to tilt.
Garrett.
Her ex-fiancé.
The detective who had turned every report she filed against him into proof that she was “emotionally unstable.” The man who had smiled at judges, charmed neighbors, and bruised her where no one could see.
“He found me,” she whispered.
Lucian’s jaw hardened. “Who is Garrett Hale?”
“No one.”
“That is not true.”
“He is someone I left.”
“Did he hurt you?”
Elena looked away.
The sound of drawers opening in the kitchen made her flinch.
Lucian’s voice became lower. Controlled.
“Did he hurt you?”
“Yes,” she said.
The word barely came out.
Lucian did not ask for details.
He only nodded once.
Then he handed her his gun.
Elena stared at it.
“I don’t want that.”
“You may need it.”
“I’ve never fired a gun.”
“Then point it only if you must. Safety is here.” He showed her with quick, practiced movements. “Do not put your finger on the trigger unless you intend to use it.”
The men were closer now.
A door slammed.
They had entered the bedroom.
Lucian moved toward the crawlspace.
“Elena, listen to me. If they find us, you go through the wall. There is an exit?”
“Mrs. Alvarez’s closet.”
“Good. You go there, you lock the door, and you call the police.”
“I told you. The police—”
“Not North River police,” he said. “Lakehurst police. Federal agents. Anyone who is not Garrett Hale.”
“He has connections.”
“So do I.”
She gave a brittle laugh. “That is supposed to make me feel better?”
“No. It is supposed to keep you alive.”
The bedroom door opened.
A flashlight beam swept across the room.
Elena pushed Lucian into the crawlspace.
Then she climbed in after him and pulled the panel shut.
They lay pressed together in darkness, surrounded by dust and old pipes. Lucian’s breath was hot against her neck. His blood soaked through his shirt and onto her sleeve.
Outside, footsteps crossed the bedroom floor.
“Check under the bed.”
Elena’s heart stopped.
A hand shoved beneath the quilt.
It searched through the boxes.
The suitcase.
The empty space where Lucian had been.
“He was here,” the man said.
“Find him.”
The flashlight beam paused inches from the hidden panel.
Elena held her breath.
Lucian’s hand found hers in the darkness.
Not possessive.
Not demanding.
Steady.
A sudden crash came from the hallway.
Mrs. Alvarez’s voice thundered through the apartment.
“You break one more thing, and I’ll make sure the police find out exactly where you boys are!”
The intruders cursed.
Then a siren sounded in the distance.
One of them whispered, “We’re out.”
The footsteps retreated.
The kitchen window slammed shut.
A minute passed.
Then two.
Then five.
Elena did not move until Lucian’s fingers loosened around hers.
“Lucian?”
He had passed out again.
And this time, when she touched his forehead, she knew the fever was getting worse.
She crawled out of the wall, helped him into the bathroom, and began preparing an IV from the emergency supplies she kept hidden.
“You really do have a small hospital in here,” Lucian murmured weakly.
“I told you not to rely on help.”
“You weren’t joking.”
“No.”
His eyes opened slightly.
“You have been alone too long.”
The words landed harder than Elena expected.
She focused on inserting the IV.
“So have you.”
Lucian gave the faintest smile.
Then his phone began vibrating inside his jacket.
Elena pulled it free.
The screen showed an encrypted message from someone named Marco.
BOSS, DO NOT GO HOME. TRAITOR INSIDE THE FAMILY. HALE IS WORKING WITH VITTORIO.
Elena read it twice.
Then looked at Lucian.
“Who is Vittorio?”
Lucian’s face went completely still.
“My uncle.”
“And Garrett Hale is working with him?”
Lucian nodded.
Elena’s old life and Lucian’s dangerous world had just collided.
May you like
And neither of them had a safe place left to run.
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