Chapter 5 The Safe House

"Run!" ALucien grabbed my arm and pulled me across the parking garage before I could even process what he'd just said.

The only file with my real name had been stolen. Whoever was behind this wasn't just after the Blackwood fortune, they were after me.

Gunshots cracked through the garage. Concrete exploded beside us. I screamed. Lucien shoved me behind a parked SUV. "Stay down!"

Another shot shattered the driver's side window. Glass rained onto the floor. Hospital security poured into the garage from the opposite entrance, shouting orders, but the attackers were already disappearing into the maze of parked vehicles. "They're getting away!" one guard yelled.

Lucien ignored him. His attention stayed on me. "Are you hurt?" I shook my head, unable to speak. My heartbeat thundered in my ears. Everything had changed in less than five minutes; my mother had been kidnapped, someone knew my past, someone had stolen my records. Now someone wanted me dead.

Police sirens echoed outside. Within minutes, officers flooded the garage. Questions came from every direction. "What happened?" "Did you see the shooters?" "How many were there?" I answered none of them.

Neither did Lucien. He leaned toward the detective in charge and spoke so quietly I barely heard him. "Keep this off the news."

The detective frowned. "That's impossible." "It isn't." "My family still owns half this city's newspapers." The detective sighed. "I'll do what I can."

Twenty minutes later, we slipped out through a staff exit while reporters crowded the hospital's front entrance. A black armored SUV waited in the alley. Two men in dark suits stood beside it. Neither smiled. One opened the rear door. "Mr. Blackwood."

Lucien nodded. "We're leaving." I stopped. "Leaving where?" "Somewhere no one can find you." "I'm not hiding." "You don't get to decide that anymore."

Anger flared inside me. "My mother is still missing!" "And if they capture you too, she'll be the least of your problems."

His words hit harder than I wanted to admit. Reluctantly, I climbed into the SUV. The doors locked automatically. The vehicle pulled away. Neither of us spoke for almost fifteen minutes.

Rain began falling against the windows. The city lights blurred into streaks. Finally, I broke the silence. "What did you mean by my real name?"

Lucien stared out the window. "I meant exactly what I said." "My birth certificate says Evelyn Sinclair." "It says that now." "What is that supposed to mean?" He hesitated.

"My father kept private files." "So?" "So some people in those files had different identities." I frowned. "Witness protection?" "I don't know." "Adoptions?" "I don't know." "You seem to say that a lot." He looked at me. "Because it's the truth." For the first time since we'd met, I believed him. He wasn't hiding answers, he was missing them too.

The SUV turned through a pair of iron gates. Ahead stood a massive estate hidden behind tall trees. "This is Blackwood Manor?" "No." "It was abandoned years ago." The driver continued past it.

Another mile deeper into the woods, a smaller stone house appeared. No signs, no lights, just silence.

"The safe house," Lucien said. Only four people know this place exists." I almost laughed. "You've said that after every place we've been today." His expression didn't change. "I know."

Inside, the house looked ordinary; a fireplace, a kitchen, three bedrooms. Nothing suggested it belonged to one of the richest families in the country. One of the bodyguards locked every door. Another checked every window.

Lucien placed the stolen photograph and my altered birth certificate on the dining table. We stood over them. "There has to be something we're missing."

I picked up the old picture again. Damien, my mother, the unknown woman. They all looked happy. Not like business partners, like friends, almost like family. Then something caught my eye.

I leaned closer. "What?" I pointed to the corner of the photograph. "There." Lucien narrowed his eyes. A little girl stood in the background. She couldn't have been more than four years old. Most of her face was hidden behind a tree. Only part of her profile was visible. She wore a tiny silver bracelet. My breathing caught. I lifted my own wrist. The bracelet I'd worn since childhood, the same bracelet, the exact same design.

My mother had always told me she'd bought it at a street market. That had been a lie. "I was there."

Lucien looked at me. "What?" "I was there when this picture was taken." The room fell silent. One of the bodyguards stepped closer.

"Sir." Lucien didn't look away from me. "What is it?" The guard held up a small black device. "I found this underneath the dining table."

My stomach dropped. "What is that?" He carefully placed it on the table. It was no bigger than a coin.

Lucien's face darkened. "A listening device." "What?" "They knew we'd come here." "That's impossible." "It should be."

The second bodyguard rushed into the room. "Sir!" "What now?" "We've searched the house." "And?" "There are three more." Listening devices, already installed before we arrived.

Lucien grabbed his phone. No signal, he checked again, still nothing. "They're jamming us." The lights flickered once, twice. Then the entire house went dark.

Outside, headlights appeared through the rain. One vehicle, then another, then a third.

Black SUVs rolled slowly through the front gate. Their engines stopped, doors opened, shapes stepped out into the storm. Each wore black tactical gear. Each carried rifles.

My pulse raced. "Police?" I whispered. Lucien looked through the window. "No." "How do you know?" He pointed toward the lead vehicle.

A silver wolf emblem gleamed on the hood. The color drained from his face. "I know that symbol." "What is it?" He didn't answer immediately.

Instead, he reached beneath the dining table and pressed a hidden button. A section of the bookshelf slid open, revealing a narrow staircase leading underground.

"Move," he ordered. The bodyguards drew their weapons. I couldn't take my eyes off the window. The leader of the armed group stepped into the porch light.

He removed his hood. Even from across the yard, I could see his face clearly. It was the same man from the hospital surveillance footage. The man my mother had smiled at, the man who looked exactly like Damien Blackwood.

He lifted his eyes toward the house. Then, slowly... He smiled. A heartbeat later, the front door exploded inward.